Awww, Jeez!

Thanks for hanging in there, Dear Reader. Back to the mommy madness... or, in my case, the mommy monotony. Before I go on I'd like to quote a Michael Buble song that sums up my mood today:

"It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life for me
And I'm feelin' good"

Yeah, I listen to Michael Buble. You wanna make something of it?

Hee, hee.

For the record, I know that was a Nina Simone song first. I love Nina Simone. I love her so much I named my cat Nina Simone.

(The cat has not lived up to the name.)

I just can't get over the memory of the HBO promo for Six Feet Under, where the cast is walking around a grocery store lip-syncing to that song. There's something about the dead father in the frozen vegetable case that gives me the willies. I do like the Nina Simone version of the song better than the Michael Buble version, but nothing Nina sings sounds happy. She could sing "The Hokey Pokey" and still make you feel like you wanted to put your head in the oven.



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The Chicky Family is in that glorious stage of babyhood between Needy, Helpless Infant and Insufferable Toddler. The stage where every sound that comes out of the Child's mouth (even the burps) is met with oooh's and aww's. I know this stage doesn't last long so I treasure every happy and relatively quiet moment I have with the Child. My friend, K., is not so lucky. She has a 20 month old daughter who lives up to the (usually incorrect) reputation of red-haired children's temperaments. I have to share a story with you that she told me recently. You can file this under "Your children will embarrass you more than you ever thought possible."

Last week K., her husband and their daughter attended church. Usually, the Girl - we'll call her A. - stays in KinderCare while service is going on. But last week there was some sort of family vote that required all members of the family to be in the sanctuary.

(I think its called the Sanctuary. The Protestant terminology is still fuzzy to me since I was raised Catholic.)

Considering the amount of people in there, its pretty quiet. So there's my friends and their 20 month-old daughter, who has a very impressive vocabulary. They're sitting in a pew next to the Pastor's wife. Did I mention its very quiet in the Church? And then, in her loudest voice, A. says...

"Awww, Jeez! I got bad gas. I pooped!"

I didn't get a chance to ask her what the congregation did after that outburst because I was too busy trying not to fall over with laughter. But then the realization that this was soon going to be my life sobered me up real quick. I'm convinced that this is why parent's of teenagers have no problem embarrassing their children. They're making up for years of moments just like this.

Awww, Jeez... what the hell is in store for me?!