Notes to self (or Resolutions I)

• Turn the bathroom light on before you put on your makeup. The "flattering, natural light" of your bathroom does not occur anywhere else in the outside world. You need to wear more.
  
  
• Stop believing that THIS will be the time that the ice-dispenser does not shoot ice-shards all over the floor/your bare feet. It isn't, no matter how snugly you hold your cup against the dispensing tube. Open the freakin' door to get your ice.
  
  
• Stop muttering, "Someone blah blah blah" while cleaning up other people's messes. You sound like an old woman. The people you live with are little pigs. Deal with it.
  
  
• Stop shrieking when you see a silverfish. They are harmless, despite the fact that they look like creepy, Pan's-Labyrinth, made-of-devil-dust creatures...that move to fast for human eyes...and magically reproduce...*gag*
  
  
• Take the Pearl Jam off of your iPod already and quit moaning every time one of their songs comes on...YOUR iPOD.
  
  
• Stop telling the story about how you had food poisoning in college...too many people have heard that already. You're getting an unfortunate reputation.
  
  
• Limit your use of the word "legit." I know that it's fun, but it's also legit overused.
  
  

...and I quote...

These are all from Jack:

"My family is the worst!"

"I love my family!"

"Happy Christmas everybody! Did you hear me?! I SAID HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

"You gotta come see this thing--it's in the toilet."

"I'm re-decorating my play room. With stickers."

"I did not draw on that window with crayon...I think maybe a spider did it."

Hate Mail

• Dear "10-Day Top Coat": YOU ARE A LIAR. If anything you should call yourself "4-Hour Top Coat." Thanks for nothing, Dicknose. Love, Lauren
  
  
• Dear Lonely People: Have some kids. You will never be alone again, not even to poop. Love, Lauren
  
  
• Dear Tom Cruise: Your teeth do not line up with the rest of your face. Please stay off of my tv. Love, Lauren
  
  
• Dear Living Room Carpet: Your weird colors wreak havoc with my poor ability to distinguish colors, and therefor are the perfect camoflauge for unpleasant carpet mines (like raisins, and poop, and every small, sharp toy my son owns). Thanks for NOTHING! Love, Lauren
  
  
• Dear Lauren, please ease up on the CAPS. You are already too shouty. And quit saying "thanks for nothing"...it has lost all meaning at this point. Love, Yourself
  
  
• Dear Self: THANKS FOR NOTHING! Love, Lauren
  
  

Genes

When one of our children does something brilliant, Dan and I try to determine who contributed the genes responsible for it, and invariably do not agree. When the kids do something stupid or annoying, we argue over who's lame genes are responsible for that behavior, and usually end up agreeing way faster than you would imagine. For instance, tonight the baby wanted to get out of her high chair while we were eating dinner, and rather than gesture or communicate clearly that she had had enough wonderful family-togetherness-over-a-meal, she just waved her arms repetitively and made awkward squawking noises for about 20 minutes without faltering until we finally let her out of her TERRIBLE FOOD PRISON.

I commented pretty much that exact sentiment to Dan, who sarcastically remarked that only one other member of this family gets her way by annoying everyone into it.

He must be talking about Dinah.

I am charmed...

When you tell me that you could watch me laugh for hours. (It did not escape my attention that you used the word "watch" and not "listen.")

When you let my entire family come to your house and stay for DAYS and never complain once about our crap all over the place or how much food (and alcohol) we consume.

When you ride behind me on a four-wheeler, even though I JUST learned how to drive, and don't scream in my ear even once.

When you humor me and participate in my funniest-swear-word-making contest, and even let me win...Dicknose.

When you make jokes about certain body-parts that you had removed like it's no big deal.

When you offer me a chubby, sweet-tasting cheek everytime I use the word "kiss," even if it's not in the context of me offering you one. (As in: You can kiss my ass if you think I'm going to do these dishes. Mwa!)

When you make a Barbie fingernail-polish-digital-printer! It prints on your nails!!! Bravo Mattel!!!

When you disregard my blatant (and sometimes confusing) overuse of quotation marks...it makes me "feel" terrific.

I Got Parole, Bitch!

Recently Sydney has taken a brief hiatus from her endeavor towards becoming the world's smallest eating champion in order to learn how to scale furniture. See, up until now we had been using the furniture as a make-shift fence to trap her into a corner of our family room. In the last few days she has come to the realization that she is tall enough and strong enough to scale said furniture and escape into the wild that is the rest of our house. (I should have bought electrified furniture. So dumb.)

Her situation is not unlike that of a life-long felon who has recently been released from prison. Instead of immediately finding the nearest whore house, she makes a bee-line straight towards our trashcan. Instead of hitting up an old dealer or bookie, she compulsively sprints to the dog's food bowls. I am like her parole officer...jaded, disillusioned, and wishing I was drunk. I chase her around fruitlessly, trying to make her see the error of her ways, threatening her with re-incarceration, but she takes no heed. She merely laughs like a maniac (a maniac who is totally jacked-up on dog kibble). She's an outlaw alright. Didn't you know? The recidivism rate among 14-month old convicts is staggering. If you see one, RUN.

Overheard

Dan, changing Sydney's diaper: "Keep your hands off of your lady parts!"

Dan, trying to feed both children: "This is becoming less fun for me!"

Jack, over Sydney's screeching: "Do you want to keep this baby?"

Jack, sniffling: "This booger is like a giant like a T-Rex in my nose."

Co-worker, on being proselytized to at work: "He's a great guy, but he is jacked up on Jesus."