I'm SO Getting Botox and She's So NOT Getting a Pony

Laura and I were in the bathroom, preparing for bed. She was brushing and flossing. I was applying cream under my eyes.

Laura looked up at me and was clearly thinking about something. Then, in a very sweet, loving, helpful, and well-meaning voice, Laura began this conversation:


Laura: "Mom, is that cream for wrinkles?"

Me: "Yes."

Laura: "I have a really good idea."

Me: "What?"

Laura: "Take some of that cream and put it on the two lines that you have between your eyebrows."

Me:

Laura [looks in mirror]: "Watch when I make an angry face."

Me:

Laura: "See how I have two lines between my eyebrows?"

Me:

Laura: "You have those lines all of the time."

Me:

Laura: "If you put cream there, it might help."

Me:



For the record: While my post title and photograph suggest that I'm rushing out for an injection, I'm not at this point in time. Having said that, because I read posts around the 'sphere both blasting and praising Botox, I'll just say this: I think the decision to do any cosmetic procedure is personal. I'm not opposed to Botox, and I don't see how having a cosmetic procedure conflicts with a personal lifestyle that, for example, incorporates organic foods and Yoga. What I struggle to understand are people who don't support other people's personal choices. So, if a Botox injection, a tummy tuck, or same-gender marriage isn't for you, then don't have one. My wife, husband, other husband, and I aren't telling anyone else what to do. Heh.

And . . . Laura's so NOT getting a pony.

But . . . now I do put spackle on the lines between my eyebrows every night.

It's No Wonder I Have Nothing of Substance in My Brain These Days

Not so long ago, I fell down our stairs (well, five of them). My body made a thud as I hit the landing. Tom came running, and Laura called out from her bed.

Three weeks ago, I fell down after dropping off Laura and her friends at swim camp. Nobody saw me. When I picked them up after camp, I fell down again, in the exact same spot. That time all of the parents and kids leaving the camp saw me. At least I had helpers to pick up the contents of my purse, which had spilled all over the pavement during the fall.

Last week, I ran smack into a pole as I was leaving the grocery store. (I was walking, not driving.) A couple walking into the grocery store and Laura saw it happen. They laughed. I know. I should probably stay off of poles if I want to set a good example for my daughter.

Today I walked smack into a door frame, nose first. Tom heard the crack my nose made when it hit the door frame.


Tom: What happened?

Me: Ow, ow, ow! I walked right into the door frame and hit the bridge of my nose.

Tom: The bridge of your nose? Are you okay?

Me: It hurts! My eyes are watering!

Tom: You hit the bridge of your nose on the door frame?

Me: Yes! I’m seeing stars! Like in a cartoon!

Tom: There’s a mark on the bridge of your nose. [Editor’s Note: It’s really more of a gash. Heh.]

Me: It feels like it may be swelling, too!

Tom: Do you want me to get you some ice?

Me: No. I need to take a photo of it first to use in a blog post since I have nothing of substance in my brain these days.

Tom: How did your face get to the door before your feet anyway?

Me: I don’t even know. You’re just lucky I’m me. Otherwise, no one would believe the old “walked into a door” story and they’d think you did it. Hey! I'm going to hang on to the photos in case you ever try to leave me. They could come in handy.



I know, this photo is craptastic. I took it myself with my iPhone. If the swelling progresses or any bruising develops, I'll get a better one with my camera. Just in case . . .

Further Adventures in Texting with Laura & An Actual Conversation with AT&T

We're having further adventures with the free text message application that Laura downloaded for her iTouch. I'll share.


Laura: "Emma is at the stables and Leigh is working today."

Me: "How do you know?"

Laura: "I texted them to see if they could babysit me. I don't want to go to the grocery store with you."

Me: "Um, Laura, this is more of a general rule than a rule about texting. You can't hire babysitters for yourself."

Laura: "Oh, okay."




Now that Laura (and her friends) are texting me a bazillion times a day, I called AT&T to make sure I have the unlimited text message plan because my text messages cost money, yo.


Automated Voice: “Press 1 if your call is regarding ###-###-###. Press 2 if your call is regarding a different number. ”

Me: [Pressing 1]

Automated Voice: “Please hold for a Customer Service Representative.”

Customer Service Representative: “Can you give me your number again? We don’t have a record of the one you're calling from.”

Me: “###-###-####”

CSR: “We don’t have a record of that number in our system.”

Me: “Um. I’m talking to AT&T, aren’t I?”

CSR: “Yes, but we don’t have any record of your number.”

Me: “You send me a bill for it every month.”

CSR: “Can you give me your number again?”

Me: “###-###-####”

CSR: “###-###-####?”

Me: “Yes.”

CSR: “No, we don’t have that number in our system.”

Me: “Um. But you know that I’m calling from that number, right? I dialed 6-1-1 to reach you from that number.”

CSR: “Let me try one more time. Hold on."

Me: "Okay."

CSR: "Oh. Here it is.”

Me: “I want to make sure that I have the unlimited texting plan.”

CSR: “For which number?”

Me: “Um. The only number that I have. I hope.”

CSR: “Oh, okay.”


Swear to God.

("Actual Conversation" title format inspired by the Minnesota Matron. Pictures courtesy of Google Images.)

Not a Simple Plan . . . with Unlimited Texting

Laura wants a cell phone because ALL THE KIDS in her class have one. (Most of them do.)

She's not getting one.

I'm not saying that kids of any particular age should or shouldn't have cell phones. Depending on a kid's activities or schedule or whatever, some parents deem it appropriate or even necessary. Laura thinks texting her friends is necessary. Tom and I don't. We could be wrong. We don't mind being wrong sometimes.


Of course, it isn't that simple.


Also? Laura wants her own iPod.

I'm not saying that kids of any particular age should or shouldn't have iPods. As a matter of fact, Tom was given an iTouch that he never used, so we let Laura have it. For music and games. We thought.

Five minutes after the battery was charged, I got an email from Laura's iTouch.

I did not know that the iTouch has email capabilities. I learn something new every day around here.


Of course, it isn't that simple.


I got an email this morning from The Rat (Laura's nickname). The content of the message is unimportant; it was the signature line that got my attention:

"sent from the rat's iPod because her parents won't let her get a cell phone"

Swear to God.


Of course, it isn't even that simple.


Laura downloaded a free texting application that allows her to text from the iTouch.

Who knew that was possible? Not me. I learn something new every day around here.

Laura started texting her friends. Who started texting me. I don't know why. One recent night between 8pm and 9pm, I had over twenty texts and none were from MY friends. The next day at 6:30am, the texts to my phone from Laura's friends began anew. My plot to avoid all of this "unnecessary" texting was foiled by nine year olds and I had to make sure I had unlimited texting on my cellular plan. Because my text plan? Not free.


Of course, you know the drill, still not that simple.


This morning? After breakfast? Laura was downstairs and I was upstairs fooling around online working at my computer. This text exchange took place:


From Laura's iTouch: so can i have ice cream?

From Cheri's iPhone boyfriend: No.

From Laura's iTouch: down here it says yes.


Apparently the iTouch even comes with a mind of it's own.

How Do You Like Your World View?

I like love to see the world through the handprints of a child.



How do you like your world view?

Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

And now, the big reveal from Wednesday's All in the Family post.

Here's a recap for those who were absent on Wednesday:

The guy in the first photograph is my future son-in-law, Adam.
Who is the guy in the second photograph?

Some of the guesses were:

Adam, now my son-in-law

Adam's brother, twin brother, or evil twin

Adam, now the father of my future grandchild

And Adam's answer: "Apparently I have a clone."

Adam and (my oldest daughter) Kristen

Are you ready for the answer?




Scroll down.




Keep scrolling.




You won't believe me.




But I'm telling the truth.




Keep scrolling.




Are we there yet?




Almost.




Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle.




Fasten your seatbelt.




This is fun, no?




It is for me.




Because I have no life.




Remember that truth is stranger than fiction.




You have reached your destination.

katydidnot's sailor and (my wife) katydidnot

Swear to God.

See? They're all in the family.

All in the Family

The guy standing next to my oldest daughter in the top photograph is my future son-in-law.

Who is the guy in the bottom photograph?

If you already know the answer, step away from your keyboard. Let the other kids play. :-)

And For Her Next Act . . .

As you may or may not have read, earlier this week we thought that Laura's Betta fish died.

The little faker was taking a pebble nap under the pump in her tank.

After we'd prepared a funeral service befitting a head of state, Lavender woke up, waved her purple fin at us, and yelled, "Psych!"

Lavender's nickname is now Lazarus.

Dr. Kevorkian Tom suggested that since Lavender hadn't been looking very energetic and we did have the bathroom all set up for a burial at sea, maybe we should go ahead and, you know . . .

The next morning we found this in her tank:



And the day after that we got a letter from Lavender's agent. Apparently, she's been involved in contract negotiations with Sea World.



It seems that Lavender's agent has specified that considering her death-defying abilities, she will not take a co-starring role.



When we know the opening date of her one-fish show, we'll let you know.

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent Because That's How We Roll

Yesterday, I was putting away groceries in the kitchen. Laura went upstairs to take a shower. A few minutes later, she came back down.

Laura: “Mom, I have sad news. My fish died.”

Me: “Oh. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Laura: “Yes. I found Lavender under the pump.”

Me: “Okay. When Daddy comes home he’ll carry the tank downstairs and we’ll get Lavender out.”

Laura: “Can I get a hamster?”

Me: “No.”

Laura: “Okay.”

Me: “Do you want to do the traditional burial in the backyard or do you want to do a burial at sea?”

Laura: “You mean flush it, right?”

Me: “Yes.”

Laura: “Burial at sea!”

I went upstairs a little while later, and there was Lavender, kind of on her side, under the pump.

Tom came home from work a little while later and we told him the bad news.

We decided to hold the funeral in the downstairs bathroom.

Tom brought the fish tank downstairs and placed it on the kitchen counter.

I gave Tom a plastic cup with which to scoop Lavender’s corpse from the tank.

Laura and I prepared for the interment as we waited for Tom to bring in the dead fish.

We lit a candle at the burial site.

We plugged in the iPod on the bathroom counter.

It turns out we have four versions of Amazing Grace, including one by Billy Ray Cyrus. (How did that even get on my iPod?)

Laura opted for the one by Elvis. (Probably because it made us giggle.)

Laura thought of a few words to say during the service.

Me: “Tom, we’re ready. Are you going to bring in the fish?”

Tom: “Uh . . . no.”

Me: “Why not?”

Tom: “You might want to come and take a look.”

Laura and I went into the kitchen and looked into the fish tank.

There was Lavender, swimming around.

Tom: “You know, Lavender is acting like she’s close to the end . . . and you do have everything all set up in the bathroom . . .”

Me: “No.”

Laura’s former fish (who, apparently, may or may not have actually been dead when we buried them):

Pedro (formerly known as Sparkle, who then was Natalie, and then was Natalie or Savannah before being posthumously renamed Pedro)

Napoleon (who was formerly known as Laura, and before that was Savannah, and before that was Sparklie)*

Deb

Apart from Deb, who quite miraculously managed to avert a full-on identity crisis by hanging on to the one pithy name her entire life . . . all of Laura’s fish have endured several name changes.

Why stop now?

I’m thinking of changing Lavender’s name to Lazarus.

I’m also changing Tom’s name to Dr. Kevorkian.

___________
*Kate: Because I know it will arouse you, click the Napoleon link. (That post has legal words like intestate and possessory interest.)

What To Do When Your Child Asks For a Lawyer . . . If You're a Man

The other night, Tom and I were, um, shall we say, parentally challenged with our overly tired, emotionally expressive, and almost-perfect-in-every-other-way youngest daughter before bedtime. Ahem.

During the time we spent getting Laura to go bed, she asked for a lawyer. Swear to God.

Afterward, Tom and I were hiding standing in our closet forming an exit strategy talking over the evening’s events.

Tom was visibly sad.

We were discussing important things, like how we can help our child respectfully handle authority figures, how to ensure that she is able to cope with life's inevitable disappointments, and how to foster inner strength and outward cooperation.

In short, we were standing in the closet creating a well-reasoned plan of action so as to positively shape Laura’s psychological future.

Okay. Um. Actually? We were standing in the closet trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

But it was a serious discussion.

[Editor’s Note: The author’s mother-in-law, the author’s children, and Laura’s friend Jackie should stop reading now.]


Tom [looking sad]: “No television tomorrow. I already told her that.”

Me: “Yes, absolutely. Screen time is a no.”

Tom: “What else?”

Me: “I think we should think about what else when we’re calm.”

Tom [looking sadder]: “Good idea.”

Me: “I think we need to have a plan for what we’re going to say and do.”

Tom: “It makes me feel so sad when she has a hard time.”

Me: “You did a really good job with her tonight. It isn’t easy being a parent. Sometimes you have to do what’s best for them, and you know they won’t like it, but you still have to do it.”

Tom: [looks down at my chest]

Me: “Are you looking at my breasts right now?”

Tom [smiles]: “Yes.”

Me: “What the? We’re in the middle of a serious discussion.”

Tom: “I know, but they’re nice.”

Me: “A moment ago you had tears in the corners of your eyes.”

Tom [still looking at my chest, smiling]: “I know, but your breasts are really nice.”