All Rileyed Up

We went on a road trip today. During the drive, The Boy announced the oft-heard, inopportune phrase, “I need to go pee.” Those who of you who are unfamiliar with toddlers should know that “holding it in” lasts approximately 1.2 minutes. On a generous day.

I immediately pulled over to an unfamiliar area of LA (never a good description) and drove by graffiti-covered buildings and, ahem, Meat Markets (as in, not a sleazy night club that I might have frequented at age eighteen whilst wearing inappropriate clothing, but corner stores blaring the sign “Meat Market”) until I found a burger joint with an outside, key-required, scraped-up toilet behind a wrought iron security door.

Hey. When you gotta pee, you gotta pee.

About an hour later, The Boy announced, “I need to go poo” just as we were in the middle of four-lane 20 mph traffic on a 70mph freeway (yes, on a Sunday), with no exits in sight. The conversation went something like this:

The Boy: I need to go poo.

Me: Okay, buddy, just hang on for a few minutes, and we’ll get to a bathroom.

Johnny Cash via Car Speaker: Love… is a burning thing… It makes… a fiery ring…

The Boy (tearfully): I need to go poo NOW!

Husband: Buddy, there aren’t any bathrooms. You’re going to have to wait.

Johnny: I fell in… to a ring of fire.

The Boy: I want to go on the ground!

Me: What?

The Boy: I want to go on the ground!

Johnny: I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher…

Me: Buddy, we can’t pull over to the side of the road. It’s too dangerous.

The Boy: (now crying) I need to go poo! I need to go poo!

Husband: (holding up the paper bag from the Del Taco drive thru) Do you want to go poo in this paper bag?

The Boy: (after a moment’s hesitation). Yeah. Yeah, I want to go poo in the bag.

Johnny: And it burns, burns, burns…

Tense moments ensue as I am driving, totally mortified at what is going on that I can have nothing to do with because I am driving, so I therefore choose to concentrate on the “da-da-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-da….” Ring of Fire tune). I chance a glance at Husband, twisted in the Passenger Seat Parent Position, and laughing.

Husband: Honey, you do NOT want to see what’s in this bag.

Johnny: I went down, down, down, and the flames went higher…

The Boy: (triumphantly) I went poo poo in the bag!

Me: Um, please put that bag on top of something else because I don’t want anything to soak through.

Husband: Oh, it’s fine.

Me: Look, it’s my car, and I don’t want anything to soak through the bag. Put it on top of something. Remember my Disneyland experience?*

Husband: Okay. (puts bag on top of something)

The Boy: I went poo poo in the bag! (claps hands)

Johnny: And it burns, burns, burns… the ring of fire… the ring of fire.

Ten minutes later, we dropped off the bag ‘o un-edibles in a trash can, and continued along our merry way. The Boy proclaimed randomly “I went poo poo in the bag!” for the rest of the drive. Probably for the rest of this trip.

It was a fun drive.

(FYI, the Del Taco bag did not soak through. Those guys make a durable paper bag.)

*At Disneyland, while sitting by myself while my sister-in-law and niece went on a roller coaster, a sudden case of what I thought was morning sickness (I was 8 weeks pregnant with Little No Limit) overcame me, and I relieved it in The Boy’s McDonalds happy meal box, which proved to be made of weak cardboard, seeing as it broke in the middle of my throwing up, and everything, yes EVERYTHING splattered on my feet (My FEET, people!). As that particular day went on, I learned it was not, in fact, a random attack of morning sickness, but food poisoning. The rest of that night included a trip to the emergency room and, for all intents and purposes, sucked balls. And it burns, burns, burns…

See other pix –
wordless wednesday
Wordless Wednesday

I am putting off postcard commentary today to offer you a tacky product discovered at the local 7-11, or as some people may start calling it, Pusher Palace. Could someone please explain this product to me:

Let me get this straight: “pure uncut energy” drink mix in a vial, with a warning that says “Do Not Snort”? I’d give you the website for this ridiculousness, but I don’t want to encourage people to visit it and the plethora of skanks that grace the homepage. It figures this company hails from Vegas. I thought what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas? Apparently not.

Oh well, I guess it’s still one step below this:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMsP32rk31k]

So in addition to the dubiously great news that we may have figured out how to get The Boy’s eczema in line, we have seen a new Little No Limit around the house this past week.

She listens when I say no. She comprehends when I say “eat at the table.” She backs down when I say “No screaming. Use your words.”

It’s amazing, I tell you. Her speech therapists both commented that this week was a great week for her and she was trying really hard to communicate, so we may be hitting a new level in the world of Little No Limit.

As a bonus, she has added a new word to her vocabulary.

Meow.

She pretends to be a cat, complete with the style in which she eats out of a bowl (surprise, surprise). If I say “Meow” back to her, she gets excited. And if I sing the Meow Mix commercial, she gets REALLY excited.

Of course, I have no idea how she came up with the idea to be a cat. We have two dogs, and no cats. Maybe this is her (in)discreet way of continuing to antagonize the dogs.

More importantly, I now know that my daughter has a shot at being a state trooper:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oA4kcSdDWaw]

Part of the Carnival of Family Life.

Shadow at Play

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wordless wednesday
Wordless Wednesday

(assuming you make it a certain way)

Some of you may know that The Boy is plagued with eczema. The kind of eczema that keeps him up at night. The kind of eczema that gets me calls from school. The kind of eczema that leads strangers to walk up to me and say “What’s wrong with him?” as if this is an acceptable way to start a conversation (and just so you know “He has the flesh-eating virus” is not as funny a response as you might think).

Well, eczema, the time has come. I am throwing down the gauntlet:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqPEQ-RR0FQ]

I just got back the results of a rather comprehensive blood test that tested for a different, um, style? (I ain’t no doctor and I don’t know no medicalese) of antibody reaction. Basically, it tests for a long-term allergy as opposed to an immediate reaction allergy (which is what our previous tests checked for). I’d have done this as a Thursday Thirteen, but there’s just too darn many of them. We found sixteen – count that – sixteen different foods that caused a reaction:

Almond*
Avocado*
Cheese
Egg
Cow’s Milk
Oat*
Peanut
Rice
Rye
Sesame
Soybean*
Sunflower
Wheat*
Baker’s Yeast*
Brewer’s Yeast
Gluten*

*Things My Son Eats Every Day

This is going to be fun.

If you want something done right, you better do it yourself. And by “something” I mean “go ape-shit crazy.” And by “you” I mean “Phillip Wellman, Minor League manager for the Mississippi Braves.”

Me: So, Mr. Wellman, tell me – what’s your favorite part of this video clip?

Phillip Wellman: Well, you see that part where it looks like I’m saying f*ck you? I am. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Me: Hmm. Yes, that was very tasteful. I personally liked how you threw the bases. How that’d go for your arm? I mean, those things are kind of wieldy.

Phillip Wellman: Yeah, yeah, I pulled an arm muscle. It was worth it to give those jacked up umpires a piece of my mind.

Me: Indeed. So how did you initially discover your talent for throwing “a classic tantrum”?

Phillip Wellman: I started remembering my tantrums once I turned four, but according to my parents they started at two. I found out that if I threw myself down and screamed, then I could get whatever I wanted. It’s continued that way since.

Me: Oh. So what you’re telling me, is that there’s hope for my children to both go on to be Minor League sports managers?

Phillip Wellman: You betcha.

Me: Thanks for your time. This clip is definitely one for the record books.

Phillip Wellman: I hold a lot of records. During high school, I played junior hockey and still hold two league records: most time spent in the penalty box; and I was the only guy to ever take off his skate and try to stab somebody.

Me: That’s a line from Happy Gilmore.

Phillip Wellman: No, it’s not.

Me: Yes, it is. I have a copy of it right here.

Phillip Wellman: Oh yeah? Well here’s what I think of YOU and YOUR STUPID HAPPY GILMORE MOVIE—

Me: Here we go again. Sigh.

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phillip wellman

You might have heard any of these remarks over the course of my visit with the vet today:

1. Looks like Riley is headed for the vet’s office with both dogs and both kids. She’s overdue for that rabies vac. I’m thinking she might run into some trouble if any dogs show up from opposing teams.

2. Then we’re definitely in for some excitement. Not only are there two poodles in the waiting room, there’s two more jumped up dogs lingering around the exam rooms! I predict lots of barking in the near future.

3. Just listen to all that noise in the lobby! Those dogs are going wild!

4. Heh, heh, those aren’t just dogs. It seems Little No Limit wants to eat the dog biscuits. Kind of reminds me of that water bowl incident of 2005.

5. What’s that they’re saying to Riley? Two emergencies are taking up all the exam rooms? Looks like more time on the bench

6. Uh oh, some bad news coming for Riley. Notorious F.O.X. might have ringworm! That does explain that thing on Riley’s neck that she thought was a pimple that wasn’t going away.

7. Okay, things are looking better. Her Name is Rio is finishing off her visit. Nothing wrong with her but a little tartar on the teeth, which comes as no shock to Riley who doesn’t even own a dog toothbrush.

8. Heck, she doesn’t even enforce daily tooth brushing with her kids. Nobody’s thinking she’s brushing the dog’s teeth.

9. Hey, looks like the office is presenting her with a bill for $282. 75. Riley does not look happy. I hope she knows that next week, she’s going to get hit with late fees on those dog license renewals.

10. That’ll teach her to procrastinate. Things are wrapping up now. Another typical visit to the vet for Riley–wait… wait… what’s going on here? The Boy is throwing Riley for a loop! What’s that he’s saying? Potty? How is she going to manage this one? She can’t bring Notorious F.O.X. back into the office because she has ringworm, but she can’t leave the dogs outside either! This could be good.

11. I don’t believe it. She is telling The Boy to wait and he couldn’t be more angry! I have seen it all!

12. Actually, no. The vet office has offered to hold the dogs outside while Riley takes The Boy in. What a lucky break.

13. I tell you what – this has been one eventful trip to the vet. Riley got thrown a ton of curve balls, and she still came out calm enough that when she left, the vet assistant said, “You are so patient. I mean that. In fact, you’re my idol.”

And that’s the game.

This post marks my first ever participation in a Thursday Thirteen, which you can also learn about here.