I'm afraid I am irredeemably out of touch with the mainstream nutjob movement. The other night when I saw an "I Choose Liberty" bumper sticker, all I could think was "What was the other option?"
Because, you know. When I think "Liberty or . . ." the first word that leaps to mind is Death. And if those are my options, then yes, I would choose Liberty too. But what if I could have had a bacon cheeseburger or liberty? Then I'm not so sure.
Nobody half-asses it like me.
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Saturday, January 05, 2013
It's Not Even Leather
This is the reason I subjected you to that old post: we cleaned Number One Cow.
To recap:
Number One Cow - The Favorite, Lumpyhead's lovey;
Cow II, The Phantom- ordered from an online merchant, never arrived;
Cow III, The Flaccid - a semi-look-alike cow that was actually nothing like Cow; and
Cow IV, The Failed Replacement - an identical item that was never accepted.
Like a scorned biblical sister, Cow IV is allowed in Lumpyhead's room - in his bed, even - but has never accompanied us on trips or been considered Lumpyhead's "real" cuddle buddy.
Even when Number One Cow's music box completely broke - making her Cow IV's exact twin, capability-wise - Lumpyhead never considered Cow IV to be an alternate. And by this time, Number One Cow was a filthy mess, thanks to the mechanical music box that rendered Cow un-washable. (Ha. "Rendered." I wonder if cows are sensitive about that word.) Poser Cow IV was never a serious challenger to unseat Number One Cow.
Cool Mom Picks told me about NYC Lovey Repair - which, holy moly, what an amazing thing - and I was inspired to try to clean Cow. If a Brooklyn woman and her seven-year-old could repair seriously damaged antiques, surely I could make one Cow a bit less toxic.
As insurance, I searched ebay for another replacement, just in case this all went horribly awry. You know, because Cow IV is SUCH a raging success and FOUR COWS LATER I HAVE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING. New Cows were available for $35-$50.
Let this be a lesson to thee. Do not allow your children to become attached to loveys that are not machine-washable. (Bump and I followed this important parenting tenet for Lula and Nathan Jr.)
I made up some dry foam, and Lumpyhead helped me scrub Cow.
It became immediately apparent that this simply WOULD. NOT. DO.
So I pulled out Cow'sass butt rump-seam, her stuffing, her damned non-working music box, and gave her a proper dousing.
And again and again and again.
I assured Lumpyhead that Cow would be on the DL for the shortest possible amount of time. So for one glorious evening - during a sleepover in Gramma's room, even - Poser Cow IV made it to The Show. [bittersweet music plays]
Number One Cow air-dried overnight,
and was re-stuffed. After checking with Lumpyhead, I closed up the hole for the music box windup and didn't replace the broken music box. I sewed the rump-seam back up.
"Buddy!" Lumpyhead yelled when I presented the newly cleaned Cow. Lumpyhead is happy to have Cow back, and I'm happy that she's not as completely disgusting as she was a few days ago. (I'm less happy that I have completely lost the argument that the Cow is NOT A "HE." I'm trying to let it go.)
But she is. . .
still not as clean as Poser Cow IV.
But Number One Cow is back - and clean - thanks to the inspiration of NYC Lovey Repair. Those guys are helpful even when they don't do the work themselves.
Lumpyhead has even announced that he's glad Cow's music box is gone. Because now, when he accidentally drops Cow on his face, it doesn't hurt. Bonus.
To recap:
Number One Cow - The Favorite, Lumpyhead's lovey;
Cow II, The Phantom- ordered from an online merchant, never arrived;
Cow III, The Flaccid - a semi-look-alike cow that was actually nothing like Cow; and
Cow IV, The Failed Replacement - an identical item that was never accepted.
Like a scorned biblical sister, Cow IV is allowed in Lumpyhead's room - in his bed, even - but has never accompanied us on trips or been considered Lumpyhead's "real" cuddle buddy.
Even when Number One Cow's music box completely broke - making her Cow IV's exact twin, capability-wise - Lumpyhead never considered Cow IV to be an alternate. And by this time, Number One Cow was a filthy mess, thanks to the mechanical music box that rendered Cow un-washable. (Ha. "Rendered." I wonder if cows are sensitive about that word.) Poser Cow IV was never a serious challenger to unseat Number One Cow.
 |
| Poser Cow IV (right, pristine) and Number One Cow (loved, but disgusting) |
Cool Mom Picks told me about NYC Lovey Repair - which, holy moly, what an amazing thing - and I was inspired to try to clean Cow. If a Brooklyn woman and her seven-year-old could repair seriously damaged antiques, surely I could make one Cow a bit less toxic.
As insurance, I searched ebay for another replacement, just in case this all went horribly awry. You know, because Cow IV is SUCH a raging success and FOUR COWS LATER I HAVE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING. New Cows were available for $35-$50.
Let this be a lesson to thee. Do not allow your children to become attached to loveys that are not machine-washable. (Bump and I followed this important parenting tenet for Lula and Nathan Jr.)
I made up some dry foam, and Lumpyhead helped me scrub Cow.
It became immediately apparent that this simply WOULD. NOT. DO.
So I pulled out Cow's
 |
| Ew. |
 |
| Then I did it again. |
And again and again and again.
I assured Lumpyhead that Cow would be on the DL for the shortest possible amount of time. So for one glorious evening - during a sleepover in Gramma's room, even - Poser Cow IV made it to The Show. [bittersweet music plays]
Number One Cow air-dried overnight,
and was re-stuffed. After checking with Lumpyhead, I closed up the hole for the music box windup and didn't replace the broken music box. I sewed the rump-seam back up.
"Buddy!" Lumpyhead yelled when I presented the newly cleaned Cow. Lumpyhead is happy to have Cow back, and I'm happy that she's not as completely disgusting as she was a few days ago. (I'm less happy that I have completely lost the argument that the Cow is NOT A "HE." I'm trying to let it go.)
But she is. . .
But Number One Cow is back - and clean - thanks to the inspiration of NYC Lovey Repair. Those guys are helpful even when they don't do the work themselves.
Lumpyhead has even announced that he's glad Cow's music box is gone. Because now, when he accidentally drops Cow on his face, it doesn't hurt. Bonus.
Friday, January 04, 2013
From the Unpublished Drafts Folder - April 20, 2009
[As I was madly searching for this post, I realized I never published it. Can't figure out why, what with it being SO RIVETING and all. Sorry. Try not to fall asleep before you get to the part where NATHAN JR IS A WEE TINY BABY. Bay. Bee. Kills me, dead.]
Hey, remember Lumpyhead's Cow? More importantly, do you remember my attempts to procure a spare Cow, which is how we ended up with Floppy Cow?
Cow still accompanies Lumpyhead to bed. Cow II (who is actually Cow IV, because real Cow II never showed up and Cow III turned out to be Floppy Cow - but whatever - the Emergency Replacement Cow) is also still hanging around, although her music box died almost immediately and she was quickly spurned for the poser she is. She sits in a corner of Lumpyhead's bed, looking brand new. Cow (aka "Number One Cow," as Lumpyhead calls her - although Lumpyhead and his father refer to the animal in the masculine - which drives me fricken nuts - it's a COW, not a BULL, it's a GIRL) has lost her beloved bell and her music box still makes noise but doesn't really operate as the manufacturer intended. Number One Cow comes out to the living room with Lumpyhead and spends her day there, until it's time to go back to bed.
Here's Number One Cow with imitation Floppy Cow - who was recently [not that recently, actually] perched atop Nathan Jr's head.
I set them up like this when Lumpyhead announced he wanted to take a picture, too.
Nathan Jr is just glad the damn thing isn't on his head anymore.
Lumpyhead's picture is pretty good:
Right before Lumpyhead took his photo, he chirped "Say cheese, Guys!" at the cows, which is apparently what someone else always barks at him and his sister.
Bump thought he should have said "Make cheese, Guys."
Bump did not make fun of me for our child parroting my words. Even though I always laugh at him when Lula demands "Did you hear what I just said, Lumpyhead?" as she's ordering her brother around.
Hey, remember Lumpyhead's Cow? More importantly, do you remember my attempts to procure a spare Cow, which is how we ended up with Floppy Cow?
Cow still accompanies Lumpyhead to bed. Cow II (who is actually Cow IV, because real Cow II never showed up and Cow III turned out to be Floppy Cow - but whatever - the Emergency Replacement Cow) is also still hanging around, although her music box died almost immediately and she was quickly spurned for the poser she is. She sits in a corner of Lumpyhead's bed, looking brand new. Cow (aka "Number One Cow," as Lumpyhead calls her - although Lumpyhead and his father refer to the animal in the masculine - which drives me fricken nuts - it's a COW, not a BULL, it's a GIRL) has lost her beloved bell and her music box still makes noise but doesn't really operate as the manufacturer intended. Number One Cow comes out to the living room with Lumpyhead and spends her day there, until it's time to go back to bed.
Here's Number One Cow with imitation Floppy Cow - who was recently [not that recently, actually] perched atop Nathan Jr's head.
I set them up like this when Lumpyhead announced he wanted to take a picture, too.
Nathan Jr is just glad the damn thing isn't on his head anymore.Lumpyhead's picture is pretty good:
Right before Lumpyhead took his photo, he chirped "Say cheese, Guys!" at the cows, which is apparently what someone else always barks at him and his sister.Bump thought he should have said "Make cheese, Guys."
Bump did not make fun of me for our child parroting my words. Even though I always laugh at him when Lula demands "Did you hear what I just said, Lumpyhead?" as she's ordering her brother around.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Thursday, November 01, 2012
2012 Costume Post (Mortem)
1. Nathan Jr
He wore the braid! He wore the braid!
(Winning!)
I made the tunic using Simplicity pattern 5840, which is sized for adults. (I know, HAWT, right? Adult male Jedi costume. I just. . . )Anyway, you know where this is going, right? I made a smaller version of the tunic and it was waaaaay too big for Nathan Jr.
Solution? Lumpyhead's school costume = Origami Yoda.
I then made another - smaller - one for Nathan Jr, which, as you can probably tell, is almost too small. Awesome.
2. Lula
Lula was Leia on Bespin, which I guess technically made her a Disney Princess.
I decided the costume was "representative" enough, and gave up on the whole idea. The cloak was more see-through than it appears in the photos; it was the cheapest plain white cotton fabric I could find, which - surprise, surprise - was quite sheer.
3. Lumpyhead
Lumpyhead was Darth Maul, and we totally bought that entire costume for slightly less than I spent on the materials for either of the other two costumes.
I'm an idiot.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Halloween Costume Preview
Yesterday, I went to not one, but TWO beauty supply stores for a fake hair braid.
1. Beauty supply stores are freaky, godawful places that frighten me. Like that first time you stepped into Babies R Us for a shower gift and had to run screaming from the place. It's like that, but with wigs.
2. I also went to Auto Zone and bought new wiper blades. That was much less baffling, but still not my regular kind of venue. Wiper blades always remind me of my friend Emily, who once had a mechanic tell her that "all right-thinking people change their wiper blades every six months." I hope she doesn't use that mechanic any more. Because all right-thinking people are obviously like me, and change their wiper blades three rainstorms after it becomes painfully apparent that their wiper blades are shot.
3. [hysterical aside] HURRICANE SANDY IS GOING TO END US ALL! AHHHHHHHH! (I bought the new wiper blades before I learned a franken-cane was going to kill us all to death, bee tee dubs.)
4. Numbers 2 and 3 have nothing to do with Halloween costumes.
5. My son refuses to wear a fake braid.
"Hoods are better than braids," he told me, as he casually leaned against the couch this morning. Here's the photo his father took at the preschool costume parade this morning:
Whatever. Maybe he'll wear the $9 fake braid for trick-or-treating.
Lula is going to be Leia on Bespin, and Lumpyhead is going to be Darth Maul. If the HURRICANE OF DOOM doesn't get us first, that is.
1. Beauty supply stores are freaky, godawful places that frighten me. Like that first time you stepped into Babies R Us for a shower gift and had to run screaming from the place. It's like that, but with wigs.
2. I also went to Auto Zone and bought new wiper blades. That was much less baffling, but still not my regular kind of venue. Wiper blades always remind me of my friend Emily, who once had a mechanic tell her that "all right-thinking people change their wiper blades every six months." I hope she doesn't use that mechanic any more. Because all right-thinking people are obviously like me, and change their wiper blades three rainstorms after it becomes painfully apparent that their wiper blades are shot.
3. [hysterical aside] HURRICANE SANDY IS GOING TO END US ALL! AHHHHHHHH! (I bought the new wiper blades before I learned a franken-cane was going to kill us all to death, bee tee dubs.)
4. Numbers 2 and 3 have nothing to do with Halloween costumes.
5. My son refuses to wear a fake braid.
"Hoods are better than braids," he told me, as he casually leaned against the couch this morning. Here's the photo his father took at the preschool costume parade this morning:
Lula is going to be Leia on Bespin, and Lumpyhead is going to be Darth Maul. If the HURRICANE OF DOOM doesn't get us first, that is.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Next Up, String Theory
I had this exchange with Nathan Jr in the car last week:
Nathan Jr: Do you know Kate?
Me: Kate who?
NJ: [indignant] No! This isn't a knock-knock joke.
Me: [not laughing, no really] Okay. [maybe snickering a little]
NJ: [slowly, like I'm an idiot] Do you know Kate?
Me: [mentally ticking through all the Kates with whom I am acquainted; and they are many] Which Kate do you mean?
NJ: He's in my class at school.
Me: [Now legitimately confused. Kate's a dude?]
Bump: You mean Kate Something-Something (I'm not protecting identities here, I don't remember what he said) from school?
NJ: Yes.
Me: No, I don't know her.
NJ: [getting to the damn point, already] Sometimes she calls me Nate-Nate.
Me: She does? (Awwwwww)
NJ: [sternly] Yes. And that's not appropriate.
Me: Okay.
I love that my four-year-old is exploring the concept of appropriate, something I have clearly not yet mastered. Also? It's funny to hear a four-year-old say the word "appropriate."
Nathan Jr: Do you know Kate?
Me: Kate who?
NJ: [indignant] No! This isn't a knock-knock joke.
Me: [not laughing, no really] Okay. [maybe snickering a little]
NJ: [slowly, like I'm an idiot] Do you know Kate?
Me: [mentally ticking through all the Kates with whom I am acquainted; and they are many] Which Kate do you mean?
NJ: He's in my class at school.
Me: [Now legitimately confused. Kate's a dude?]
Bump: You mean Kate Something-Something (I'm not protecting identities here, I don't remember what he said) from school?
NJ: Yes.
Me: No, I don't know her.
NJ: [getting to the damn point, already] Sometimes she calls me Nate-Nate.
Me: She does? (Awwwwww)
NJ: [sternly] Yes. And that's not appropriate.
Me: Okay.
I love that my four-year-old is exploring the concept of appropriate, something I have clearly not yet mastered. Also? It's funny to hear a four-year-old say the word "appropriate."
Monday, October 22, 2012
Bingo Night at Chez Lumpyhead
Aunt Bob and Pete came over on Friday night. Over dinner, one of the children asked, "What's a tyrant?"
"It's an adult who acts like a two-year-old," I said.
The adults ignored me. I muttered to Pete that I defied him to prove me wrong. Bump played it straight. "It's a ruler who uses power unfairly," he said.
I looked at Pete pointedly. "See? How is that not how a two-year-old acts?"
Pete continued to ignore me.
"Like a ferowa?" Lumpyhead asked.
"A what?" everyone responded.
"A fah-row-ah. Or maybe it's a pah-row-ah."
Oh, it was on. A puzzle cannot be left unsolved - not in this company - and you could see four adult brains scanning all that he could mean. Pete and I went the video game route. Mario character? Someone in Rayman?
"Tell me more about it," Bump asked.
"Like in ancient Egypt," Lumpyhead said.
Bump got there first. "Do you mean a pharaoh?"
"AH-HAH!" the other three of us yelled.
A fah-ROW-ah.
Also, we're huge dorks.
"It's an adult who acts like a two-year-old," I said.
The adults ignored me. I muttered to Pete that I defied him to prove me wrong. Bump played it straight. "It's a ruler who uses power unfairly," he said.
I looked at Pete pointedly. "See? How is that not how a two-year-old acts?"
Pete continued to ignore me.
"Like a ferowa?" Lumpyhead asked.
"A what?" everyone responded.
"A fah-row-ah. Or maybe it's a pah-row-ah."
Oh, it was on. A puzzle cannot be left unsolved - not in this company - and you could see four adult brains scanning all that he could mean. Pete and I went the video game route. Mario character? Someone in Rayman?
"Tell me more about it," Bump asked.
"Like in ancient Egypt," Lumpyhead said.
Bump got there first. "Do you mean a pharaoh?"
"AH-HAH!" the other three of us yelled.
A fah-ROW-ah.
Also, we're huge dorks.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
At Least I Got a Corndog
Bump considered bringing Nathan Jr to the Nationals game this afternoon, but the cheap tickets dried up and he changed his mind. He opted to bring Nathan Jr in to have lunch with me instead.
But when Aunt Bob called with an extra ticket, he was sorely tempted. In the end, he decided he needed to run the errands he had put off this morning. He declined.
When we met for lunch, I tried to get him to go to the game. I offered to take Nathan Jr to Costco and pick up Lumpyhead and Lula from school.
"Really?" Bump said, looking at me as though I had just claimed I could move a pull-out sleeper sofa by myself.
"I'm not saying it would be without disaster," I clarified, "but I could do it."
I'm sure Bump weighed the attraction of an afternoon baseball game in the sun, with discount beer and no children, against the impending doom of me driving the van, trying to navigate a warehouse store with a sugar-saturated four-year-old, and picking up two children from elementary school.
Yeah, it would have been a shitfest of apocalyptic proportions.
We had a good lunch, though.
But when Aunt Bob called with an extra ticket, he was sorely tempted. In the end, he decided he needed to run the errands he had put off this morning. He declined.
When we met for lunch, I tried to get him to go to the game. I offered to take Nathan Jr to Costco and pick up Lumpyhead and Lula from school.
"Really?" Bump said, looking at me as though I had just claimed I could move a pull-out sleeper sofa by myself.
"I'm not saying it would be without disaster," I clarified, "but I could do it."
I'm sure Bump weighed the attraction of an afternoon baseball game in the sun, with discount beer and no children, against the impending doom of me driving the van, trying to navigate a warehouse store with a sugar-saturated four-year-old, and picking up two children from elementary school.
Yeah, it would have been a shitfest of apocalyptic proportions.
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