In real life

My eyelid (or possibly tear duct?) is infected and I look like Quasimoto. Don't sleep with your contacts in kids. Your eyes might get infected. Or you will be grounded from them and have to wear your ugly glasses to school. That's what my dad who happens to be an ophthalmologist used to say to my sister when we were little. (And by the way...it's true about him coaching Pop Warner football for all those years...and also comically, the leverage he tried to use to get me to move back home... "If you move to Medford I could coach your kids Pop Warner team...") It's true. I'm proof. Only I don't have to wear my glasses to school but Avery broke them so I do have to wear them around taped together. Maybe time for a new pair?

Do you think I could get real lenses put in these? I tried them on at Urban Outfitters the other day and found myself trying to pinpoint the exact moment when I turned old enough that I became slightly uncomfortable embracing new trends. Or worrying that other people will think I am silly. Like, "Oh look at the poor 30 year old lady thinking she is hip enough to pull that off". When did that happen to me? Was it the actual day I turned 30 or has it been a slow and steady thing. Or is it just that I am just old enough to be aware that people might think I am silly now-- whereas I used to just be blissfully unaware that people thought I was silly?

Either way, I think I'd just like to go back to that place where I didn't care.

I feel a midlife crisis coming on and it might involve hipster glasses. And a Ukulele.

This is happening. (Isn't that what the hip kids are saying?).



Also, speaking of eyeballs we've been up to ours in our garden produce. I am thrilled and also a little overwhelmed. 9 pepper and 8 tomato plants might have been excessive. It's supposed to snow (!!!) tonight and despite all that I've already preserved, I just can't stand letting all those still on the vines go to waste.

So I am going to try to drag my sorry face out in the chilly wet day and pick garden fresh produce and then pile it on my counter where it will likely sit for several days and make me feel bad about myself for not being more productive. But it will be arranged in rainbow order so there's that...


Since I know you're curious....

Yep it's my swollen eye complete with no makeup, taken at an unflattering angle and augmented by the fact that my jolly laughing darling babe was up almost all night screaming/nursing due to teething pains.
I sent this to my dad this morning so he could diagnose me via internet.

And it looks worse in real life.

Also, don't tell my dad that I am still not entirely sure I will let my son play football (despite his obvious build for it).

Cause I'm a rilllly good mom

Avery:
can clearly say both,"pop" and "french fries", and asks for them when we pass by McDonald's which she recognizes by sight,
and can feed herself two sticks of butter at once OR two suckers at once.
We like to change things up.

So I took a Picture

"Somebody" ran over a sprinkler head in our front yard, resulting in a geyser good enough for any group of neighborhood hoodlems to run through on this 101 degree day. We figured we'd rather just spring for the $5 sprinkler head than pay the HOA who knows what to fix it.

So I got to thinking that it had better get fixed before the sprinklers came back on since we had removed that broken head and would be in for way more than I geyser if there wasn't something there to block the flow. So Avery and I took ourselves on down to Home Depot, picked out the proper replacement, came home, dug up the old sprinkler, and replaced it, all by ourselves. And yes, I am telling you all of this because I am proud.

As I was doing it I noticed that my newly polished nails looked kind of lovely digging in the dirt. And it was kind of wonderful. And then I noticed that Avery who was wearing a dress for no reason other than its Thursday, was having a ball digging in the dirt with the shovel she had seen me use, and I felt proud of that too.

Proud that she is getting so good at doing all the little everyday things she sees me doing. Proud that she is so observant and careful to notice everything. And proud that at least for now, she wants to be just like me.

And I was happy...

That we are women. That we can wear pink nail polish and dresses, while digging holes and playing with dirt. And that we can fix things when they are broken.

All by ourselves.

Abused in the lip

Avery looks sweet, but she packs a mean head butt...the photo doesn't do it justice. It was sore! It makes me feel like a hard core mom though--tough, like when I got hit in the lip with a softball in 7th grade.

our day in numbers

10=time Trav will arrive home tonight
9=things that did not get done on my "to do" list
8=times I have pulled things out of Avery's mouth that should not be in it
7=times I listened to Jason Mraz sing "I'm yours"
6=servings of salt and vinegar potato chips I ate instead of dinner
5=poopy diapers changed (so far)
4=loads of laundry
3=baths Avery has had...see #5
2=number of walks this week with friends that have fancy Bob strollers-- I want one
1= number of teeth making their way out of Avery's swollen gums

dirty mouth

After briefly considering Listerine, toothpaste, or Orbit gum--

I decided this was the only thing I could do after finding Avery wedged between the wall and the toilet,

with that little white cap that covers the toilet screw--

IN HER MOUTH.

Officially the WORST thing she could put in her mouth.

I still kiss those lips though.

warning...this post contains the word porn

I had a quite aggressive knock on my door followed immediately by two doorbell rings at approximately 6:15 pm this evening. I answered the door to find two grossly obese and smelling like smoke Comcast salesman. I have nothing against fat people...let's face it, I sort of am one...I am just trying to paint a picture here. Anyway, Fat guy #1 just launches into this whole schpeal about how they are making our neighborhood a "premium" neighborhood and do I know what that means? Um...that we are super cool? No?

No, it turns out it has something to do with our cable/Internet/phone service. He is sure that he can save me tons of money on my bills. Hmm. We'll see about that I say.

So he asks me, "What kind of TV do you have?"

I reply, " Oh yeah...we actually don't have TV"

He sort of doesn't hear me, and tries to clarify, "No I mean what TV provider are you currently using."

I say, " Yeah, we don't have one. We don't have our TV hooked up."

Him, "Oh, so what do you do for TV?"

I think he just thought I was so dumb that I didn't understand his question, because the possibility that we just didn't have TV was beyond his scope of logic"

Me, "Um we just don't really watch TV...we just don't have it"

Him, "You don't have a TV?

And he just got the most confused look on his face, like the thought of not having TV was just absurd to him. Like there was no preparation in his salesman training for that kind of answer.

Me, "No we have a TV, we just don't have TV service. We kick it old school with bunny ears." And then I actually winked at fat guy #2.

Fat guy #1... no response.

Anyway, the rest of little shpeel continued in much this same manner. I baffled him again when I told him that we also don't have phone service (we just use our cell phones) and we don't have Internet service either (we borrow our neighbors...she said it was OK). He drilled me about the number of movies we watch every month. I informed him about the $1 redbox, and I honestly think he had never heard of it before. He informed me that with his package I could get the "Starz" channel for free. I informed him that I am not into soft-core porn, but thanks anyway.

So I am trying to wrap up his little pitch so I can get back to tummy tickling my baby (which is what I am doing at 6:15 most evenings, and how dare he interrupt), and so I tell him thanks for his time and maybe if he leaves his card I'll call him if we ever decide to join the rest of civilized society and subscribe.

And he says to me, "OK well when he gets home give him this flyer and have him call me."

Um, he who? I didn't say anything about a "he", once, in the entire conversation, and I am pretty sure I am capable of making decisions about our utilities without "his" help. I almost laughed out loud. I think he was still thrown by our lack of TV...