Mary, Mary Quite Contrary,

How does your garden grow?

My garden grows like a mo-fo. word up. (Mary aint the only contrarian around here these days...)*

And contrary to the nursery rhyme filled with "with silver bells and cockle(ahem?) shells and pretty maids all in a row", ours is now filled with chrysanthemums, dalias and gold crest. And, hello? OF course pretty maids. Not the cleaning kind though. pul-eeeze!

Saturday Katie and I had to entertain ourselves as Manus had to work away another Saturday.

I told him, Manus, your boss is a real ass. A real slavedriver. A real party-pooping stick in the mud. A real turdburgler.

Then he reminded me that he works for himself so I said... "yeah, I know." what was his point?

I have taken to gardening like I have to all my other crafty, hobby, pet-projects: I'm all in, gung-ho, jumping in with both feet, I am a gardening gardener who gardens. I am out there every day, watering, weeding, "tending to my flock"- if you will. I am passionate, I am dedicated, I am motivated, and just like all my other projects, there isnt a hope in hell that I am ever going to see this one through..

Currently in my "active" file are two half-finished cross-stitch patterns, THREE books that I have started and grown tired of before reaching the end, half-used tubes of Bob Ross oil paints, 6 books of B.R. painting tutorials and one canvas with painted sky and a big black blob in the foreground (shadowing - always getting stuck in the blocking part...). I was big into scrapbooking for half a second. Wanna get Manus riled up? Pull out our honeymoon album. It is fantastic, if I do say so myself. Until I quit three-quarters of the way and put it up on the top shelf. Manus asks if Im ever going to finish it and I tell him honestly -

no f***ing chance.

And oh yeah, p.s., someday this blog will just POOF! be gone... Don't kid yourself into thinking that I will keep this up. I dont know when it will happen, I just know that it will. You have been forewarned. Start the counselling now.

Because I know that I have this endearing little quality, I do take precautionary steps. My garden project was limited to the small dog-poop patch in the front of the house. And, though I had visions of a very different landscape when I went over to the DIY and garden centre, I allowed myself only to purchase plants that were on sale (and were cheap to begin with). Although I wanted the tiller that I saw the other day in a garden shop, I didnt let myself spend the money, knowing that someday quite soon that very tiller will be a discarded tool collecting cobwebs in the corner of our shed - not to mention, taking up precious tenant space.
This means that all the digging and tearing up of grass and unearthing rocks was done with these two hands and one small trowel and one of those 3 pronged hand spade thingys. Katie helped. We felt very mother-earthy. Very "one with nature". It was one of those "get your hands dirty, roll around in the mud, play Hide-the-dirt-in-your-ear, what does mud taste like?" kind of days. Well, for one of us it was. (me)

We also played "Dirt, Rock, or Dung?" as we dug in the former puppy potty. I can only hope that what is still embedded under my nails is the former rather than the latter.

Sadly, I have low hopes for the success of our garden. What do I know about growing? I killed a ficus tree. A plastic one. Why do I think that chrysanthemums, dalias and gold crest can grow together in harmony? Do they require the same amount of water? Of sunlight? Of plant food? When I was in the garden store, I saw a flyer talking about "testing your soil" before beginning to plant. That didnt sound like fun, so I didnt do it. Besides, after you take out all the rocks there isnt much soil left so I just filled the bed with compost and planted into that.

I could go out there every day and give the flowers some CO2 therapy... I can just ramble on and on and on, talking a lot and saying very little. It seems to be working with Katie... she is growing like a bad weed. If I did that though, Id have no endless, pointless rambling left to blog with... (audible sigh actually heard from within my computer)

We seem to be doing something right in the backyard at least... we have new growth!



Then and now. Remember the bare patch (circled in red)?

*As I believe that the children are our future, we should teach them well and let them lead the way. Therefore when I find something of educational value I will stick it way down here at the end, out of the way of the blathering nonsense above. The nursery rhyme, Mary, Mary quite contrary, is actually about Mary, the daughter of King Henry VIII. You can learn about it here.http://www.rhymes.org.uk/mary_mary_quite_contrary.htm

Shhhh...IT!

Literally.

I can add this blog entry as it doesn't require photos (thankfully) and Katie is in her third hour of nap. (must be jet lag from England...)

Came home last night to the welcoming sight of dog shit. No, no, my fancy plastic fencing around the front grass is not failing. The dog is now just shitting on our driveway. Thanks.
The ironic thing is that now that I am trying to grow a plant in the grass, I just scooped the poop and tossed it into the grass. Maybe I should take down the fence and eliminate the middleman.

On a related subject, I believe George W. said it best when he said, "Fool me once, shame on you....uh..duh....ya fool me, ya can't get fooled again!"

Well, I did get fooled again. Had Katie downstairs on the tile (thank god) and she was just in her diaper. So she squats down and grunts, face turning red. No surprise as to what is occurring under wraps, but, when she stands back up, a corn puff that I guess had been wedged in between her diaper and belly popped out onto the floor and I did a double take thinking she had just pooped an intact snack. After finishing my laugh which led to katie's belly laugh which led to laughing so hard we had tears, I put her down on her changing mat and proceeded to change the dirty diaper. She has had some diaper rash so I decided to let her go al fresco for a while. A few moments later, "ppfffft, ahhhh" She actually sighed after farting. What a sign of the little lady she is to become! But that had us laughing again. I guess I was laughing too much to learn a lesson. What does a fart like to precede? yup.

I looked at my naked baby on the floor, confused as to what she was sitting on. I could see something between her legs and as I circled her, saw it was also coming from behind. No, correct that, it was coming from her behind.

Manus was laughing at this point but I no longer was. I was yelling at him to not "just stand there, get a friggin paper towel!!" The hilarity of the moment was lost on the poor man when he realized that, yes, I did want him to clean it up. "and scrub that grout.. Its not supposed to be brown!"

To quote Bob Dylan's famous hit, "How many times must the crapp'n balls fly before bare is forever banned?"

And lastly on this fabulous topic, I really have been working on my potty mouth as Katie is entering the stage of mimicry, but I was wondering, is there such thing as potty brain? Is it okay to think, "mother fucking shit on a fucking crapper!" if I only say, "golly- gosh darnit that sure is a shame"?

Bed, Box and Beyond

Our new bed arrived today! It is magnificent and it is LARGE. We asked for, ordered, and paid for a King sized bed. Yesterday I went out and bought a king size sheet set and king size mattress cover. I then washed, dried and ironed (yeah right) said bedclothes so they would be ready for the big day.
As we were making the new bed, something became strikingly apparent. They delivered a SUPER KING bed. 30 cm more of back-supporting double-coil goodness. But the damn sheets wont fit. Its a good thing I got the El Cheapo cotton-poly blend. I went back out today for proper fitting sheets and spent 100 euro on the only superking sheet set I could find. This stuff is 300 thread count, so if we are paying by the thread, its not too bad a deal.

At this rate, I think we would give our last dollar for a good night's sleep. And just when you think we just might get it...

This is the scene from our bedroom window. This morning they fired up their engines at 7:30am. Please don't let them work on Saturdays..

My mom sent us a box that arrived today. I told her its like Xmas, Easter and my birthday all rolled into one when a package arrives. Goodies for everyone! Katie got a new doll and really cute outfits. She got a pair of turquoise daisy dukes that I wish fit me sooo bad. A shot glass that though I dont believe was intended for her, Katie has commandeered and is eating her puffs out of it. She knows I got something good, but I wont share my peanut M&Ms! Manus got a box of Breathe-Right nasal strips but he doesnt know it yet. I got my 3 lipfinity "modern" lipsticks that I'd bought on e-bay. Yes, that's right Laura, I went and STOLE them right from under your nose. That's what you get for turning me on to a discontinued product. And, they were only 3 bucks each! In fairness however, the online store had 5 tubes for sale, so there should be 2 left.

And perhaps the best part of these boxes are the past two months of People magazine. I could die a happy woman. I devour each issue. I dont really even care about celeb gossip, but it is so good to get a few words about home. Now if only I could lock myself in the bathroom with one or two... heaven!

So, needless to say, thanks mom for all our gifts. They really make my day.

Manus has been working hard to get our lawn looking nice. He sprayed for weeds and the other day we went around digging them up. Now our lawn looks a set design for Groundhog Day 2.

Before and After

Maybe the weed killer killed a little more than the weeds. I got lawn seed today so we shall sow the seeds of success this summer. We need to buy fertilizer. Manus said that is what our compost bin is for but we realized only the other day that we have had it upside down and when we turned it over it unleashed an unholy terror of a smell. I will not be spreading that out on the grass.

My gardening project has been to find a way to keep the damn shitter dog next door from shitting in our front yard. (perhaps we should let him go wild in our back yard..)

So far, so good. Two poop-free days and counting...

I'm in a self-righteous funk these days. I need some direction in my life. Still no word from the Nursing Board. I sent a large packet of info pleading my case for educational reciprocity. The assessor had it for a week now with my request for him to call me after he reviewed it. I will call and harass on Monday. Manus is bearing the brunt of my frustrations... He said to me that he will have to work tomorrow (Saturday) and instead of feeling bad for him I muttered, Oh that's just great. He said, Why? Do I have plans? No. But that is not the point. He is meeting with our landlord this evening to iron out our plans for next year. I said, Oh that's great. He said, why? Did I want to do something tonight? No. But that is not the point. I dont think I can explain it to him.... (Can someone explain it to me?) Manus said, you know... it seems like lately I cant do right no matter what I do. And I said, You are absolutely right.

We have our tickets to the states bought. Our trip itinerary is as follows:

Sept 10-15 Charlotte, NC
Sept 15-Sept 23 Miami, FL
Sept 23-Oct 15 Sacramento, CA
Oct 15-Oct 24 Miami, FL
Oct 24-Oct 26 San Francisco, CA
Oct 26-Nov 18 Sacramento, CA
Nov 18-Dec 2 Miami, FL

Adjust your schedules and rearrange your lives accordingly.

Time to put the sheets in the dryer. Have a happy weekend.

The Mom Chronicles. Chapter 3

I've long ago resigned myself to the fact that I will never go to the bathroom alone. And in some ways I think it is entirely fair. I sit and watch Katie as she makes her 'grunts and grimaces' face, why shouldn't she be allowed to look at mine?

They say that every kid has their own 'poop face' and Katie's... man, what can I say about it? It's not pretty, but you have no doubt as to what she is doing.

I've even found myself mimicking some of her gesticulations hoping my output would be as grand as some of hers. Of course, I chew my food so it will never be exactly the same.

This discovery of toddler behavior and subsequent acceptance occurs alongside the blossoming of toddler curiosity. I realize and accept that Katie wants to get into EVERYTHING, ALL THE TIME. She has a distinct, though I imagine not unique talent of scanning the room and zeroing in on the ONE thing she is not supposed to touch. If there are 6 plastic bottles on the table, she will go for the one glass. We have four remotes, if the stereo is what is on, the stereo remote is the one with the most interesting buttons. (if the tv is on, the tv remote is the only thing in the room worth playing with).

So, anyway, I have a bathroom monitor with me at all times. Like I said, comes with the territory. But the other day I discovered the true dangers in co-toileting.

As I stood upon finishing my business, in the split second between hiking up my pants and swiveling to flush I hear "Plop!" and there is Katie, who in the short time it took me to pee has removed everything off the bathroom shelves we have from hairbrushes to Q-tips ('ear buds' here), but here is Katie, little head peering over the rim to see just what does happen to a tube of toothpaste when it is submerged in the basin.

Ugh. So yes it was only pee, but a tube of toothpaste is not something you flush down and replace. No, I had to retrieve it. And we dont even have any salad tongs here.

Then, what do you do with the tube? The cap was on, but do you take the chance that there was seepage?

I'm making up a job description for motherhood. It now includes the following questions: Are you willing to touch another person's vomit? Are you willing to touch another person's poop? Are you willing to plunge your hand into a bucket of your own urine? Are you willing to do this for free?



Look what else Katie is into these days...





yup. its a tampon applicator. Fresh from the box, I swear -the possibility of a used one is more vile a thought than I can muster- but nonetheless... a disturbing image.

The Mom Chronicles

As American Mother's Day is just around the corner, I thought I would write a poem about what it means to be a mother.

You know a mom loves you

Writes your name in the sand

She doesn't even mind

when you pee on her hand.

The Mom Chronicles Volume One

"The Urine Sample"

So, Katie needed to submit a urine sample for a follow-up infection screening. Try as I might, she wouldn't just pee in a cup. She had given of her life-water in a doctor's office in Miami before our move, so when the paediatrician (nope, not misspelled here) here asked for a sample to be delivered to his office, I thought "no problem". A specimen cup changed hands and I was sent to the local chemist for a urine collection bag or 'kinder urinauffangbeutel' (again, no misspelling). Yesterday morning, rise and shine. Katie gets a bath so as to be as sterile as possible and as I opened the package containing the bag I find much to my chagrin that there are no instructions enclosed. Okay, I can do this, I am a registered nurse after all. I peel back the adhesive strips and tape my poor baby's nu-nu to a ziplock and wait for magic. And wait. I have to put a diaper over this contraption because Katie thinks she should try and pull the bag off (ouch!). Next thing you know... I see 'the face': A look of concentration, pursed lips, her face a dark shade of red and... well, needless to say, specimen contamination. Take off the bag, clean up the mess and back to the chemist for not one, but lets go with 2 more collection bags (just in case). I'll try again in the morning.



So, up again this morning. Bag on, diaper on. Downstairs for breakfast. A little shudder from Katie tells me that the lemonade stand has opened for business. (dont tell me you never heard "milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner fudge is made!"?). Well, somehow the urine went up OVER the adhesive strips (rendering them wet and useless) and out onto the diaper. Mere drips of urine only in the bag. So, we sit on the floor, diaper off and my hand making a peace sign so as to hold the bag in place with my two fingers on her inner thighs while I plead with Katie to find it in herself to stop squirming, stop trying to crawl away with the palm of my hand cupping the -absolute cutest- buttocks and show me a little PG rated "golden shower". We sit there for a good 15 minutes. I try tickling her, pressing on her belly, I even was making waterfall sounds with my mouth.



Well, I guess pushing on the belly did something, because next thing you know...that's right... The FACE.



It was all I could do to move my hand and watch in horror as my sweet, innocent, beautiful baby girl POOPED ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR.



As I was cleaning the floor I thought to myself.... I am a mother. In ALL its glory.



In the end, the THIRD bag was applied and I sat holding her, pouring water and apple juice down her throat and finally got the goods.

So help me if we need another test.



And now for your daily dose. (worry not... no pictures we taken today)

"I love you, grandma!!"