June Cleaver Nirvana

Happy Monday everyone. I am extra perky today due to Mimi and Bampa in charge of three little boys. Blog-Stedman and I drove out of town as quickly as possible to enjoy the Texas hill country for a quick get away. Yesterday afternoon and evening we spent several grueling hours floating in inter tubes on a lazy river.

For potluck food, just let me know what you want, I will order room service. Just don't drink the honor bar water, it is a whopping $4.50. If I see that water charge on my bill, I will hunt you down...




I have been having some tailbone pain for awhile. I have been faithfully going to physical therapy (which has been a real challenge since I am a PT. The logistics of treating your own tailbone pain is a bit insurmountable.)

Since the pain has not been getting better over the last few weeks I had an MRI last Thursday. My personal Radiologist (blog-Stedman, MD) called me as I left saying, "Wow. You have a lot of swelling around your coccyx. It really looks like it hurts."

Thanks. I guess validation is a good thing. So what do you do for coccyx edema?



DONUT! Not the yummy, warm from the oven Krispy Kreme...the rubber, blow up kind that you sit on. My personal donut is light red in color. Yes, when I sit it appears as if I am sitting on a whoppie cushion. Oh the joys.

As we were leaving this morning to get into the car, Reid (4) says, "mommy don't forget your toilet".




I had a dear reader arrive after Googling, "picture of a lady with a cleaver in her hand" this week. I had thought this thought once or twice, but not posted such a thing. Are some of my dear readers psychic?

I am so happy to announce that searches for "crapicity" has overtaken "june cleaver nude" and "june cleaver naked" combined! I am so relieved. This is an obvious result of the higher caliber of reader that the Nirvana now attracts.

Nap Warden graciously installed feedburner last week. I am up to a whopping 4 subscribers! I know! I know! If anyone has a suggestion on how to get that number to reflect ACTUAL subscribers, I would really appreciate it. I feel all lonely...

Which brings me to the Haloscan saga. I will from now on refer to it as Hellscan. I was so sure I wanted it because I would really like to have your (yes, your) email addresses to send responses to comments and stalk you in a friendly kinda way. So Nap Warden granted my wish. Hellscan then did it's job of HIDING EVERY SINGLE COMMENT I HAD EVER RECEIVED ON THE NIRVANA. What?!?

Yes, every single comment was hidden. I thought they were all deleted forever and fell into a deep, lonely depression because I need your comments. I love your comments. Please don't delete my comments Hellscan!

I begged Nap Warden to de-install Hellscan. She was so sweet and again granted my wish. My original comments returned! Cue the angel choir. I regained my happiness. I won't cheat on you again Blogger (at least not until I fully recover from this episode).

The only problem was I am missing all the comments of the 36 hours I was on Hellscan. That is a small price to pay for the greater comment good. I am temporarily cured from my grass is greener syndrome.

When I downloaded my pictures this week to get ready for Sunday's photo post, I came across the following pictures that I did not take:




Being a super great detective, I am thinking that a certain 7 y/o named Ryan may have "borrowed" the camera...

Have I mentioned I have a pain in the butt?

Update: We just got the hotel bill and someone drank the $4.50 water...

I exposed one of my areas of motherhood ignorance yesterday.

Several of you caught it. Hey thanks...I have been feeling inadequate in this area since Ryan was born.

I was reminded of my cluelessness in this area recently when reading Manic Mommy's job description. I read this list thinking, "I am doing OK in every area except for this one".

I have read parenting books. I have researched. I have spent hours in thought. Still, no answer.

So I offer up to you, wise and dear readers, my burning question of motherhood:

Does it really matter what weight pajama you dress your child in if you keep your house at exactly the same temperature year around?

*gasp*

*ahem*

*avert your eyes*

Yes, I have just admitted that I have no idea whether the boys should be in footy fleece or shorts and t-shirts.

No book has addressed this. The only reference they make is something like...just dress your baby in one more layer then you are wearing.

FINE! But I sleep in shorts and a camisole and under two blankets.

Since babies can't sleep with blankets, do my blanket layers count? So would that be 2 layers or 4?

What if I throw off one blanket during the night? Should I rush in and strip a layer off of him? So would that be 1 layer or 5?

What if I start the ceiling fan in the room during the night? Should I turn on his fan and add a layer (or not) or leave the fan off and subtract a layer? So would that be sleeping naked or packed so tightly into multiple pajama layers that the poor child can't bend his arm to place thumb in mouth?

I live in Texas. During the summer it is hot. But we don't like the house to be hot so we run the air conditioner. Texas winters are mild. But we have very thin blood and run the heater if needed. So really the temperature is the same every night.

To prove my schizophrenia on this issue I took the above picture tonight (see the Stars Hockey in the background?) where Ryan is warm and cozy from head to foot and Rhett is sporting shorty wife beaters. How did I get here?

Oh, did I mention that Ryan won't wear anything else and Rhett will scream unmercifully if his "orange jammies" are dirty. That is my thought process. My parenting book will be in stores soon...

***
Please note that the title is from one of the greatest pajama resources of all time, Sandra Boynton's Pajama Time. I can't leave you hanging so let me finish so you can get on with your day:

Now all around the room in one big line,
wearing our pajamas and looking so fine.
It's Pajama Time!

Hop in the bed. Turn out the light.
You can have a party in your dreams tonight.
IT'S PAJAMA TIME!
(Hush, Hush)
It's Pajama Time!
(Hush, Hush)
it's pajama time.
(shhhhhhhhhhhhh.)

Hi to all of you who partake weekly in the potluck. Oh, and if you are new around here, please scroll below to the Trapper story. You really should start there.


Happy, happy Monday! Whooo hooo.

I am not serving food today. You will have to bring your own to the potluck. Deal, people. Deal. (rebel tendency #1)


On Friday my mom and I took the three boys to the Dallas Museum of Art. The place is fantastic. The kids were very interested in many of the things we saw. They were as well behaved as boys ages 2,4 and 7 could ever, ever expect to be. BUT that didn't stop the staff of the DMA from yelling at us for the following (rebel tendencies #2-#5):

1. We had just gotten into the building. We were walking down the hall that lead to the galleries. I want to emphasize that there wasn't a piece of art within 100 yards of us when my 3 boys ran up an empty staircase in the corridor. *gasp* Then they ran down. *gasp* A DMA staff member ran to me quietly shouting, "children should NOT be on the stairs unassisted. They could fall and hurt themselves." I assured her that they have been independent in their stair climbing for years. I had actually been proud of them for choosing an appropriate area to run off excess energy. Whatever. (Rebel tendency #2)

2. The boys had been told not to touch anything. They had followed this throughout the museum. Toward the end, Rhett(2) found a glass case that contained some really cool drawings. He pointed to them. His pointer finger touched the glass case. *gasp* A museum employee ran to us and sternly reprimanded my 2 y/o for putting a finger print on a glass case that was sitting on the floor. Really? Of all the things he could accidentally touch this seems like something that did no harm. Whatever. (Rebel tendency #3)

3. When we entered the museum I had checked to see if they had a photography ban. Nothing was posted. I had taken pictures (many are in my yesterday's post) throughout (without flash...the art is so beautifully lit). I took the picture of the random father/daughter because the moment unfolded right before me. *gasp* A museum employee flew across the room to give me a 10 minute lecture on what artwork could be photographed. According to my lesson, you can only photograph art that was a GIFT to the museum. Hmmmmmm. I missed the whole part where anything in the museum wasn't a gift from a foundation, person or taxpayer (me!). Whatever. (Rebel tendency #4)

I know! Right now you are thinking...WHO IS SHE? Where is our perky, harmless Holly?


Rotten Sweet potatoes. (Rebel tendency #6)

I just realized that I skipped rebel tendency #5...and I am not even going to change it. (I know! I know!)

I am going to switch this segment around a little today (rebel tendency #7) to throw AllTop.com under the bus (rebel tendency #8). I have been watching my stats and have received a total of 14 visits through the AllTop.com site. I have been responsible for at least 4 of those (rebel tendency #9). So, should I go join the much more fun AllMediocre.com hosted by my favorite blogging buddy, Meg? Please vote with your comments. (yes, that would be rebel tendency #10)


Oh, I gave that slogan to Meg while still listed on AllTop.com. (rebel tendency #11)


So today I am off to celebrate Ryan's last day of school. Last day? Celebrate? Would it be wrong of me to dread that summer starts tomorrow (rebel tendency #12)...

I would contribute the left overs from Monday's potluck, but there aren't any. The Herb Sliders were easy and amazing. Blog-Stedman ended up doing the ACTUAL cooking which is probably why they were easy and amazing, but I helped...a little. Prep work, people. Prep work.

I do have 1/2 a chicken salad sandwich in the fridge from the fab play date yesterday:I tried to hold back from saying the following, but I can't help it...AREN'T THEY JUST THE CUTEST? I want to thank Anglophile Football Fanatic for not running in terror when I showed up in this outfit: We had a really good time while the boy's played contently in the Pottery Barn Kids store PINK kitchen.

I also have 1/3rd of a cinnamon bagel pretzel from "The Other Boleyn Girl". It has been years since I have gone to a movie. Way back then they didn't serve $4.25 pretzels and tickets were not $9. The down side was you had to walk uphill through snow without shoes both ways. My movie review (this is shocking and unexpected): the book is better then the movie.

I was tagged by R World for the book meme: grab the book nearest to your left elbow, open to page 123, and then copy the sixth, seventh, and eighth sentences. My book is "Microtrends" by Mark Penn (I am a very complex, don't judge me). And this is the magical quote from the chapter "Late breaking Gays":

"Can he say he loves me--and in fact never desire another woman--and yet still leave me for a greater passion when we're 45? How do I turn on the Gaydar now, and here, while we're still dating? Perhaps the dating Web sites, and prenuptial counseling services, will want to add a couple of questions about sexual preference."

Tag, you are it: Pinky, Domestic Accident, Rachel, Jessica and Lupitasloves. Just curious what you are reading these days...

Please check out the fancy pink box on the right for really funny stuff that I read over the last few days. Oh, and let me clarify Potluck rules. There is no theft...potlucks are welcome in any location as long as I am invited. In fact, if you find yourself needing to throw a potluck....use this by replacing all the ( and ) with < and >:

(a href="http://junecleavernirvana.blogspot.com/")(img border="0" view¤t="nwdesigns3.jpg" = alt="Photobucket" src="http://img233.imageshack.us/img233/5268/potluckht9.jpg"/)(/a)

and you will have this, that when clicked on will send people my way:


The universal potluck is my first step in blogworld domination. If there is interest, I will get one of those fancy link boxes.

*Mommy disclaimer: I believe potty training stories fall into the realm of "things other people don't want to hear about unless they are going through it or just did". Other things that potentially fall into this category: fishing stories, golf game reports, fantasy football records and yes, this is going to be controversial here, but birth stories *gasp*, *and now for the sound of mommies rushing to delete me from their readers* *and now for the sound of me saying "Crap! I was just making some progress in the traffic stats here"*, *and now for the sound of me retracting that last statement because as I am about to reveal below, this is all about me*. So, if I may finally get to my point here. As stated before, it is Nirvana policy that no one is under contractual obligation to read. If you do not have wee ones or are a blood relative to my wee ones, please look to the right in the fancy pink box and click on the funny thing of your choice. You are excused for today, but I expect you back tomorrow.*

About 3 years ago the following scene happened in an Ultrasound room at a local hospital:
US Tech: So, you have two boys, huh?
Me and blog-Stedman: uh, huh.
US Tech: *pointing to screen* Do you see that right there?
Me: Oh Lord...I have to potty train THREE BOYS?
Let me clarify that I was excited about having another boy because realistically, I have all the stuff and I am getting into the groove of this, but the horror that is potty training overwhelmed me at that moment and has come back to haunt me now. I figure that God sent me this last boy to potty train to entertain Himself. I can hear the heavenly mockinglaughter now.

Let's have a potty training review--
BOY #1: I read ever article, book, pamphlet, Internet advice and watched the Dr. Phil potty train in one day show. I got all the stuff recommended. I started just after Ryan turned 2 in hopes that he would be potty trained by the time his brother was born. I followed the Dr. Phil plan to the letter. Throwing massive pee parties complete with favors and noise makers. By day three I was a huddled mass on the bathroom floor yearning to be free. Free from the hell of potty training. Free from the restraints of living in the bathroom. Free from the FAILURE. I made an executive decision to stop the hemorrhaging. We discontinued the potty training. Didn't mention it until well after the baby was born. Didn't do anything else until Ryan was 3. Didn't do anything but write a scathing email to Dr. Phil.

BOY #1 Round Two: Ryan has always been smart. Too smart. He has always been conniving. Too conniving. Waiting to potty train a child until after 3 who is smart and conniving is a recipe for disaster. Overall, it was easier to get him to go on the potty and complete the necessary tasks, BUT then the bargaining began. He started holding his poop and pee hostage for ever escalating demands. "I will go pee on the potty if you give me this". "I will go poop on the potty if you will give me that". Lord help me. I made an executive decision to stop all rewards and then suffered the consequences. But finally well after mommy exhaustion had set in, BOY #1 was FINALLY potty trained *insert angel choir singing here*.

BOY #2: I can sometimes learn from my mistakes. I didn't even think potty training with Boy #2 until age 3. I set aside 2 weeks to vegetate on the bathroom floor and we began. Boy #2 is a very different soul from his older brother. Boy #2 has no interest in rewards or winning. Boy #2 lives in a different world. I often describe Reid as being "on island time". So, for 2 straight weeks of me obsessing about the potty, Reid did not go on the potty. Not. one. time. Then on day 10 he suddenly went pee while standing and afterward never had an accident. The switch had been flipped. Hallelujah, except for one tiny issue: poop. Yes, my dear island boy hadn't pooped on the potty. Not. one. time. He stood to pee and then would go poop in his underwear. This went on and on for NINE MONTHS. Nine months. Nine months. Yep, you read that correctly, nine months. Then he decided to poop on the potty and hasn't had an accident. Boy #2 was FINALLY potty trained *insert angel choir singing here*.

BOY #3: My crazy baby turned 2 in December. He believes he is 5 and because he follows his brothers around all day is a bit advanced in some areas. He has shunned all things baby for awhile and now is shunning the diaper. He is obsessed with the potty. When we are out shopping he will ask to go to the potty. I politely tell him that he isn't potty trained and I am not going into a disgusting public restroom with him for that purpose until he is. He is showing ALL the signs of potty readiness. ALL THE SIGNS. Yet, I do nothing. Don't get me wrong, if we are HOME and he wants to go potty, I oblige. BUT I am not doing anything extra to encourage it. WHY? Because I am tired. Because I am terrified. Because I hear heavenly mocking in my head. Because I am lazy. Because I know my life will never be the same once we start. Because, because, because...

What would happen if I just said no to potty training?

Would that be so wrong?

Here is a random picture from the fishing expedition...I don't think I "caught" any of the jumping fish on film...

Blog-Stedman and I were laying in bed yesterday morning...very early...before yoga and heard on the radio that a dry cleaners had burned down. Blog-Stedman said, "that is our dry cleaners" and being the eternal, yet unsubstantiated optomist I replied, "oh, I am sure you heard wrong". Nope! A quick internet search revealed that it was OUR dry cleaners and we had a LOT of clothes there...including the favorite sweater from the never ending minivan attack story. The delivery van always shows up at 1:30 in the afternoon so I just needed to wait until then to learn the fate of our clothes. I nearly hugged Tim, the driver when he showed up on time carrying plastic wrapped nirvana. Turns out that it was not the location that cleans our clothes, but the building did burn to the ground that employs 38 people (no one was hurt in the fire) and many, many people were not as lucky as I was to see their favorite sweater again.

Yeah! I am a finalist again this week in Mrs. Fussypant's caption contest. Please vote for my quite insightful (as far as insights go in the cat therapy world) caption, "The ugly truth behind why cats hate water" here . Once again I am losing miserably to a blog-related comment...yes, dear reader I am learning slowly and next week will submit a caption that also will bring in the vote of the blog special interest group (BSIG). I am naming her as my future caption campaigning chairwoman due to her comments I should have listened to last week!.

I know this is my third post today (and that is NOT why I need your help). I have a babysitter all day and am frittering it away...but you remember what happened last time I ventured out in the minivan alone.

I am one of the caption-writing finalists in Mrs. Fussypant's contest this week. There is a poll on her website that I will give to you after I have primed you to vote in the correct manner:


My caption for this picture is (and it is so obviously the right one):

Escape from the Crafty Taxidermist--a tale of two stuffed birds that came to life and fled their craft store nest perched in a plastic ficus tree under faux painted sky.

The caption was too long to fit in the voting box so I am miserably losing. Please, rescue me...I can handle not winning, but coming in LAST would be tragic...

Vote here for my caption ONLY!

In the interest of being right fair, I am posting my mother's emailed defense of her peanutbutter roast (Sidebar: I was raised vegetarian and to clarify in veggie land, roast=casserole and there is no meat in this recipe) from my now controversial remarks in yesterday's potluck. I will let the public decide whether peanutbutter roast is table worthy:

"Hi hi ...
In defense of peanutbutter roast: NO it does NOT have carrots in it ... only tomatoes, rice, and onions ... and peanutbutter! Your father still likes it! I thought it was a family favorite!!!??? I would like to ask Freddie (my brother who I will get an opinion from in the future) ... did he like peanutbutter roast???
Love ya!"

Summary: The peanutbutter roast contains peanutbutter, tomatoes, rice and onions.

The polls are now open....Decision 2007...you decide!