Sydney Largenton, as I like to call her (or sometimes, Sydney Jerkenton), has a virus. Actually she has two. BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU WANT ONLY ONE? Now, lest anyone think that I am exaggerating, the doctor told me today that she almost definitely has two due to her disparity of symptons: fever, red throat, boogers and general ornery-ness. She, who is usually a pleasant child, gave everyone in the doctor's office today the most miserable and memorable stink eye I have ever seen. Even the other sick children shut-up upon seeing her Medusa glare.
After we got home from this wonderful outing (you should be able to cut that sarcasm with a knife if I'm not getting that across) she finally settled down after a good dose of Jack. It's amazing to me that he who constantly pokes, pats, knocks, bumps, and crushes her is her favorite person, hands-down. So Jack managed to cheer her up, and as I was preparing his dinner, I overheard him telling her: "Baby, baby, you need to RELAX."
Again, I think that he will make an excellent husband.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Bring in Da Noise...
Soooo two weekends ago we drove to New Jersey to visit my oldest and dearest friend and also to attend her Grad School graduation picnic. That's right, NEW JERSEY. Four states away. The kicker was that I drove the first 300 miles sansDan.
The most exciting part of our journey was remarkably before we left North Carolina. While on the highway that we take for 50 miles to get to I-95 (i.e., the first tiny leg of our trip), we came upon a huge traffic jam: apparently a tractor-trailer had flipped and lodged itself across a bridged overpass, so basically no one could get through. The accident had just happened so there were only about 50 cars between us and the carnage. Now, I was sitting there in dead-locked traffic thinking, "Thank God we didn't leave 10 minutes earlier, we could have been in that accident!"
10 minutes and approximately 3,000 questions from Jack later I was thinking "OH MY GOD PLEASE CLEAR THESE BODIES AND CRUMPLED CAR PARTS AWAY FASTER!" (It's a clear demonstration of how quickly parental optimism can turn into wretched, karma-ruining desperation. IT HAPPENS TO ALL OF US.)
Then several good things happened, of which I credit this gorgeous state entirely: Several police cars (Dukes Of Hazzard, muscle-type cop cars) sped by our basically parked car on the wide, grassy shoulders...that's right, SHOULDERS. I would estimate that at least 15 amazingly-matchbox-car-like vehicles sped by either side of us blowing up grass and gravel in their wakes, causing my 4-year old son to practically pee in his seat. Only moments later a police officer actually parked next to us on the shoulder and walked to the 18-wheeler ahead of us to talk to the driver. As he was coming back to his cruiser, he spotted Jack shrieking excitedly out of his window and came over to inform me that a) no one was hurt in the accident ahead, and b) my son is extremely loud.
Once Jack recovered from his near-cop-experience, I noticed that people were actually maneuvering their cars around to drive back West on the shoulder. Now, we are on the East-bound side of a large highway. They were just driving the wrong way down the shoulder! I watched, incredulously, explaining to Jack that those people were clearly idiots.
Fast-forward 4 minutes and I am maneuvering my car around to drive backwards up the highway. Apparently a road-block had been set up behind us and we were allowed to drive the wrong way on the highway and up an ENTRANCE ramp, with the blessing of a North Carolina State Trooper, to take a rural detour route. The entire time that I am driving THE WRONG WAY down the grassy shoulder, Jack is screaming, "LOOK OUT! WE'RE THE POLICE!!!" I was half-expecting him to throw in "m*therf*ckers!" a la Samuel Jackson. Thankfully he didn't. Or else I was just too deafened by his screams to actually hear it.
Needless to say, we eventually made our way to VA, MD, DE, and NJ and had a fantastic time with our satellite families. The ride home was unfortunately (depending on how you look at it) without incident, and all of us have taken a solemn vow never to drive anywhere further than two-hours away ever again.
The most exciting part of our journey was remarkably before we left North Carolina. While on the highway that we take for 50 miles to get to I-95 (i.e., the first tiny leg of our trip), we came upon a huge traffic jam: apparently a tractor-trailer had flipped and lodged itself across a bridged overpass, so basically no one could get through. The accident had just happened so there were only about 50 cars between us and the carnage. Now, I was sitting there in dead-locked traffic thinking, "Thank God we didn't leave 10 minutes earlier, we could have been in that accident!"
10 minutes and approximately 3,000 questions from Jack later I was thinking "OH MY GOD PLEASE CLEAR THESE BODIES AND CRUMPLED CAR PARTS AWAY FASTER!" (It's a clear demonstration of how quickly parental optimism can turn into wretched, karma-ruining desperation. IT HAPPENS TO ALL OF US.)
Then several good things happened, of which I credit this gorgeous state entirely: Several police cars (Dukes Of Hazzard, muscle-type cop cars) sped by our basically parked car on the wide, grassy shoulders...that's right, SHOULDERS. I would estimate that at least 15 amazingly-matchbox-car-like vehicles sped by either side of us blowing up grass and gravel in their wakes, causing my 4-year old son to practically pee in his seat. Only moments later a police officer actually parked next to us on the shoulder and walked to the 18-wheeler ahead of us to talk to the driver. As he was coming back to his cruiser, he spotted Jack shrieking excitedly out of his window and came over to inform me that a) no one was hurt in the accident ahead, and b) my son is extremely loud.
Once Jack recovered from his near-cop-experience, I noticed that people were actually maneuvering their cars around to drive back West on the shoulder. Now, we are on the East-bound side of a large highway. They were just driving the wrong way down the shoulder! I watched, incredulously, explaining to Jack that those people were clearly idiots.
Fast-forward 4 minutes and I am maneuvering my car around to drive backwards up the highway. Apparently a road-block had been set up behind us and we were allowed to drive the wrong way on the highway and up an ENTRANCE ramp, with the blessing of a North Carolina State Trooper, to take a rural detour route. The entire time that I am driving THE WRONG WAY down the grassy shoulder, Jack is screaming, "LOOK OUT! WE'RE THE POLICE!!!" I was half-expecting him to throw in "m*therf*ckers!" a la Samuel Jackson. Thankfully he didn't. Or else I was just too deafened by his screams to actually hear it.
Needless to say, we eventually made our way to VA, MD, DE, and NJ and had a fantastic time with our satellite families. The ride home was unfortunately (depending on how you look at it) without incident, and all of us have taken a solemn vow never to drive anywhere further than two-hours away ever again.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Overheard
Me, making amazing ice cream treats: The only way this sundae could get any better was if there was a hot, hot...
Dan: Uh oh
Me: ...blondie underneath it.
Dan: Oh. Haha, I thought you were going to say something else.
Me: like "a hot, hot, Robert Pattinson underneath it?"
Dan: Something along those lines.
Dan: Uh oh
Me: ...blondie underneath it.
Dan: Oh. Haha, I thought you were going to say something else.
Me: like "a hot, hot, Robert Pattinson underneath it?"
Dan: Something along those lines.
Friday, April 30, 2010
That Ha-Ha Moment
It was a momentous night for us here in Tarkland. Jack cracked his first off-the-cuff, non-coached joke. (It was brilliant, and corny as hell...literally.)
We were eating dinner when Jack accidentally dropped his cob of corn on the floor.
Stanley immediately rushed to the rescue.
"My cor-in!" screamed Jack.
Dan was able to assuage him with promises of another cob, and Jack calmed down and turned to watch Stanley nibbling away on the rogue cob.
"Stanley!" he said, "You are a real corn dog!"
We were eating dinner when Jack accidentally dropped his cob of corn on the floor.
Stanley immediately rushed to the rescue.
"My cor-in!" screamed Jack.
Dan was able to assuage him with promises of another cob, and Jack calmed down and turned to watch Stanley nibbling away on the rogue cob.
"Stanley!" he said, "You are a real corn dog!"
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mama's Night Out
I periodically get together with a few of my old co-workers (and by "old" I mean me; they are 28) and we have dinner and drinks at our favorite Mexican place. I look forward to these evenings, because they don't occur often (it takes a lot of planning), and they are invariably hilarious.
Last night did not disappoint, and as I arrived home, full of enchiladas and bonhomie, I realized that I had missed a SCENE here. Instantly I was excited; both to have avoided the SCENE and also to hear Dan's recounting of said SCENE (he is a very animated storyteller).
Apparently, things got a little out of control after I departed. My aunt and uncle had stopped by to visit, and Jack, like a shark sensing that his weaker prey (Dan) had become preoccupied, had decided to go in for the figurative kill...and jump ship. Evidently he snuck outside while the uncle was on his cell phone on the front porch; Dan assumed that uncle was watching Jack, and uncle assumed that Dan had given Jack permission to flee the vicinity...which he did with great speed for someone who is usually SO SLOW TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.
After awhile Dan noticed that the uncle was back inside but Jack was not, so he inquired as to Jack's whereabouts. The uncle, looking confused, said, "Oh, he left...didn't you know?" The uncle leans over to peer out of a window. "Yeah, see? There he goes."
Dan runs to the window to see Jack entering our neighbor's house.
According to our neighbor, Jack had apparently strolled over, noticed a package on their porch, rang the doorbell and offered the package, and barged right in as if he were invited. This awesome neighbor, who is himself saddled with two kids while his wife is traveling for work, graciously (and unquestioningly) accepted Jack's self-invite and, until Dan's arrival, had been waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. (He is a more seasoned, and therefor much wiser parent than the two idiots that live here.)
Eventually Jack was successfully extracted and returned home, and promptly pajama-ed. I got here just in time to tell him goodnight and then hear this wonderful story. It was like icing on my cake.
Last night did not disappoint, and as I arrived home, full of enchiladas and bonhomie, I realized that I had missed a SCENE here. Instantly I was excited; both to have avoided the SCENE and also to hear Dan's recounting of said SCENE (he is a very animated storyteller).
Apparently, things got a little out of control after I departed. My aunt and uncle had stopped by to visit, and Jack, like a shark sensing that his weaker prey (Dan) had become preoccupied, had decided to go in for the figurative kill...and jump ship. Evidently he snuck outside while the uncle was on his cell phone on the front porch; Dan assumed that uncle was watching Jack, and uncle assumed that Dan had given Jack permission to flee the vicinity...which he did with great speed for someone who is usually SO SLOW TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.
After awhile Dan noticed that the uncle was back inside but Jack was not, so he inquired as to Jack's whereabouts. The uncle, looking confused, said, "Oh, he left...didn't you know?" The uncle leans over to peer out of a window. "Yeah, see? There he goes."
Dan runs to the window to see Jack entering our neighbor's house.
According to our neighbor, Jack had apparently strolled over, noticed a package on their porch, rang the doorbell and offered the package, and barged right in as if he were invited. This awesome neighbor, who is himself saddled with two kids while his wife is traveling for work, graciously (and unquestioningly) accepted Jack's self-invite and, until Dan's arrival, had been waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. (He is a more seasoned, and therefor much wiser parent than the two idiots that live here.)
Eventually Jack was successfully extracted and returned home, and promptly pajama-ed. I got here just in time to tell him goodnight and then hear this wonderful story. It was like icing on my cake.
Overheard
Jack: Daddy, can I go outside and play?
Dan: No, we're going to sit down for dinner soon.
Jack: But I want to feel the gentle breeze on my face!!
Dan: No, we're going to sit down for dinner soon.
Jack: But I want to feel the gentle breeze on my face!!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Motion in the Ocean
Jack has a very distinct walk. In fact, calling it a walk is a little misleading, because out of all of the ways that he propels his Pinocchio-like body forward, hardly any of them constitute what one normally considers a "walk." In fact, when you first see Jack approaching, you would probably think: "Oooh, a very strange child is coming towards me." And you'd be right.
Ever since he began walking, at 11 months, he was a tip-toer. He gamboled around on the tips of his feet until around 2 when he finally began to engage a gear other than Weird. Now he lopes, he scoots, he bounces, he twirls, but he rarely ever just walks. This is adorable until you really need to go somewhere, OR you are in public trying to avoid stares. (As you can guess, the latter is an impossibility for any member of this family--unless they are in a room full of deaf and blind folks.)
Jack is starting T-Ball in a few weeks, and I've been trying to coach him on running. When Jack tries to run he looks like a large, white tumbleweed being blown by a haphazard wind. I made the mistake of explaining, as my soccer coach did, the idea of "cheek-to-cheek" running. The words had barely escaped my lips when I realized what a fatal error I had made. Jack was rapidly tapping both of his cheeks (the face ones) and bouncing in place. As I tried to explain that you also have cheeks on your rear, Jack insisted on seeing them.
"You know what they look like," I told him. "There's a crack between them!"
"CRACK!" he squealed. "I need to check this out."
So inside we went, to use the bathroom mirror so that I could demonstrate to Jack that he did indeed have two separate "cheeks" on his backside.
Eager to get him back outside lest this anatomy lesson stray to darker subjects, I carried him through the house, explaining on the way that if you pumped your arms, moving one hand from your face cheek to your rear cheek, as you ran, you could go faster.
Now picture in your mind a large-headed, very verbal young boy trying to implement my directions of cheek-to-cheek running. Got it? I guarantee you what I witnessed was 53x funnier than that. Needless to say we didn't actually get to any running at all, but we did achieve our signature fail-laugh, which is what I'm usually after anyway.
Ever since he began walking, at 11 months, he was a tip-toer. He gamboled around on the tips of his feet until around 2 when he finally began to engage a gear other than Weird. Now he lopes, he scoots, he bounces, he twirls, but he rarely ever just walks. This is adorable until you really need to go somewhere, OR you are in public trying to avoid stares. (As you can guess, the latter is an impossibility for any member of this family--unless they are in a room full of deaf and blind folks.)
Jack is starting T-Ball in a few weeks, and I've been trying to coach him on running. When Jack tries to run he looks like a large, white tumbleweed being blown by a haphazard wind. I made the mistake of explaining, as my soccer coach did, the idea of "cheek-to-cheek" running. The words had barely escaped my lips when I realized what a fatal error I had made. Jack was rapidly tapping both of his cheeks (the face ones) and bouncing in place. As I tried to explain that you also have cheeks on your rear, Jack insisted on seeing them.
"You know what they look like," I told him. "There's a crack between them!"
"CRACK!" he squealed. "I need to check this out."
So inside we went, to use the bathroom mirror so that I could demonstrate to Jack that he did indeed have two separate "cheeks" on his backside.
Eager to get him back outside lest this anatomy lesson stray to darker subjects, I carried him through the house, explaining on the way that if you pumped your arms, moving one hand from your face cheek to your rear cheek, as you ran, you could go faster.
Now picture in your mind a large-headed, very verbal young boy trying to implement my directions of cheek-to-cheek running. Got it? I guarantee you what I witnessed was 53x funnier than that. Needless to say we didn't actually get to any running at all, but we did achieve our signature fail-laugh, which is what I'm usually after anyway.
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