12.15.10

When "I Love You" isn’t enough

It was Cal’s birthday yesterday. For weeks, she campaigned for a rock tumbler.
Instead, I got her hand soap. (a.k.a. the gift of life and the best way to say I love you).

Is it just me, or do household items run out allatthesametime? Take toilet paper. When you don’t have it in one bathroom, is it even a surprise when you shuffle to another bathroom and find nothing there either? We ran out of hand soap over the weekend. In every bathroom, natch.
Did I do anything about it? Not really.

I never, ever say “yes” when my child asks, “Can I tell you something?”

The next sentence usually begins with:

  • I broke…
  • I didn’t know…
  • Is it true…
  • Well, (insert name here) said…

Early Saturday morning, she started the ominous string of words. Trouble was a’comin’, I could feel it.

“I don’t have any hand soap in my bathroom.”

I sighed deeply, then told her to get the body wash from her tub and use it as hand soap. It’s called innovation, folks. 

That’s what she did for three days. Take the body wash out of the tub, wash her hands, put it back, repeat, repeat.
On Monday, she forgot this process and had to leave mid-bath to retrieve her wash. Thank you, Jesus, that she didn’t slip.
On her birthday, I gifted her with hand soap. I gave birth to her and now I’m ensuring she stays alive. Lathers of love, I call it.
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By the way, she got the rock tumbler. Since she loves to read, I surprised her with a trip to the bookstore and told her she could pick anything she wanted. Sixty-seven books later, we went home. I wanted to ask her to put sixty-two back, but I figured the extra was her “bonus” for putting up with me, so I stayed silent. Shitness, me and my stupid mouth.

Have you ever gotten a funny/unusual/crazy birthday gift request?
Have you ever been given a funny/unusual/crazy birthday gift?

photo via Pretty Swell Shop @ etsy.com

December 15, 2010
12.06.10

Monday Dare: everyone’s got a talent. even me.

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Try, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please, feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: I will not swear. I am not shitting you. 

It’s a good thing I’m perfect in every other way because swearing is really my only shortcoming. Well, I guess swearing and that nasty shopping habit. Okay, and maybe my driving skills aren’t exactly stellar either. Fine, you beat it out of me, I’m pretty hopeless as a charades partner.

Fuck it. Swearing may be my only talent.

Do you have a Quarter Jar in your home? If I need to explain this concept, you don’t have one, which means you and your well-behaved spouse don’t have a problem with cursing. This probably also means that we couldn’t be friends because I believe in having friends that curse. This puts us both on an even playing field, and no one party can be too “judgey.”

We have a Quarter Jar. It used to be the Dollar Jar, but Harv and I were bleeding so much money into the jar that we hardly had enough left in our wallets for groceries. Just kidding. We had enough for groceries, but no fun date nights. Just kidding. We had enough for date nights, but what fun is a date night if you can’t swear? Cussin’ and wine-in-a-box. Ain’t git better than that.

Here’s where our Quarter Jar went awry. First, our Jar wasn’t an actual jar with actual quarters. Instead, Cal drew a picture of a jar on a sheet of paper and stuck it on the refrigerator. Every time we said a bad word, we were simply supposed to draw a quarter in the jar. Except, Harv and I would draw the quarters exceptionally big, and Cal would try to draw them representative of their real size.

Why were Harv and I drawing them so big (also known as the Quarter Jar Gone Awry Part 2)? We let Cal pick our “punishment” for filling up the jar. Her pick- take a family trip to the bookstore and each of us would get to choose a book. Yes, that’s right folks….I could “shit” and “fuck” my way to a brand new book. Every time we slipped, we drew a big, fat quarter in the jar. One of mine even took up half the page.

(On a related note, I am thinking about writing a book on Parenting with Morals and Values.)

Before you get all judgey, you should know that ALL THREE of us contributed to the Quarter Jar. I caught Cal drawing a quarter in the jar, and I asked her what it was for. She admitted she had said the “B” word. Puzzled, I blurted out, “You said ‘Bitch’?”

“No, Mommy….’Butt’.”

(On a related note, I am still thinking about writing that book on Parenting with Morals and Values.)
______
Ever let a word slip when you didn’t mean to? How do you handle swearing?

photo via blueq.com

December 6, 2010