Maybe She’ll Grow Up and be An Astronaut?!?

“Hey Lovegirl, how about you use the potty today?”

“Hey Mama, how about you put my diaper back on?”

Really. How do I get this kid to use the potty? If you have suggestions, please leave a comment. I know she can. She just won’t.



Me: “Lovegirl, what’re you doing back there this morning? You’re mighty quiet.”

Lovegirl: “I’m reading Mama. You must not know ’bout me.”

Me: (to myself) Thank you Beyonce. Thanks a lot!

Happy Tuesday!

Okay, so. I’ve got some random type thoughts floating through my head. Here, in no particular order, they are.

  • Bri*tney Spears shaved her head bald. So. What?
  • Anesthesiologists are a spoiled bunch. If they wanted a 9-5 job, they should’ve chosen podiatry as a specialty. (I schedule them as part of my job)
  • I love my baby locks! I think going natural is just the best thing ever. The ends have started to lock up, and hopefully the next time I go get washed and retwisted, they’ll be over 1/2 way locked up. I guess they’re about 5 inches long. Cute, cute. And you can believe I’m taking advantage of the current headband rage – I rock one on the daily.
  • I have one more cake decorating class – my final project. I’m thinking that I will not be able to quit my day job and decorate over-priced cakes to bring in an income. (see previous posts for pictorial support)
  • I finished reading “On Beauty.” It was good. Not great. A humorous look at a portion of society I am not a member of. I said I would review it. Hope you were paying attention – that was it.
  • My next book will be by Walter Mosely. Can’t remember the name of it, but it’s upstairs, it’s mine, and I hope to be well on my way to finishing it in the next two weeks.
  • My dear friend is terribly nauseous with baby #2. Any tips/hints/tricks? The doctor is contemplating hospitalizing her it’s so bad. I wasn’t nauseous with Lovegirl, so I don’t have any remedies to suggest. If y’all do – please share.
  • I’m going to see the E*lton J*ohn production of Aida tomorrow night. Excited! Smoochy wasn’t interested, so I’m rolling solo. I don’t really know the story of Aida, so my expectations are pretty minimal – I’m just glad something, anything, of interest is rolling through this state I call home.
  • Alvi*n Ail*ey’s dance troupe is coming through next month. We have no cultural events (the rodeo does not count) for months on end, and now back to back, people of color on stage. Whoo-hoo! They were here a few years back and the performance was absolutely phenomenal. Can’t wait to see what they have in store for us this time. This, Smoochy will accompany me to – I think he enjoyed them more last time than I did. He will never, ever, admit this outside of the walls of our home.
  • I miss California terribly. I’ve lived all of my adult life away from there, so I’m not really sure what – outside of my family – I’m actually missing. Probably just possibilties. Ya know?
  • I’m ready to paint again. I’ve been living with some randomly chosen paint colors on the walls for the last few years, and I’m ready for a more cohesive look. I think I’m going name brand this time (Ra*lph L). I’ll post before and after pics. Maybe.

Okay, many more intriguing thoughts where these came from, but it is 7:28 and a certain someone needs to be in the bed in the next 32 minutes. You know I mean me right?

Good night!!

Patty Cake, Patty Cake

It is 10:24 p.m. as I sit my weary body down to type this quick entry.

Why am I weary? So glad you asked. Hope you were good in math, ’cause this one’s a word problem.

If you take one Nerd Girl and add a box of cake mix, one oven, several cups of shortening, powdered sugar, two and a half hours, a dash of frustration and two hours spent oohing and aahing over the professional teacher’s “easy” results last Monday night, what do you get?

(If this is too easy for you and you think you know the answer, then throw in two trains leaving from two continents at different times traveling different speeds for good measure.)

This my friends is what you get:

Oh, you don’t think that’s too terrible for a non-professional (bless you, but believe me, it is). Let me show you the other side:

And if you think I’m baking another cake, whipping up another batch of frosting, or running to the nearest bakery just so I’ll have something presentable to decorate in class on Monday (all ideas that I seriously considered, albeit briefly) – you are wrong! I’m taking this cake, as is, to class and will happily pipe stars and lines on that portion of the cake which is decorate-able. Which, if you were paying attention, isn’t much.

I’m going to bed.

I’m Living for the Weekend . . .

. . . ’cause that’s when I party down! – The O’Jays

Well, at least that’s when I used to party down. To be honest, I was never much of a partier (sp?), but every once in a while I would feel the need to get my groove on, and I would go out, dance ’til the wee hours of the morning, come home and collapse until Sunday afternoon when I’d get up, bathe and get back in the bed. Other weekends, I’d just hang out leisurely with my friendgirls and/or Smoochy, wander the aisles atBarnes n Noble, window shop, go to the movies or just sleep the weekend away. That was then.

This is now.

Friday night – washed two loads of clothes, talked on the phone, watched endless episodes of CSI:Miami on A&E, straightened up our bedroom, cleaned our bathroom, fell asleep fully dressed before 10 (I only know this, because I was making a concerted effort to actually watch the news – I failed).

Saturday – vacuumed upstairs, straightened up our bedroom – the same room I cleaned less than 12 hours prior!, finished “On Beauty”, went to Sa*llys and bought rubber bands for Lovegirl’s hair, “dry” shampoo for my hair and some twist and loc gel, went to Ol*d Navy and bought Lovegirl a pair of jeans and two shirts, grocery shopped at Wally World, made quesadillas for dinner, talked on the phone, fell asleep fully dressed. Only to be awakened at around 9 by a very congested Lovegirl who swindled me into putting her in my bed so she could sleep. She then proceeded to jump around, relocate several of my internal organs with her sweet little feet, talk, watch a little “TB,” and behave in other ways that led me to surmise that if she desired to do so, she was indeed comfortable enough to sleep. Put Lovegirl back in the crib. And let the crying begin. Put her in my bed, and the vicious cycle began yet again. Finally chunked her in her crib around 11:30. I assume she went to sleep. I did. Fully clothed.

Sunday – no church. Lovegirl is congested and I’m too guilty to put her in the nursery when she’s less than healthy. Watered plants. Washed 1/2 the dishes. Checked in on a few blogs. Updated mine. Cooked dinner – mexican lasagna, rice, mixed veggies. Made a feeble attempt to potty train Lovegirl. Three pairs of panties and a wet chair later, put diaper back on – will try again later.

And now, it’s 12:40. I’m no psychic, but I predict the rest of the day will go a little something like this:

Lovegirl will nap for two or three hours, during which time I’ll think of all the stuff I could/should be doing. I won’t do any of it. We’ll run to the dollar store for matches and a coloring book. I’ll try to feed Lovegirl the dinner I so lovingly prepared. She will reject all attempts at ingesting anything healthy and will ask for cake, cookies, or a hamburger – through clenched teeth just in case I try to slide some of the healthy meal in while she’s talking. I’ll watch the half-time show of the Super Bowl. Lovegirl will get her Sunday bath and go to bed. I’ll fall asleep watching a rerun of some show I don’t watch in prime time while thinking “I really should get up and iron our clothes/make our lunches for the next day/week/month.” Fully clothed.

P.S. I am saving a fortune in birth control since discovering the “fall asleep fully clothed method!” Way more reliable than the rhythm method, no hormonal side effects as with the pill, shots, etc, and requires no effort (trip to the store) on Smoochy’s part! Reminder to self: may not work as well during the summer when clothing is looser and less restrictive.