Well, Crap.

If you have an issue with reading about anything gross, then turn around now because this is pretty icky... but this just shows what a day with a toddler can be like when things get completely out of hand.  If poo doesn't bother you, then stick around because this made my husband and my sister hysterical.

Earlier, I had a really upset stomach so I had to spend some quality time on the toilet.  Those of us with small children know that there is no such thing as privacy and that pooping alone is a luxury.  So there's my kid, playing and not letting me use the bathroom in peace and he decided to play with the doorknob.  He managed to lock it and then get himself locked out of the bathroom.  He stood there pounding at the door for a short time and was upset that I couldn't get up to let him in.  "That will teach him to mess with the lock, right?"  NO.  Suddenly I heard the front door open.  My husband didn't deadbolt the door on his way out to work.  Alister has recently discovered the front yard but we aren't letting him go out unattended yet because there is no fence and he could very easily run into the street (he tried once when I had my back turned for a minute to water a plant).
Anyway, I hear him open the front door and suddenly I'm forced to run after him, pants around my ankles and all.  I was not yet ready to pull up my pants.  There he was, running toward the street (in the nude) while I chased after him...  not quite done with my business.

I dragged him back inside, took a long shower and then burned my clothes.

The end.

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

My 3 year old has been throwing the f-bomb around lately.  We recently went to our favorite coffee shop where he sat down at one of the tables, looked at a couple at another table and said, "What the f@&k?"  I cringed but didn't say anything.  I am trying not to react if he says any bad words because I know he doesn't understand what they mean and I'm afraid if I draw attention to it, he will continue saying them over and over just to get a reaction.  He also has learned to say "son of a bitch" when someone loses at a video game.  He learned that one from his dad but pretty sure the f-bomb was from me.  It's really hard to stop swearing.

Also, I learned that there are things I say that he can take completely out of context so it is downright weird when he says them.  I had to tell my husband to pick up my birth control pills before he went to work the other day.  When he returned with the pills, Alister grabbed the newspaper and put it in his "lunchbox" (it doubles as a purse depending on his mood) and said "ok, I've got my birth control and my newspaper.  I'm going to work now."

At least he was prepared for his day.

My Bush of Divorce

No, not my bush down there.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  We'll discuss that bush at a later date.  But today is NOT the day.  Today I will talk about my favorite bush that is in my yard; my hydrangea.  When we first moved into this house, I fell in love with the landscaping here.  We haven't had to do anything really because one of the last people who rented made it really nice, which is good because I am too lazy to do any of this myself and I can't afford a hot gardener.

Anyhow, back to my bush.  Or hydrangea.  When we moved in, it was at the beginning of fall and the flowers were turning dark purple and were ready to call it a day and fall off.  It was a pretty big bush and I could tell it needed some help but I have no previous landscaping experience.  I let it do its thing for awhile and researched the care and maintenance of hydrangeas and ran into a lot of conflicting information.  From what I could tell, I should have pruned it by the time I realized that it needed help but I was still hesitant to mess with it.  I turned to my friends and family who were knowledgeable.  My mom worked in a nursery for about 4 or 5 years.  My best friend had also worked in a nursery for about 4 years.  My grandparents had owned many properties and handled all manner of landscaping for the houses.  The lady we sublet to downstairs has a sister who is a plant expert somehow.  They all said one thing.  Prune the living hell out of that thing.  Prune it back to the very closest bud near the roots.  Ok, I just needed some pruners and I was golden.  I told my husband (Aaron).  He had also been reading about hydrangeas and told me not to mess with it.  Apparently an "expert" said not to mess with it until sometime during the spring.  I was not happy with this information.  My mom had taken a look at it when she came up at the very beginning of spring and said to hurry up and take care of it so I told Aaron that I needed some pruners.  He told me that it was too soon.  This went on for a few weeks.  Eventually I was seething.  I finally had enough.  Who were these experts???  What made them so damned smart about MY bush when they hadn't even seen it yet?  What part of the world were they from, even?  I told him that just because my family and friends didn't have their own websites with a bazillion hits, it doesn't mean they don't know a thing or two about how to deal with my unruly bush!!!  The war had begun.  It was going to be a battle to the death.  Hand to hand combat right here, on my lawn.  Then it happened... pruners were now available at Costco.  Magical Costco.  Aaron came home with pruners.  I couldn't hide my excitement!  Now I could take care of the bush!!!  Again, I was reminded that this was not the best idea.  Wait, he said.  I mentioned pruning a few more times and he became annoyed.

Aaron, "fine, if we end up with a dead bush in our yard, it's your fault".

Then one day he went to the grocery store.  It was now or never.  I took the little boy out back with me and he played while the hacking began.  It was glorious.  The branches were lanky and growing over the fence and into my neighbor's yard.  I imagined him showering me with gifts and thank-u's.

Neighbor, "oh, thank you Delilah...  If it weren't for you fixing this hydrangea, it would have taken over my yard!  Now I can see my shed!"

I could hear the loud opera music in my head as I pruned feverishly.  Then Aaron came home.  The look on his face was priceless.  He asked what happened to all the branches.  I told him that I pruned it the way I was told to.  He put on his "I'm pissed at Delilah" sourpuss face, turned around and walked into the house.  We did not speak of the hydrangea for weeks.

Then one day, my mom was visiting.  She walked around the backyard and when she came back in, she mentioned how beautiful it was.  Bear in mind that I couldn't really see it from any of the windows because of the angle it is situated.  I went to have a look and nearly cried.  It was gorgeous!!

Now it is summertime and I can finally see it peeking out from around the trees.  It has become the big, lush, beautiful bush that I had envisioned.

Aaron saw it and we wept and made love in front of it... Not really but wouldn't that have been a funny way to end the story?  He IS happy with my bush now.  It's no longer causing us marital discord.

The moral of the story here is to never ever let ANYBODY get you down about your bush.  Not even your husband.

Delilah's Amazing Bush

Hot Sauce Frenzy

You know that slogan for Frank's Red Hot...?  "I put that sh@t on everything!"  Well, my husband and I discovered the magic of applying it directly to pickles. This has been a great way to liven things up in the kitchen.  We have been feverishly consuming any pickled product we can find in our home with this magical sauce and have discovered that once the frenzy begins, it's unstoppable because our mouths become so spicy that we have no choice but to continue eating the spice, sauce-enhanced pickles.  We were finally able to pull ourselves away from the delicious inferno but have yet to recover from our runny noses and spicy, burning faces.  I highly recommend trying this.  Bonus points for wrapping American cheese around the pickle and then dipping it all in the sauce. 

Fear of Commitment. Also, Why Am I Here?

I have made several failed blogging attempts in the past and have yet to stay inspired to grab one by the balls and just go with it.  I can never decide what I can write about that really interests other people so this one is written out of shameless self-indulgence.  You may not find me interesting but I am SO AMUSING!!!  My therapist thinks so anyway.

I have a three year old son and I stay home with him... all the live-long day.  I hope that writing will become a good escape from Mom Time because my vodka habit is becoming rather expensive....  I'm just kidding, I prefer gin and tonics.

My weekly child-free outing is to my dance class.  I've been taking Rock and Roll Cabaret for nearly 2 years now.  I was really shy about it at first but now I think I'm on my way to being an 80's video vixen.  I just need a car so I can roll around on the hood.

I'm finding the progression into adulthood to be very difficult (I'm 35).  I have My Little Ponies.  I color in coloring books.  I watch cartoons more than I watch normal tv.  My best friends are the characters from the Super Mario games.  But... you know, I'm 35 so I have to find a way to enjoy all of those things and stay in my childhood but still be somewhat responsible and feed my kid, do my laundry and keep to my "wifely duties".

Are you still with me?  Good!  That was a little easier than I'd anticipated.  I probably should go lay down now though because all this thinking isn't good for me.