…walking into your children’s bedroom when they are supposed to be sleeping, to find that they are indeed not sleeping.  It is the shock when your five year old boy says that he and his sister are CLEANING their room (on their own initiative).  It is thinking you should tell them to to sleep, but instead just saying "carry on" and then closing the door.

I would imagine that normal people DO go to IKEA.  Based on what I have seen, normal people do yes, frequent Ikea, and they even do it at holiday time.

But I think normal people would not take it on the word of their 3 year old that she yes, went potty already in Smaland.  Normal people would probably insist that she at least TRY to use the facilities before making the 40+ minute drive back home.

Normal people would do this, I am sure.

Normal people do not pull off of the freeway in Bellevue when the traffic is backed up, because their three year old is moaning and crying about how she has to go to the bathroom.  Normal people would realize that this is NOT a good place to exit the freeway, no matter how uncomfortable she is as there is not an easy way to get back on said freeway.  Normal people would realize that with the time spent stopped trying to exit, they could have driven a little further.  Although normal people probably don’t want pee all over the inside of their car, either, and don’t always think rationally.

Normal people, I am sure, might pull into the AM/PM looking for a toilet for their shoeless, weeping three year old.  Normal people should probably know that with just their luck, the key to the AM/PM bathroom got broken off in the lock and rendered the bathroom totally unavailable for use.

Normal people would be irritated.  Normal people would fear the traffic.  I don’t think normal people would derobe their three year old inside their van and ask her to urinate in the free cup that came with the 99 cent lunch from IKEA.  But they might.  And if they did, I am sure they would get a little nervous as the fluid in the cup came closer and closer to the rim while the flow showed no signs of stopping. 

Relief when it didn’t overflow, for the normal people, of course.  

I am not sure what the normal people would do with the pee in the cup, but I threw it in the AM/PM dumpster.  Charming thinks I should have dumped it on the ground first.  Eew.  Gross.

Happy Holidays! 

Which probably makes the people at the Home Depot pretty happy.

Actually, what I really want is to not have to come up with things that I want.  I just want my family members to come up with something themselves.  Something I may not necessarily need or want, but something that says "I thought of you.  I thought you might like this."

But since it isn’t a perfect world, here are some ideas:

Because we need to replace the ugly light. 

This would be a fun decoration: 

And I have decorations from the old house, that used to be atop my cabinets.  No room on top of the new cabinets. 

A stretch, I know.  But I still want one: 

I’ve always thought pink glassware was cute: 

This is cute too: 

I need to look professional, though: 

All that AND a kitchen sink! 

I don’t know why the nursing is such a hot topic for me right now, but here’s another tale of the lactating bosoms.

So, I am sort of past the pumping stage with Spider.  Instead, when I need relief from engorgement and I have no baby nearby, I hand express.  I have found myself doing this in public bathroom stalls when the pain necessitates it, and this evening I did a little "expression" in our own bathroom.  Spider had decided she was finished, and there was no way I could go to bed in my current state.

In walks Engineer.  

Now, Engineer is 5 and a boy.  So maybe he shouldn’t see my bosoms, or maybe it’s okay.  I just figure that nursing is a part of life and if I don’t act all embarassed about it, that he will grow up with a healthy respect of the functioning female anatomy.  At the very least, he won’t freak out when his own wife decides to breastfeed their children.

The following conversation ensued.

E:(giggling) It squirts milk!
Me: Yep.  (Pause, as I think of a devilish question to lead the witness.)  Do yours squirt milk?
E: Nope, because I don’t have big ones like yours.  I just have little ones.  (Begins unzipping his footed pajamas.)  See?  (Points to his chest).  They’re just belly buttons. 
Me: (Suppressed laughter).
E: They only work with toy babies.

And then I run to the computer to blog it.  Because even if none of you think its funny, it’s going to make for some great embarassment come the teenage years.  And that kind of blackmail is always good to have around.

Are you a member?

Until recently, I have felt like some kind of freakazoid, because I have this cute little baby-person, who walks, talks and still consumes fluid from my bosoms.  I nursed Sugar until she was 16 months old and Spider is near that age now.  But the difference was, at this age, Sugar was like a once a day nurser.  Spider, hmmm, not so much.  Spider is a nurse-a-holic.

And the other difference was that Sugar was able to keep our little "secret."  Spider does not have those kinds of inhibitions.  At very publich functions (with men, present, men I tell you) sweet little Spider will sit on my lap and then fuss and cup her little hands underneath the "beverage dispensers".  (I am trying to use euphemisms, to not attract creepos to the blog, give me a break.)  Yep, it’s an embarassing little gro*pe-fest and it becomes clear to all around that the baby is not weaned.

But the funny thing that I have found is that when she does this, other members of the "club" come crawling out of the woodwork.  "Oh, yeah, I nursed my baby until she was 2."  You?  But you are so normal and put together and… "She wants to nurse?  Oh, I am still nursing my 18 month old."  Really?

So as embarassing as Spider’s little habit is, it is kind of a good thing.  I have learned that I am not the only one to ever have breastfed a toddler.  I feel more normal.  I feel like I am still not going to announce the fact to the world, (except of course for this here internet) but that if ever one did find out, it would be okay.

Eventually.

Members of the Society UNITE! 

You put on your best party clothes, and you serve hot dogs.

Oh, how I love the Little People Christmas!

I am sitting here staring blankly at my monitor.  Knowing that I SHOULD post.  Knowing that I have things to SAY.  But not coming up with anything.

Nothing.

Because I mostly don’t know what anyone wants to hear.  OOH!  Wait, I got tagged a while back with the eight things.  Okay.  So here are eight random things about me.  (If I have 8.)

1. I’ve said it before and i will say it again.  I love to vacuum.  Why?  Instant gratification.  The dirt is there, and then it’s not.  Ahhhh.  Love it.

2. I love earning prizes.  It’s my favorite thing about my other job.

3. I am a lousy housekeeper.  It’s true.  I need a working system, and I need to be working.  My house is a mess 97.5% of the time.

4. I need to feed my children lunch.  Gotta go!  I guess I didn’t make it to 8.  Oh well.  I am a busy lady these days…  who isn’t?