All Rileyed Up

I have mentioned (obsessed over) the fact that The Boy has eczema. It used to be categorized as severe eczema, but has since been downgraded to moderate eczema. Most likely because of the removal of many, many foods from his diet. But the eczema still persists and from time to time, and I am still asked if he has (or just recently recovered from) chicken pox.

Why hasn’t it gone away entirely? Who knows. The weather. The dogs. Something out of place in his spine. Genetics. Stress. Allergies. Digestive issues. These are all answers I’ve received in the past from various people of western and alternative health practices.

Recently, I was made aware of the American Standard Heating & Air Conditioning’s AccuClean™ whole home air filtration system.

I am seriously considering getting this. I have no idea how much it costs, since they don’t even list the starting prices online (my wallet quivers in my back pocket as I write this), but according to my tax accountant, if I spend more than seven percent of my income on health related expenses, I can deduct them from my taxes, and while I don’t know if this would meet the required seven percent, this should count as health-related, shouldn’t it? Maybe I should include a picture of my son’s skin?

It’s old, but still infamous

Also, AccuClean removes nearly all allergens AND prevents odors. So not only could this help The Boy’s skin, it might also address the problem of my home smelling like dog.

I resent that comment. I smell like lilies. And roses. You should WANT to smell like me.

As a sequel to this post, here are suggested edits to this FOXnews.com article, sent to me by good friend T:

An unsuspecting (lucky or unlucky? only time will tell) passenger who flew through Tokyo’s Narita airport left with $10,000 worth of free marijuana thanks to a forgetful (soon-to-be fired) customs officer (undercover drug trafficker with a solid plan) and a sniffer dog (mangy mutt) with an unreliable nose (ya think?).

The officer stuffed five ounces (is it my imagination or have prices gone up?) of the drug into the side pocket of a randomly selected black suitcase (the bulletproof briefcases were already filled with cocaine) coming off an overseas flight into Narita yesterday so that the dog could get some practice at detecting drugs. (or, as it turns, get some practice at NOT detecting drugs)

“The dog couldn’t find it (he’s since been euthanized) and the officer also forgot which bag he put it in (clearly a case of ‘he sampled the product to determine its potency’),” a customs office spokeswoman (irritated personnel) said. “If by some chance passengers find it in their suitcase, we’re asking them to return it.” (she tried not to laugh as she said this)

The spokeswoman quoted the unnamed (fired) 38-year-old officer as saying: “I knew that using passengers’ bags is prohibited, but I did it because I wanted to improve the sniffer dog’s ability.” (plus, I was high. We later attempted to sneak onto a flight to Amsterdam. I dressed him up with a hat and trench coat. It was funny. Heh. Trench coat. Have you ever seen a dog in a trench coat! Ha!)

He was reprimanded by the head of customs at Narita, Manpei Tanaka, who said: “This case was extremely regrettable. (we were planning on using that marijuana for an upcoming party) I would like to deeply apologize.” (to my drug lord, who now has a couple bounty hunters on my ass for 10 grand. Do you have any idea how much that is in yen!!!!!!)

The marijuana, which has a street value of $9,680, was in a metal box wrapped with newspapers. (The owner of the black suitcase is likely to suspect a bomb. He will later note, it wasn’t A bomb, but DA bomb.) Japan strictly prohibits both hard and soft drugs, (the semi-soft are still acceptable due to certain agreements made with France) with people imprisoned (or given a job with customs) for possession of even small amounts (less than 10,000 yen worth) of marijuana.

Uh, what’s Japanese for “Whoops, my bad”?

You ever seen Young Guns II? I’ve seen it, oh, say, a gazillion million googolplex times? (shout out to Catherine) That is only movie I ever saw six times in a theatre. Why? Hmm. Eighth grade. Feast o’ fine men. Gun slinging. Good quotes – yoo hoo, I’ll make you famous; howdy doc, how’re your drawers?; yessir, I do: you can go to hell, hell, hell; it’s an ancient Navajo word—it means stop; and my personal favorite, you only like boys?

I bought the one and only Bon Jovi album I ever have or ever shall own, Blaze Of Glory: Songs Written And Performed By Jon Bon Jovi, Inspired By The Film Young Guns II. And oh, how I listened to that cassette tape. Over and over.

Years later, over the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, I got a phone call from Lawyer Girl. She had popped in one of my old VHS tapes that I had recorded some movie off TV with, and then got busy doing something else, so the tape played on. Her comment was this:

“I, um… I found the Bon Jovi video.”

Busted. I had forgotten all about that week of watching MTV just to hit the Record button at the exact start of the Blaze of Glory video.

There is no way accurately describe her voice. She may as well have said, I, um, I know you were the fourth gunman on the grassy knoll.

What was I to do? I fessed up. Yeah. I liked it. Yeah. I recorded it. So what. I was thirteen and the Blaze of Glory video featured all the hotties from the movie. Sue me.

Does this make me a Bon Jovi fan? No. It makes me a Young Guns II fan. But I will give Bon Jovi credit for a few things: You Give Love a Bad Name, because without that song, what ever would the guy with the mohawk have sung on karaoke night (who, incidentally, my friend realized was one of the grocery baggers at Trader Joe’s); the Triumph the Insult Comic Dog Bon Jovi concert coverage; and finally, the mere fact that they are STILL AROUND!!!! WTF!!! How can they still be going strong after all these years?

As Husband put it, “Even Journey, I can kind of understand. But Bon Jovi? I don’t get it.”

And now, in all its (Blaze of) Glory, the video—please note the excellent emphasis on the power of music from the 4:25 to 4:27 time frame.

I’ve been experiencing difficulty with getting the children into the habit of brushing their teeth.

Step One. Get them to enjoy it. With the Barbie and Snoopy old school toothbrushes, whenever I announced time to brush our teeth, I was met with a horrified “Noooooooo” in that falling-voice vein of “you’re TORturing meeeeeeeeeee.” So I bought fancy electric toothbrushes. I had actually asked Sister-in-law to buy them for their Christmas gifts and though she said she was going to, she bought them toys at the last minute because she “didn’t want to be the lame aunt who got them toothbrushes.”

I have since acquired Little No Limit an ice cream cone toothbrush (anyone else see the irony in an ICE CREAM CONE TOOTHBRUSH????%$%$@@#!!!!) and for The Boy, Spider-Man, because while Spidey may be able to do whatever a spider can, he can also suffer a cavity and gum bleeding just like the next guy.

This was my first foray into the electric toothbrush world for children, and I didn’t really stop and consider that there were different options. I just bought the two that looked most fun. And ridiculous (for god’s sake, an ice cream cone!!!!!) I assumed they were like my Sonicare brush, in which you press a button and it stays on for two minutes, and then it turns off. Alas, I have learned yet again to STOP ASSUMING THINGS. The ice cream cone switches on and stays in that position until you turn it off. Which means I have to stay in the bathroom while they brush because Little No Limit hasn’t the strength to actually push the button to the off position (great bejeebus, that thing is hard). The Spidey toothbrush doesn’t stay on at all. You have to keep your thumb on the button the whole time you brush—clearly the faultier design of the two.

So I think of these as their trainer electric toothbrushes. I’ll splurge once they get the hang of it and get them Sonicares next time.

Step Two. Get them to use toothpaste appropriately. They kept swallowing the toothpaste instead of spitting it out. This gave me the willies because it reminded me of a boy from my third grade glass who was a little too pale and a little too pasty-white in complexion. On dental hygiene day (or whatever you want to call the annual day they talk to us at school about “You don’t have to floss ALL your teeth – just those you wish to keep!” Funny! I get it! You DO have to floss! HA HAAAAAAA, oh I just can’t stop laughing, HA!), this boy in my third grade class told us he preferred swallowing the toothpaste instead of spitting it out and rinsing, and I remember needing to give myself more than a few circle-circle-dot-dots when I was around him. I don’t want my kids to be that guy.

So I took the toothpaste away entirely and told them to just use the toothbrushes for a while. According to my dentist friend and my dental hygienist, the brushing is the most important part of the routine, not the toothpaste. So I figure if they’re at least getting the toothbrush on and around their teeth for two minutes, then I’m accomplishing something.

But the kids actually like their toothpaste and after three days of brushing with nothing, they took matters into their own hands. Yesterday, I walked into the bathroom, and they were both happily brushing their teeth, without my prompting. This pleased me. Until I realized what they were brushing their teeth with. Top Care! Triple Antibiotic Ointment (AKA Generic Neosporin). Gads. The tube does bear a striking resemblance to the kids size toothbpaste tubes, but could it possibly have tasted good?

I called Poison Control—my old friend, it’s me, the Listerine, FlexAll, and Cascade woman—and they told me not to worry about it. Rinse their mouths out, the kids will be fine. He also added that kids can have an allergic reaction but that it was rare. Very rare. Twenty minutes later, The Boy broke out in hives. @$%! A few stressed phone calls to various medical personnel, a Benadryl, and a cold bath later, the hives were gone, the allergy ruled out, and the offending ointment removed from the kids bathroom medicine cabinet.

Sigh.

All in the name of good-looking teeth.

Why must you turn this office into a den of lies?

Saturday Morning Cartoons turned spectacular movies–what’s your opinion on these? I know the storylines are never thrilling or original, but I love to watch these movies anyway.

This is what I remember about Speed Racer from my childhood: the fact that I loved it. I would get very excited when it came on. I would watch it with my brothers and sister. I remember Speed’s blue shirt and red hankie. I remember Trixie. I remember the way their mouths formed a circle when they gasped or shouted “Oh no!” and that whenever someone was punched or kicked, the next shot would be of their open mouth shouting “Ow!”

When news of the Speed Racer movie first came out, I was excited. The Wachowski brothers were making it. Awesome. They were going to be using new film technology. Double awesome.

Last night, Husband and I saw it. Despite what others might say, Speed Racer fulfilled all my needs for an entertaining night at the movies, and I’m glad I saw it over Iron Man. Glad I tell you, GLAD! The storyline was—wait for it—Speed Racer vs. The Man. What a surprise. Go, Speed, go. But, oh, what a feast for the eyes. Bright, swirling lights? Check. Sweet rides? Check. Borders on psychedelic? Check. I don’t mind paying ten bucks a pop for movies like this, because they’re worth seeing on a big screen. I hope the technical crew wins big at the Oscars.

Speed Racer still donned his blue shirt and Christina Ricci looked perfect as Trixie, and the score made good use of the Speed Racer theme (though I’m not entirely sure about the ending credits remix). I reminisced over those years of watching that campy cartoon and how it had morphed into this big screen rendition of elaborate race tracks and big to-do special effects. Sigh. My little Speedy is all grown up.

Oh, and kudos to the casting and costuming minds that brought us Matthew Fox clad in black leather AND a mask. Oh, the things I can think…

Yowza.

And now, the countdown to Voltron.

After the typical Mother’s Day agenda—roses, no morning chores, brunch with the whole family—a group of us went to the petting zoo, where mothers were given free entrance.

As always, the first place we visited was the guinea pig/rabbit petting pen, where these docile creatures cower in fear under the wooden seating benches and happy children run amok, offering carrots and other treats before snatching the animals into their lap and holding them until said guinea pig or rabbit successfully escapes. Oh, what a roller coaster of emotions go on in this pen.

The Boy has a guinea pig radar. He can shoot his hand out, catch one, and pick it up in 3 seconds flat. It’s incredible. Surprisingly, he has never been bitten. Unlike me. While The Boy is quite gentle with his prey, Little No Limit makes them squeal, so we have her sit on the bench while The Boy catches the guinea pigs for her, and then we hand them over to her. The pen is approximately 10 x 20 feet, and on Mother’s Day, there were approximately 15 adults and 20 kids in there, and a camera:human ratio of 5:1. It got, shall we say, a little overwhelming.

We moved on to the goat feeding pen, where you can actually walk into the feeding area. Previously, you stood on the other side of the fence. I think it was better that way. Because if you walk into a goat feeding area with a basket of carrots, you know what happens? They jump on you. Now, for me, this situation warrants a “hey, back off, buddy” but for three-feet high children, the situation warrants more of a def con four-style “AHHHHH! There’s a GOAT ON ME!!!!!” Two goats teamed up on Little No Limit while three goats jumped on me at the same time. I quickly discovered that getting rid of the basket of carrots was key to our not getting trampled by overfed-yet-hungry-for-more goats, and set the basket atop one of their play structures that was too high for them to reach. They stopped jumping and stood around, eyeing my hand every time it went for the carrots. I tried to let Little No Limit and The Boy feed them, but the goats were a bit too dominating for their tastes and they threw the carrots several feet away from them in attempts to make the goats give them some breathing room.

We were about to leave when Father-In-Law said he wanted to take a picture of the kids with the baby goat that had walked over and was kindly letting them pet it. As the kids smiled for the camera, the baby goat showed its true colors and seized the opportunity to attempt to eat the ladybug patch on Little No Limit’s dress. Seriously! Little No Limit screamed and started pushing at the goat’s head shouting “No! No! No dress!” Oh, if only she could have mimicked the soup nazi and said “no dress for you!”

Needless to say, we were done with the goat pen. No sooner had we left did The Boy promptly break out in hives.

Goodbye, petting zoo. It’s been fun.

Mista! Mista! GET ME OUTTA HERE!

Today, I attended a “mother’s day with muffins” celebration at preschool. I attended The Boy’s party at 8:45. I arrived at 8:55. I guess my watch was off. I’m still getting used to the automatic watch Husband gave me for my birthday. If you don’t wear it for a couple days, it loses time and/or stops ticking altogether and you have to shake it up to get it going again. Anyway, we arrived at preschool, and I enjoyed a deliciously high calorie muffin that has ruined my SparkPeople calorie intake for the day. The Boy presented me with my mother’s day gift, a potted marigold. That was about it. Last year, the kids serenaded us, but this year there was no song—which is just as well, since The Boy spent last year’s portion of song time scratching himself while I whispered “don’t do that!”

I like this marigold more than last year’s gift, which was a hand-painted wooden picture frame a la the wood crafts aisle at Michael’s. It contained a picture of The Boy, with a toy riding horse in the background (the old-school kind that’s connected to a metal bottom frame with springs). I thought the background décor odd until I saw the other moms’ picture frames: their children were on the horse and smiling at the camera. In The Boy’s photo, he is sitting on the ground, scratching himself, and frowning. They said it was the best shot they could get because “he was really itchy that day.” I kept the picture in the frame, maybe as a reminder that eczema sucks. It was nice to look at it today and think, well, at least he would get on the horse this time around. Although, to be honest, after almost a year of no gluten and such, I had expected his skin to look better than it does. But that’s a whole other post.

I left the mother’s day party and returned an hour and a half later for the second “mother’s day with muffins” party in Little No Limit’s class. At least I was on time for this one (I set my watch). Same exact party, whole new cast of moms. The teachers all joked about how I do double duty on the party days since I have children in each of the pre-K classes. Little No Limit was exceptionally proud to present me with my marigold. This is her first mother’s day present for me. She drew a card that said “I Love My Mom because she bakes cupcakes.” Her drawing of me looked a bit like a submarine, and between that and the cupcakes remarks, I’m concerned she may be trying to tell me something.

I left that party at the same time as one of the other mothers and we discussed our upcoming IEPs and how our children are faring in the program and the many hoops we have to jump through for different services. We talked about the questionnaires, the interviews, the casualty with which the school refers to how they perceive our children. At one point in the conversation, I said “The only thing I know is that I don’t know.” I thought about the remark on the ride home, and truthfully, I don’t even remember what question of hers provoked that response. There were so many things we talked about that that could have been the answer to, and they all began with but how do they know… and how do they differentiate that from… So many concerns tossed between us like we were wanting to hear the other say, yeah, me too but at the same time, hear something of comfort like, yeah, me too, but I still think it will all work out.

The kids are now home from school. My morning conversation is falling into the blurry past as I help with bubble blowing and coloring, and protect the dogs from “playtime.” Later, we might take the bikes to the beach.

All in all, a typical day.

I came across Write From Karen, who asks the question, What does it mean to be a mom? Well, since I stay at home, I considered what I do on a typical day:

I bring the kids to school.

I eat a muffin.

I serve myself up a heaping dollop of self-doubt.

I spend time with the kids.

And I get over it.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it all again. Except for the muffin.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple marigolds to plant.

See other pix here: Wordless Wednesday

I don’t honestly know if there is a specific time of year when garage sales are all the rage, but based on my neighborhood this past weekend, that time appears to be May. Everyone is cleaning all their stuff out, putting their winter things away and pulling out their summer stuff (I realize that here in southern CA, we don’t have a major winter but we do perform this seasonal cleaning (check out other ways to celebrate the change of seasons at Busy Bee Kim’s 10 Ways to Welcome Spring, posted at Busy Bee Lifestyle).

I’m a fan of garage sales myself. My two favorite purchases were a pair of roller skates and a super-huge sombrero (seriously, the diameter was probably two feet) that I bought just to wear around the house (yes, everyone was thrilled with me). I can tell you right now, though, that if I ever saw something like this, I would totally buy it:MamaGeek presents Oh, The Junk at What Works For Us.

Although christinemoers laments the injustice that is the crane machine in Tough life lessons at the crane machine at welcome to my brain, what she doesn’t know is that all those toys wind up in the garage sale bin too. Husband is addicted to crane machines – addicted I tell you! AND – he always WINS! It’s actually a little unnerving. I think he might have some sort of electromagnetic pull that he’s not telling me about.

Baby things are also really big at garage sales, since we all know how quickly those things lose their necessity. All you parents of toddlers may find this picture amusing: Erika Jurney posts If this were an accurate blog post about the state of my life… at Plain Jane Mom Blog. Ah, I’m glad to no longer contend with those toys. I’ve graduated to the Legos that are never collected in the same place, the puzzles that are always missing one piece that only gets found after you get rid of it, and an assortment of arms, legs, and mouths with no Mr. Potato Head. I look forward to moving on to older kid interests, like pets—though I think this particular blogger wins the prize for accommodating her children’s pet interests: Jenny B presents Pets fer Pirates posted at Ship Full O’ Pirates. (I think I’d rather deal with American Girl dolls, skateboards, and video games.)

Speaking of which, another thing we tend to find at garage sales are old electronics. I know my family sold our old ColecoVision at a garage sale (yes. ColecoVision. Did that take you back? I ruled at Lady Bug!). Before you throw that broken/questionable device into the garage sale bins, run down this list from Veteran Military Wife, Don’t Throw Out that Broken Piece of Crap Electronic, posted at Life Lessons of a Military Wife, where she offers tips on fixing broken electronics before they land in the garage sale heap.

I’m surprised she didn’t mention the repair kits for scratched DVDs. That thing is a life saver (or rather, disc saver) in my house. And I need my DVDs in good shape for our travels, just like this road warrior: Beth Blair tells us about her husband’s recent road trip in Six Tips: Surviving a Family Road Trip, posted at Traveling Mamas.

Garage sales are also fun things to bring the kids to, because they enjoy looking at other people’s things, or haven’t you noticed when you go to your friend’s impeccable home and they touch everything with dirty fingers and say “What’s that?” a zillion times over. Kids can also usually afford to buy something at a garage sale, as opposed to Nordstrom, where they drag you along and beg you to buy it for them.

Sarah presents Our Allowance System at SmallWorld, in which she shares her allowance plan that she uses with her three kids, while GP puts a new spin on the old phrase “money doesn’t grow on trees” in Can’t see the Forest for the Trees?, posted at Innstyle Montana- Come on Inn.

By the way, after you buy that set of mixing bowls for $1.00 (which you know you haggled down from $3.00) here’s a cooking tip from Alison to stretch out your recipe-Not Following The Recipe, posted at This Wasn’t in The Plan.

It never fails that in the garage sale clothing bins, you will find forelorn college logo apparel, or better yet, some random sports affiliation (Maine Lacross State Championship 1957!). Mark Montgomery takes college apparel to a new level as he seriously addresses the topic of finding help when deciding on a college. That pink tank top is awesome–College Fit: How Does the Shirt Look on Me?, posted at Great College Advice.

Unfortunately, not all clothing is funny, as this post points out:
Lin Burress presents So Sexy, So Soon: The Sexualization of Childhood in Commercial Culture posted at Telling It Like It Is. Yikes!

Rounding out the rest of the Carnival’s garage sale family bin are these posts:

Gia Combs-Ramirez wrote a touching memoir about her friend Sally, Why Don’t They Call It Up Syndrome?, posted at The Science of Energy Healing.

And though Kaye didn’t personally write this, here’s a nice tribute post to moms everywhere: Mrs Nespy’s World: Being a Mom, posted at Mrs Nespy’s World.

Fathersez presents My Son, A Gentleman in Waiting, a sweet post with the sweetest looking boy about things to do to be a great dad, posted at Father Sez.

Marilyn Parks reflects on past relationships and lessons learned from them in As the rain falls posted at The Farm Blahg.

T. Dalia argues to replace the term “stepmom” in Time for a Change, posted at Daily Dalia

Lastly, some informative and how-to posts from the miscellaneous bin of the Carnival’s garage sale:

How to research your family history-
Niharika Das presents 50 Awesome Tools for Researching Your Family’s History posted at Bootstrapper.

Why not to spank-
jc wheeler presents Parenting Teens Blog » Blog Archive » There are other ways to discipline posted at Parenting Teens Blog.

The importance of playtime-
Fiona Lohrenz presents Importance of Play! posted at Child Care Only.

A book review-
Gwendolyn Cuizon presents Alice Walker: Everyday Use posted at Gwendolyn Cuizon.

Allergies-
Amy Vernon presents Food allergies posted at ice cream is not for breakfast.

Human body facts-
Aparna presents Interesting and unusual health trivia posted at Beauty and Personal Grooming.

When your child is the bully-
Amanda Harris presents When Your Child is the Bully posted at eFamilyBlogger.

Getting tutoring-
Amanda presents Free tutoring on Mother’s Day posted at Me Vs. Debt.

Thanks for coming to the garage sale. Hope you found something to meet your needs. If not, try out next week’s carnival, hosted at Write From Karen.

As always, you’re welcome to join in this community garage sale. Drop by the Carnival’s home page to contribute your own family-related post, and visit JHS at Colloquium if you’d like to host your own carnival.