Ah, it’s Monday, meaning it’s time for the 3-day-
starve-a-thon-diet to start. I am fairly sure I have never wanted scrambled eggs as badly as I do this morning, as the prospect of a piece of toast with peanut butter and 1/2 of cup of *shudder* grapefruit juice looms over me.
Terry and I (as I’ve mentioned 5000 times) went to Ohio for Ariana’s birthday and while we were there, Terry decided to go through some of our things that are stored in my parents’ basement. We ended up bringing home two totes full of scripts and parts to his computer so that he can set up the computer and find out whats on it. Too bad for him, he’s going to have to set it up in the basement because there’s no room upstairs… I’m sure he’ll enjoy the dank, dingy smell of the cold basement as he sits there to go through old documents and pictures. And BONUS: he can watch my laundry while he’s down there, so not only do I get quiet time, but I don’t have to run up and down rickety stairs! Awesome!
As he went through one of the totes, he found an old cordless phone he had back in college, which looks like a dinosaur compared to most of the cordless phones that are out today. This phone is bulky and looks like it’s eaten several of the new, slimmer versions of itself. As we don’t have a landline (or care to in the near future), we threw it out. If we pull it out of the trashcan, I bet it will have eaten everything and will be alarmingly larger than when it went in.
We’re getting Ariana the mattress for her toddler bed today, I think. Then we have to toddler-proof the room, aka remove everything from the bedroom so she can’t destroy anything when we leave the room, which she does even when we’re in there… so maybe there’s no point to doing it anyway. That means that I just put WAY too much effort into writing this sentence since I’ve changed my mind. Fail.
One of her birthday presents was Mr. and Mrs. Potato head. Do you remember these? I do, but I remember them being a heck of a lot easier to play with. I had Terry hold the body then proceeded to pull the Mr.’s arm. I braced myself with my feet on Terry’s leg and continued to pull and pull and pull (are you envisioning this? It’s fairly entertaining). After that failed, Terry pulled out the chainsaw and we attempted (no success) to saw off the offending arm (Mr. Potato Head’s, not Terry’s). Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating, but only slightly. It honestly took me a couple minutes to get the arm out. How can my kid play with a toy that even I, her extremely buff (ha) and strong (kinda) mother cannot get apart?
We decided to put the Spud Heads away for a while, at least until Harper is old enough to not eat the pieces, and long enough that I forget about the anguish I went through trying to yank a toy’s arm out.
Goodness, you must be asleep by this point with all of my rambling! I’ll let you ponder the meaning of life (I’ll give you a hint, it’s 42) while I go running and dream of delicious amazing scrambled eggs. Mmm.