Stiff Competition

Myke and I have decided to start playing racquetball together a of couple nights a week.  This will accomplish two goals: Myke will actually have a form of exercise besides typing and we will have some alone time without our cranky toddler.  Wearing plastic goggles and smacking a rubber ball at a wall might not be romantic for some people, but it’s free babysitting and that’s worth a lot to me.  Babysitters are dadgum expensive.  I was only paid 2¢ per hour when I was a young lassie but kids these days demand real money.  It’s nearly minimum wage.  How absurd!  You can understand my attraction to the free child watch at the YMCA.

We started our racquetball dates this week and I am terrible at the game.  In fact, I’m so terrible I don’t think you can categorize what I’m doing as “playing racquetball.”  I mostly dart around like a dog chasing a laser pointer.  A dog with a racquet in his paw.  And plastic goggles obstructing his vision.  Michael is not athletic but somehow he excels at racquetball.  He’s quite good.  (Well, I think he’s good but I’m comparing his skills to mine; he may actually suck and I would never know.)  The arrangement is working out well for Myke because not only does he win every game, but he gets to witness his wife flailing around like a dervish. 

By the end of the evening we both reek of body odor and have aching joints from all the racquet-swinging.

 

Romantic?  Oh, yeah.

You've Got to be Kidding Me

Hi, have we met?  I’m the one who hates waking up early.  This is precisely the reason that I am full of rage this morning.

I am in the Young Women’s Presidency in our ward.  This means that once in a while I have to cover for the President at meetings and such.  This morning was one of those occasions.  She asked me to fill in for her at a meeting this morning; a meeting that began at 7:30 AM.  The only problem with this, besides the obscene hour at which it begins, is that Michael also attends this meeting for his calling.  That meant finding something to do with Eva.  My friend graciously agreed to let me drop Eva at her house on our way to the meeting.

I awoke at 6 this morning in order to get everyone ready on time.  6 o’clock on a Sunday.  It’s preposterous!  I dragged my lazy arse out of bed, I showered even though it meant sacrificing sleep time.  I actually combed my hair so I wouldn’t look like the disgusting ape that I really am. I had Myke dress Eva and he let her choose a dress that is way too short for her.  I didn’t even scold the two of them for embarrassing me.  I was pleasant and on time.  I was feeling accomplished.

We drove to my friend’s house at 7:20 and I raced to her door so we wouldn't be late for our meeting.  I knocked.  No answer.  I rang the doorbell.  No answer.  I rang the doorbell again.  No answer.  I checked my watch.  7:25.  Crap!

Now what?  Do I kick open the door?  Do I simultaneously knock and ring the bell over and over until she answers?  Do I break the glass like they do on TV and reach my hand in to unlock the deadbolt?  Do I just walk away and miss the meeting like a chump?

Chump it is.

I dropped Myke off at the church and came home to seethe.  Not only do I look like a nincompoop for missing the meeting, I had to wake up at 6 for nothing.  ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING!         STUPID!          YOU’RE SO STUPID!

Since the trauma of the morning is still fresh in my mind, I’m considering dropping this friend.  If you can’t get up early and be miserable with me on a beautiful Sunday morning, I don’t need you. 

Except that I do.  She’s pretty great.

No recourse.  Dang it.

Instincts

Do you want to hear something gross?  Of course you do.  You’re disgusting.

I caught this little princess eating her boogers yesterday:

 

I was horrified.  Through my dry-heaving I calmly told her not to eat her boogers.  I said it’s vile and no one will love her anymore if she continues to nosh on her mucus kibbles.  I also told her that when we jam our fingers into our nostrils and swirl them around in search of nuggets, it’s called “Digging for Gold.”  And it’s completely unacceptable and sordid behavior.

This only happened because of my sister.  She recently posted on her blog about her gremlins eating their boogers during their family camping trip.  As I was reading her post, I became nauseated and thought, “Her kids are such heathens.  I’m so glad that Eva will never crave boogers.”  And, BOOM!  Eva craves boogers.  I blame you, Rachel, and your disgusting offspring for telepathically giving my sweet, perfect daughter sickening ideas.

Is this an instinct that kids are born with?  Is it always there, just waiting to manifest itself in the very moment you think your kid is immune to the grossest of all behavior?  I’m disturbed by this.  I’ve always looked down on booger-eaters.  Even as a child I recognized it as repulsive.  I mean, I did partake of a few boogers in my day…just to make sure I was right about how gross it is…and I was right.  I’m appalled that my beautiful angel is a lowly booger-eater.  I may never recover from this.

The worst part is that I told Michael she was eating her boogers and he replied with an indifferent, “Well, that’s what kids do.  I used to eat my boogers all the time.”  What?!  ALL THE TIME?  I wish Michael would have divulged his past propensity for the booger-buffet before I agreed to marry him.  Now he’s passed on his mutated gene to our daughter and there’s nothing I can do about it.  I have to overlook my family of gross-o’s and keep loving them anyway.  Do you know how many things I already overlook with those two?  I don’t know how many more items can be added to my list.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to put on a jacket.  There’s a bit of a cool breeze up here on my high horse.

Intrusion

My lack of communication lately can be traced to our recent trip to Idaho to see family.  I refuse to do anything that can be construed as work while I'm away from home.  Blogging fits into that category.  I was set to recap our trip as soon as we arrived back at our abode, but my computer wouldn't turn on.  It's now been nearly a week and I feel naked and sad without my computer.  Myke has let me commandeer his and was even kind enough to copy my hard drive onto his desktop so I could access all of my files.  But I feel weird using his computer.  It feels like an invasion of privacy.  Even though we have no secrets from each other (except for the ones I keep) I instantly feel like I'm nosing around where I shouldn't when I sit down in front of his monitors.  It's as if those glowing rectangular spies are logging my every move and recording my activity.  I don't like it.  The funny thing is that I completely do not mind when Michael uses my computer.  It doesn't bother me at all but I still get all first-date awkward when he says I'm welcome to poke around on his machine.

Usually Myke would have my computer fixed within a few hours but it's still under warranty so we have to wait for Dell to come through with the new parts.  And so I wait.  It's been long enough now that I'm ignoring my discomfort and using my husband's computer nearly everyday.  I'm keeping track of my usage so I can confess everything once he returns from work.  "I only went to a couple websites, checked our bank account, read all of your emails, and looked in every one of your folders.  No biggie."  It's absurd how much of an inconvenience it is to lose a computer.  

We had a great time visiting family.  It was very relaxed and Myke's work didn't bother him at all.  Imagine having a job where they respect your vacation time.  It's amazing!  (I don't know if I mentioned he's changed jobs but he did.  And his new place of employment is awesome.)  But that is neither here nor there.  

Idaho.  We had a wonderful 4th of July, complete with a parade and fireworks.  Eva had a great time at the parade wandering off into large crowds of people instead of watching the floats.  It was annoying to keep dashing after her so I just let Myke do it and pretended I was too engrossed in the parade to notice our roamer.  This strategy worked out well for me.  

At the parade:

And having fun at the fireworks:

We had so much fun that Eva fell asleep the moment her fanny hit her car seat:

We also made several trips to Reed's Dairy for ice cream:

And had a great time at Myke's cousin's house for an afternoon gathering:

And just like that the week was over and we had to endure a long car ride home.  But thankfully Eva loves media.  Cinderella, anyone?  How about 7 times in a row?

It was so nice to see everyone and be home.  I look forward to Christmas!