Sunday, August 19, 2007
Toilette Etiquette
These are my 5-year-old son's rules of conduct for the disposal of human waste:
1. If you pee, there is no need to flush.
2. If you poop, theoretically, you should flush, if you remember (and in his case, he rarely does because the majority of the time he is peeing and, therefore, not getting into the habit of flushing).
First thing this morning we had an argument about flushing the toilet after he peed.
"You know, Vaughn, you should flush the toilet every time you go to the bathroom, even when you pee."
Vaughn crosses his arms and settles into a defiant stance, stocky little legs hip width apart, brow furrowed, bottom lip Angie Jolie'esqe.
"Vaughn, go flush the toilet."
"No."
"Go flush the toilet."
"No."
"GO FLUSH THE TOILET!"
"No."
Good Lord, I can't believe he's choosing this to rebel against.
"Do you need a time out?"
"No."
"Then go flush the toilet."
"Hrmph!" Off he goes to do the evidently distasteful deed of flushing his pee.
Is this some kind of Freudian thing, some marking of territory or something? As I recall my nephews were the same way. In their whole childhood years, I don't recall ever seeing a "fresh bowl" when they visited us, the concept of clear toilet water evidently being abhorrent to them.
To his credit, though, I have managed, for the most part, to train Vaughn to put the seat down, so at least then when I go to the bathroom I don't fall butt first into the disintegrating, unusually large turd floating in the toilet bowl that he forgot to flush, not to mention the leftover pee he, by principle, didn't flush. His future wife can thank me later.
1. If you pee, there is no need to flush.
2. If you poop, theoretically, you should flush, if you remember (and in his case, he rarely does because the majority of the time he is peeing and, therefore, not getting into the habit of flushing).
First thing this morning we had an argument about flushing the toilet after he peed.
"You know, Vaughn, you should flush the toilet every time you go to the bathroom, even when you pee."
Vaughn crosses his arms and settles into a defiant stance, stocky little legs hip width apart, brow furrowed, bottom lip Angie Jolie'esqe.
"Vaughn, go flush the toilet."
"No."
"Go flush the toilet."
"No."
"GO FLUSH THE TOILET!"
"No."
Good Lord, I can't believe he's choosing this to rebel against.
"Do you need a time out?"
"No."
"Then go flush the toilet."
"Hrmph!" Off he goes to do the evidently distasteful deed of flushing his pee.
Is this some kind of Freudian thing, some marking of territory or something? As I recall my nephews were the same way. In their whole childhood years, I don't recall ever seeing a "fresh bowl" when they visited us, the concept of clear toilet water evidently being abhorrent to them.
To his credit, though, I have managed, for the most part, to train Vaughn to put the seat down, so at least then when I go to the bathroom I don't fall butt first into the disintegrating, unusually large turd floating in the toilet bowl that he forgot to flush, not to mention the leftover pee he, by principle, didn't flush. His future wife can thank me later.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Want to Drink Something Weird?
(click on link for recipe. Trust me. It is really good.)
Despite my aversion to the Californian mascot, I, like a good mother, smashed avocados up with bananas and stuffed this into my unsuspecting 6-month-old's mouth. According to my make-your-own-baby-food-for-absolutely-no-logical-reason-because-regardless-of-what-you-feed-them-at-1-when-your-child-turns-3-they-will-only-want-to-eat-hotdogs-and-gummybears book, avocadoes are an excellent source of all kinds of vitamins and healthy fats--"something that is essential to your child's growth now because once they get a taste of cupcakes at preschool, they will preternaturally detect and refuse to eat anything with a trace of nutrients forever after." Once my brother David saw me smashing up this concoction of avocado and banana and shared his disgust at what an unnatural combination this was.
"You're going to give him that?!"
"Hey, he doesn't know any different; he's a baby! He'll eat anything. He has nothing to compare it to." Oh to live those days again. I, of course, never did taste test this seemingly mutant mix because--I hate anything green, especially avocados...and peas...and limabeans...and asparagus...and uncooked tomatoes (even though they're not green), black-eyed peas (largely because it contains the word peas. I have a particular psychological aversion to peas), etc.
Anyway, much to my delight, the last time we were at the store, Vaughn suggested we buy some avocados. Since he's been anti-anything-healthy for the last 2 years or so, I had not been buying avocados. I know that's not an excuse, but...I can't come up with anything better. In my persistent goal to better myself and heal some of the psychological scars of my childhood, I thought it wouldn't hurt to try making an avocado shake and trying it. It could be one less green thing that I didn't hate. Well, one more vegetable/fruit that carries a caveat: Must be eaten in the form of a shake. I still hate guacamole.
I started searching the Internet for the perfect avocado shake recipe and found a Brazilian version and an Indonesian version. Indonesia gets points for having chocolate milk in it, so "Alpokat" it is.
Vaughn was very excited about the whole idea and couldn't wait for the final product. This I did taste test, and I admit, it was amazingly scrumptious. I proudly presented my creation to Vaughn, who looked at it suspciously, took a sniff, and declared, "Ewwwwwww."
What?
"What do you mean 'ewwww?' You haven't even taken a taste."
(in whinese) "It has chocolate."
"Yes, so...? That makes it that much better. You like chocolate and you like avocados. It's a win-win!"
"I don't like it."
"You haven't even tasted it! Take a taste. It's reeallyyyy goooood. If you don't drink it, I will. Taste it!"
Takes the minutest of sips. "Ewwwww. I don't like it." Then cheerily, "You can have it!"
Now I am morally outraged. "You said you liked avocado shakes!"
"It didn't have chocolate in it." Evidently, there are some things that my son thinks don't go good with chocolate. I, however, am not of the same opinion. I think I might even eat peas if they were chocolate coated. (Make note: Search Internet for chocolate coated peas.)
"So, did it have like apples and bananas in it?" (the Brazilian version)
"Uh-huh. I want that shake. Make that shake." Yeah, in your dreams, Buddy. In...your...dreams.
I'm making the Brazilian avocado shake tomorrow.
Our friend The Analyst likes to constantly challenge his palate with unusual tastes and textures. So it was that Vaughn was introduced to the avocado shake. Dave, Vaughn, and The Analyst went out to eat and ordered this drink, which, surprisingly, Vaughn evidently asked to sample, and even more surprising, actually liked. As disgusting as this drink sounded, Dave said it didn't taste anything like avocado.
I am not fond of avocados, staying true to my dad's assertion that I hate anything green, a little factoid he insisted on sharing, to my utter mortification, every time we were guests at someone's house. Of course, he waited until we were sitting at the table with a dish load of peas in front of us before he delicately (and, in his mind, humorously) informed our hosts of this. Nothing like a good guffaw at the expense of your children.
I am not fond of avocados, staying true to my dad's assertion that I hate anything green, a little factoid he insisted on sharing, to my utter mortification, every time we were guests at someone's house. Of course, he waited until we were sitting at the table with a dish load of peas in front of us before he delicately (and, in his mind, humorously) informed our hosts of this. Nothing like a good guffaw at the expense of your children.
Despite my aversion to the Californian mascot, I, like a good mother, smashed avocados up with bananas and stuffed this into my unsuspecting 6-month-old's mouth. According to my make-your-own-baby-food-for-absolutely-no-logical-reason-because-regardless-of-what-you-feed-them-at-1-when-your-child-turns-3-they-will-only-want-to-eat-hotdogs-and-gummybears book, avocadoes are an excellent source of all kinds of vitamins and healthy fats--"something that is essential to your child's growth now because once they get a taste of cupcakes at preschool, they will preternaturally detect and refuse to eat anything with a trace of nutrients forever after." Once my brother David saw me smashing up this concoction of avocado and banana and shared his disgust at what an unnatural combination this was.
"You're going to give him that?!"
"Hey, he doesn't know any different; he's a baby! He'll eat anything. He has nothing to compare it to." Oh to live those days again. I, of course, never did taste test this seemingly mutant mix because--I hate anything green, especially avocados...and peas...and limabeans...and asparagus...and uncooked tomatoes (even though they're not green), black-eyed peas (largely because it contains the word peas. I have a particular psychological aversion to peas), etc.
Anyway, much to my delight, the last time we were at the store, Vaughn suggested we buy some avocados. Since he's been anti-anything-healthy for the last 2 years or so, I had not been buying avocados. I know that's not an excuse, but...I can't come up with anything better. In my persistent goal to better myself and heal some of the psychological scars of my childhood, I thought it wouldn't hurt to try making an avocado shake and trying it. It could be one less green thing that I didn't hate. Well, one more vegetable/fruit that carries a caveat: Must be eaten in the form of a shake. I still hate guacamole.
I started searching the Internet for the perfect avocado shake recipe and found a Brazilian version and an Indonesian version. Indonesia gets points for having chocolate milk in it, so "Alpokat" it is.
Vaughn was very excited about the whole idea and couldn't wait for the final product. This I did taste test, and I admit, it was amazingly scrumptious. I proudly presented my creation to Vaughn, who looked at it suspciously, took a sniff, and declared, "Ewwwwwww."
What?
"What do you mean 'ewwww?' You haven't even taken a taste."
(in whinese) "It has chocolate."
"Yes, so...? That makes it that much better. You like chocolate and you like avocados. It's a win-win!"
"I don't like it."
"You haven't even tasted it! Take a taste. It's reeallyyyy goooood. If you don't drink it, I will. Taste it!"
Takes the minutest of sips. "Ewwwww. I don't like it." Then cheerily, "You can have it!"
Now I am morally outraged. "You said you liked avocado shakes!"
"It didn't have chocolate in it." Evidently, there are some things that my son thinks don't go good with chocolate. I, however, am not of the same opinion. I think I might even eat peas if they were chocolate coated. (Make note: Search Internet for chocolate coated peas.)
"So, did it have like apples and bananas in it?" (the Brazilian version)
"Uh-huh. I want that shake. Make that shake." Yeah, in your dreams, Buddy. In...your...dreams.
I'm making the Brazilian avocado shake tomorrow.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Scarily Annoying
Vaughn is currently on this kick of "scaring" people. This generally involves jumping out of some undisclosed spot and screaming "Boo!" every 5 minutes or so. He then proceeds to interrogate his latest victim--"Did I scare ya?"
Now this is a tricky question. If I say, "No," which is generally the case--the heavy breathing and precipitant giggling are usually a dead give away, that and the fact that he's usually in plain sight--then I know he will be that much more determined to increase his efforts, which means this same scenario repeats itself over and over again every 3 minutes.
However, if I say, "Yes," he then becomes suspicious and questions my sincerity. (Evidently, he is not fully confident in his frightening abilities.) "Are you lying?" Suffice it to say, I now have the veracity of a crack whore when it comes to this subject--"Noooo. You really scared me." This at least carries with it the possibility that the next attempt will not be for another 5 minutes or so. Of course, often I am not convincing enough in my performance, at which point he screams, "You're lying!!!" and promptly starts searching for the site of his next attack.
Now this is a tricky question. If I say, "No," which is generally the case--the heavy breathing and precipitant giggling are usually a dead give away, that and the fact that he's usually in plain sight--then I know he will be that much more determined to increase his efforts, which means this same scenario repeats itself over and over again every 3 minutes.
However, if I say, "Yes," he then becomes suspicious and questions my sincerity. (Evidently, he is not fully confident in his frightening abilities.) "Are you lying?" Suffice it to say, I now have the veracity of a crack whore when it comes to this subject--"Noooo. You really scared me." This at least carries with it the possibility that the next attempt will not be for another 5 minutes or so. Of course, often I am not convincing enough in my performance, at which point he screams, "You're lying!!!" and promptly starts searching for the site of his next attack.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
For the Love of Dickens
I so long for a good book to read I could scream. I cannot believe the dearth of readable modern material. To be perfectly honest, though, I am judging this based on a narrow criteria: I must be able to get it from the library--now. I guess that's probably not a good guide as to the availability of fine literature. If I can get it from the library immediately, I suppose that by itself should indicate something, but I'm too cheap to go out and buy a recomended book, and based on my present experience, perhaps rightly so.
My latest fatality is "Jinx." Sounded promising for a summertime read. I finally manage to squirrel away some Vaughn-free time and hunker down to what I believe is going to be some good reading (which is mystifying given in the last 2 weeks I have returned 10 books, applying my 50-page rule, not finishing one. What can I say? I am an optomist. Despite what Dave says, damnit, I do have hope for the future, just not confidence in or great love of humanity.)
The first page is something like a very short poem, one of those poems that doesn't rhyme but is a stream of conciousness, or unconciousness, depending on how you look at it. I figure this is the prologue. However, the prologue then leads into 10 more "prologue poems," each from a different character's perspective, characters that I'm having a hard time keeping track of because they're only referred to in their poems. Now, I know I have short-term memory problems, but this is reaching "50-First-Dates" proportions when on page 6 (the average page being largely empty except for a 10-line widely margined paragraph) I'm already turning back to previous pages to try and figure out who Grace and Connie are. I have gotten far enough in the book, though, to be introduced to the obligatory gay character, who is Grace, Connie, Jen, or Serena--I can't remember which.
Gays are guessed to make up anywhere from 1-10% of society's population, yet this number is inversed in the literary world, with gays making up 99.9% of literary fictional society. Is there some kind of fictional quota that I'm unaware of? Is this something taught in Writing 101? You can't even win a "Children's Book Award" without having at least one major character who is gay. It's a wonder Harry Potter books are so successful. As far as I'm aware, no major character is gay. Maybe that's in the last book--Hermione ends up coming out of the closet. She is a witch, after all. I think you have to be a card-carrying Wiccan to be considered a lesbian, so she's just one step away. Wait...I bet it's Neville!!!
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is another book I'm too cheap to buy, even though after reading book 6 I was fantasizing flying to England and personally camping out on JK Rowling's lawn so I could rummage through her garbage, desparately seeking book 7's rough draft castoffs for my next fix.
Back to "Jinx," after reading the first 10 pages or so and feeling thoroughly disoriented, I decided to read the jacket synopsis to help ground me. I don't generally read book jackets because I like to be suprised or at least have a vague ignorance of the ending until I finish reading the book. Having read "Jinx's" book cover, I discover that "Jinx" is a "verse" novel for teens. Now, I get how a verse novel could be extremely popular with the "Y" generation, what with them having been weaned on MTV and videogames, possessing the attention span of a gnat, and the fact that 3/4 of them are virtually illiterate. Assuming they will actually sit down to read a book, once having done so, you have exactly 2.5 seconds to reach them before some sparkling object catches their attention.
But really, come on, "verse" novel??? Admittedly, I'm not an English grad, but isn't "verse" novel just a sophisticated way of saying the writer was just too darn lazy to actually outline a plot and develop characters, much less write a full page of dialogue? (Page 42 has exactly 11 words on it.) I want to sign with this publisher. Maybe I could write a "symbol" or emoticon novel. Each page would have one symbol. Something like this:
Page 1: :-)
Page 2: ;-D
Page 3: :'-(
Page 4: >:-[
Page 5: ?:o)
Page 6: <:-O
Notice the subtleties in character, the intense emotion. Why, I'm half done!
Oh, but you ask, aren't you afraid that you've just offended any potential Gen Y reader with your insensitive observations of their innate generational idiosyncrasies? Nah, they wandered off to text someone in the first paragraph.
My latest fatality is "Jinx." Sounded promising for a summertime read. I finally manage to squirrel away some Vaughn-free time and hunker down to what I believe is going to be some good reading (which is mystifying given in the last 2 weeks I have returned 10 books, applying my 50-page rule, not finishing one. What can I say? I am an optomist. Despite what Dave says, damnit, I do have hope for the future, just not confidence in or great love of humanity.)
The first page is something like a very short poem, one of those poems that doesn't rhyme but is a stream of conciousness, or unconciousness, depending on how you look at it. I figure this is the prologue. However, the prologue then leads into 10 more "prologue poems," each from a different character's perspective, characters that I'm having a hard time keeping track of because they're only referred to in their poems. Now, I know I have short-term memory problems, but this is reaching "50-First-Dates" proportions when on page 6 (the average page being largely empty except for a 10-line widely margined paragraph) I'm already turning back to previous pages to try and figure out who Grace and Connie are. I have gotten far enough in the book, though, to be introduced to the obligatory gay character, who is Grace, Connie, Jen, or Serena--I can't remember which.
Gays are guessed to make up anywhere from 1-10% of society's population, yet this number is inversed in the literary world, with gays making up 99.9% of literary fictional society. Is there some kind of fictional quota that I'm unaware of? Is this something taught in Writing 101? You can't even win a "Children's Book Award" without having at least one major character who is gay. It's a wonder Harry Potter books are so successful. As far as I'm aware, no major character is gay. Maybe that's in the last book--Hermione ends up coming out of the closet. She is a witch, after all. I think you have to be a card-carrying Wiccan to be considered a lesbian, so she's just one step away. Wait...I bet it's Neville!!!
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is another book I'm too cheap to buy, even though after reading book 6 I was fantasizing flying to England and personally camping out on JK Rowling's lawn so I could rummage through her garbage, desparately seeking book 7's rough draft castoffs for my next fix.
Back to "Jinx," after reading the first 10 pages or so and feeling thoroughly disoriented, I decided to read the jacket synopsis to help ground me. I don't generally read book jackets because I like to be suprised or at least have a vague ignorance of the ending until I finish reading the book. Having read "Jinx's" book cover, I discover that "Jinx" is a "verse" novel for teens. Now, I get how a verse novel could be extremely popular with the "Y" generation, what with them having been weaned on MTV and videogames, possessing the attention span of a gnat, and the fact that 3/4 of them are virtually illiterate. Assuming they will actually sit down to read a book, once having done so, you have exactly 2.5 seconds to reach them before some sparkling object catches their attention.
But really, come on, "verse" novel??? Admittedly, I'm not an English grad, but isn't "verse" novel just a sophisticated way of saying the writer was just too darn lazy to actually outline a plot and develop characters, much less write a full page of dialogue? (Page 42 has exactly 11 words on it.) I want to sign with this publisher. Maybe I could write a "symbol" or emoticon novel. Each page would have one symbol. Something like this:
Page 1: :-)
Page 2: ;-D
Page 3: :'-(
Page 4: >:-[
Page 5: ?:o)
Page 6: <:-O
Notice the subtleties in character, the intense emotion. Why, I'm half done!
Oh, but you ask, aren't you afraid that you've just offended any potential Gen Y reader with your insensitive observations of their innate generational idiosyncrasies? Nah, they wandered off to text someone in the first paragraph.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Delimma Resolved
My in-laws have convinced me to sanitize my blog and delete any entries that might be offensive to certain relatives that might chance to stumble across it, or more likely someone that knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who might chance to alert a certain relative to the blog and the offensive material. I guess that answers the question as to how personal my public blog is going to be. Now what do I write about?
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