Naked is never a smart idea.

I undressed Mateo because 1. I thought he pooped, and 2. he needed to get in his PJs. He didn't poop, contrary to the smells emanating from his bottom, and he was being so goofy while naked, I let him run around his room naked and free. He was doing some jiggly dances, flashing his Daddy, and having an all around good time.

A few minutes passed and I kept asking him (he listens well, he does, that angel) to come over to me so I could put his diaper and PJs on. He had other ideas (I told you he listens well, really really well) and stood by the baby gate, shaking his chubby butt. I kept asking him to come to me. He kept ignoring me.

Then I said he better not pee.

That's when he looked down, and that's when I saw the stream.

So yes, letting your 16-month old run around naked is never a good idea. Even those who, um, listen well.

How we communicate.

I made an extraordinary amount of carnitas the other night, so we've had tacos for two nights, and my husband wanted to make machaca with the leftovers for "something different."

Now, I know, you're wondering, what is machaca? Well. Let me show you.

And if that visual doesn't do it for you, it's basically and traditionally beef cooked with eggs. So he wanted to take the pork and cook it with eggs. I said heck no, I'm so not eating pork with eggs, to which he responded, "but it's just like having bacon and eggs!"

I don't agree with that statement.

So we agreed on making quesadillas.

Today my husband IMed me and asked if I was still buying stuff for the quesadillas (we need more cheese), and if so, he was thinking we should have burritos with enchilada sauce on top of it instead. I told him yes, I was planning on buying cheese. And in response to his comment about burritos, I wrote:

ME: do we have everything you'd want for burrito insides?
HIM: hmm
HIM: i guess not
HIM: quesadillas r fine

Okay. This is what I don't understand. When I asked if we had everything he'd want for the burrito insides, I really meant, and probably should have been more clear, "what else do you want me to buy so that your burrito is the way you want it? Please give me a list of ingredients and I will happily go purchase them after I pick up Mateo." But to me the meaning was clear.

This is what I guess he read, "I'm so not going to buy anything more than just cheese because I don't want to satisfy your burrito craving, you jerk of a husband, you!!!! And while you're at it, don't even come home tonight!"

So I had to tell him that my question wasn't a loaded question and that it was not a hard question, and I just wanted to know what else he wanted. So he told me. And sadly, this is generally how we communicate with each other.

Week From H-E-L-L: 1, Husband: 0

This post has nothing to do with me. Really! Absolutely nothing. I just think it's pretty interesting to think about all the things gone awry for my husband this week. So, to memorialize them, I will list them for you to read:

1. Parked our car with baby seat in front parking lot of BART, did not tell me, so I went to the back parking lot and thought our car was stolen or towed.
2. Forgot to bring a mail scale to work - even though I told him fifty times AND right before I left to drop off Mateo at daycare to bring it, don't forget, bring it. And I had to endure eye rolls and "yes, yes" even though I knew he'd forget it.
3. Left my fabulous slow cooker lasagna meal out all night, so it and all its disgustingness was wasted. I really wasn't too heart broken about it.
4. Locked his keys in the car. Called me, but with a sleeping toddler and daycare opening up at 6:30am, I could possibly rescue him at 5:45am. AAA was called. AAA took care of him.
5. Left out my fabulous Mediterranean pasta dish, so it and all its grassy-tastingness was wasted.* I really wasn't too heart broken about it.

It's only Thursday. Can't wait to see what today and Friday bring.

*He insisted he didn't do this on purpose, and said, although I find it hard to believe, that he actually liked the meal. I said, "I didn't. It tasted too much like...." He cut me off, "...chicken?" (I'm really picky about meat and meat tastes and meat textures and meat funky bits) I said, "No. Grass. It tasted like grass."

Two things

1. I bought cold medicine that has an artic blast flavor -- these are pills you swallow. So I looked, and it explicitly states NOT to crush or chew said pills that MUST be swallowed whole. Okay. So. Why the funky flavor? I don't usually leaves pills in my mouth long enough to get any sort of flavor, unless it's a bad pill taking session and my mind has told my body I can't swallow the pill without choking and then dying. Who wants to go that way?

2. Why does it seem every year, about several times a year, the news tells us this is the LAST time to see some amazing eclipse thing. Until the year 2483, when none of us will be around?

Just thinking.

I'm feeling...rather nostalgic...like I want to air out my monkeys from my brain closet.

So the whole Jr. High dress got me thinking about Jr. High and some of the things I remember not so fondly of. For some reason unbeknownest to myself, I had (definite past tense) a tendency to become attracted to probably the ugliest and most odd boys around. This continued for some time, all the way up til Jr. College when I was stood up for a non-date to have coffee and just "talk" at a coffee shop near where I worked.

Yes, I was dumb enough to think the guy would come, even though he told me he had a girl friend.

I'll admit it, I don't have the greatest track record with guys and dating, and what little dating I did, if that's what you call it, most of the guys were just a bit off.

There was a guy in Jr. High that I remember in particular. I don't remember how we started talking, I don't remember his name (Wayne - just came to me), I don't remember much of anything about him except two things: he looked like a weird alien and he was in 8th grade. So yes, this was when I was a 7th grader and it was the pre-hussy years.

All I remember was that someone liked the other one, we sorta talked while at school, and when there was a school dance, he was there and I was there, and it was then that I decided he was way too weird looking and uncool for me to continue liking him. I'm not sure how it ended, but I am sure of this because I made a habit of doing it over and over: I just stopped talking to him. I think he gave me a note about the lack of communication between us, but I could be making that up. Granted, since I can't remember, he could have stopped talking to me. I was the one girl at my Jr. High who was told by a gym teacher that the boys ASB cards were being passed out over there. Yes, in other words, I sorta, kinda look like a boy.

Hence the fabu hairdo in 8th grade - I am female, hear me roar.

I mean, I did actually have serious crushes on really cute guys - don't get me wrong. It's not like I was a total blind rodent trying to find her way in maze known as "going" with each other. I just seemed to always attract the underdogs or the weirdos or the really ugly guys no one else would touch with a ten foot pole.

Next blog entry: Melvin aka "doc of style," heavy metal dude from art class, the stalker guy from General Cinema (he came with a crazy stalker letter I wish I had kept), usher from General Cinema who was the older brother of a girl in my HS class, two guys my husband says were in love with me but I never really thought so - oh, let's make that three guys, coffee guy.

After coffee guy, I actually got a really cute boyfriend who was several (ahem, 5 years) older than myself but who was just an 18-year old mentally. Then I found my one and only. My dear, dear hubby. I was at the ripe old age of 19 (yes, that's 15 years together, if you're counting). He wasn't weird, he was cute, he was nice although a tad surly, he was smart, he liked things I liked...he was as normal as I ever got - if you don't count that he wouldn't hold my hand in public for almost a year because I wasn't his "girlfriend" until about that time.

Ah, yes, here she is!

The innocent have been removed from this picture. One innocent was sent this picture because I'm still friends with her.

I'm particularly fond of the hairdo because it would take me HOURS to get my hair to do that since it's naturally flat with no body. Thank goodness for hairspray! And mousse. And determination. And lots of time on my hands.

Dang, I bet my husband wishes he had met me way back when. Sweet dreams, dear hubby. Dream of floppy bows and polk-a-dots.

Next segment of horrendous fashion that makes me laugh 20 years or less later: My Jr. Prom dress! When I find the picture. Me in all my iridescent glory....ah, yes.

Special thanks to mom for ransacking her photo albums, scanning this picture and emailing it to me.

I was a Jr. High hussy.

One of my friends is going on the John Mayer cruise at the end of this month, and one of the activities on board is an 80's prom party. She showed me the dress she got from etsy and while we were chatting about the accessories she could wear, I started looking at prom dresses on etsy as well.

On page 4 or 5 of the prom dress search, I came across this fabulous number:



Now, now, I know what you're thinking: I want that fabulous black and white number with polk-a-dots and a floppy black bow!

This is either the exact same dress or a very similar dress to the one I wore to my Jr. High School graduation. Not only did I wear it, but a few other girls I was friends with had the same thing or one of a different color. Apparently in 1988 it was the "hot" item as far as prom dresses go.

Now, I have to wonder, why did my mom allow her 14-year old daughter to wear this? Did I complain? Cry? Say something stupid about her hating me and not letting me dress like a bubbled hussy? And she just gave up and let me have it? Or was it not even an issue? Was she just glad that I wanted to wear something feminine?

I'm 34 now and I can't imagine wearing this to an event (not that I'll be hitting any proms soon, Mateo's only 11 months old). If I wanted to wear this, I'd definitely have to have a jacket or sweater or something to cover up. And from what I remember, I had neither when I was just a skinny youngin'.

I'm sure my mom will have some input on this matter. I think I wore this dress in to a high school dance as well. I guess that makes me a Jr. High and High School hussy.

Something is seriously wrong with me.

I'm so unlike my normal self. Usually during this time of year, when I get hit up to buy gifts for families in need, I bah hum bug it and say no. Yesterday I was told our "adopt-a-family" has a 2-week old, and because of that, I decided I was going to buy them diapers and bottles and underwear.

Then last night, we were watching ER from two weeks ago. The one where Abby loses her marbles, dips into the drink, has sex with that bald doctor guy, and the goes home to then turn around and drag her child to the airport. The whole premise of her actions is that she's missing her husband, who is in Croatia. But still. Come on. Anyway, I found it all terribly sad and wanted to cry. Then, before I could fast forward, there was a news clip of a bird covered in oil from the big oil spill in the SF bay. That made me sad. As I started to fast forward, there were two puppies being shown. So I rewound it, and it was about some man selling sick puppies. That made me sad.

At this point, after repeatedly saying, "that's soooo saaaad," my husband snickered at me.

Then I went into Mateo's room to take a dirty bottle out, and he looked so peaceful and cute, and that made me sad because he's slowly moving away from being a baby.

Hormones, anyone?

To add to the husband / TV post.

So there we were last night, trying to catch up on some of our favorite shows while Mateo was asleep. We ended our evening with watching Top Chef. Towards the end, and this is after a few hours of random questions while I was typing on my laptop, he asks, "If one of the losers went into a bank to get a loan, do you think if the loan officer knew the show and them being on the show, they'd more likely get a loan for a restaurant or business?"

????

This is what I have to contend with. He should write one of those random question books that I used to love so much as a kid/teenager.

By this time I was dead tired, sick of the questions, but still didn't want to be mean to him because he did give me the gift of sleep that same day. So I went the "I dunno" route. Just cause we work for a bank doesn't mean I want to ponder borrowing possibilities. I don't even do anything with banking for gosh darn sakes!

Am I differently-abled?

Toys R Us may think so.

And to think there are advertising firms hired to come up with these new PC terms.

This is what I thought I'd do when I moved out.

I remember discussing this topic with my sister over McDonald's on Fridays. I won't speak for her, although I'm fairly certain this all began because of her saying it, at least, that's how I remember it, but I was going to eat McDonald's all the time when I moved out and got my own place. We would discuss this on Foolish Friday, when our family would eat fast food for dinner; she and I usually splitting a glass bottle of Coke, which was part of all the foolishness going on.

So did I do this? No. I hardly ate McDonald's after a certain point in my life and haven't had it for years. And do I drink Coke all the time because now I can have it flowing like the big baller that I am? No. I don't like Coke.

I also thought I would never get married, never have kids, and live with cats and read all the time.

I can sill hear myself saying, "I'm going to eat McDonald's all the time!!" My sister, of course, agreeing with this brilliant plan.