The life of boobs

I was looking at my body tonight wishing that I had a better figure and thinking about how boobs migrate shift over time.  This made me think of some of my first memories of my own boobs and when I realized I was becoming a woman. 
I remember writing my mom a note asking if I could start wearing a bra.  I threw it at her in her chair and ran away to my room embarrassed.  I'm guessing I was hoping she would just write back....she didn't.  I remember the knot in my stomach when I heard her softly knock on my bedroom door.  My mom is a great mom.  She didn't let me grow up too fast. She told me that I wasn't old enough yet but it wouldn't be long until I was ready for first training bra. During that talk she mentioned something about not needing a bra until I could hold a pencil under my "breast" .........Ummmm......excuse me, What??? What did that even MEAN?????  This made NO sense to me.  Shouldn't I get a training bra to train for this great pencil challenge?
That conversation has haunted me stuck with me over the years.  What was the pencil tests origin??? Who on earth thought of this little boob test and why a pencil?  So, what the hell?  Standing there in my bathroom this evening I grabbed a pencil...no, I'm not a math genius but I know that test would be worthless!.....I wrote down some thoughts on boobs.
I give you: The Life of Boobs*:

• When a girl becomes a woman she has perky little breasts that don't sag, stand up at attention and look pretty. She has a hard time filling a bra.
• When a woman becomes a mother she gets gigantic, fabulous breasts that can move mountains.  She has a hard time staying in a bra.
• When a mom is...well..a run down, haggard shell of the vibrant woman she use to be she gets has what appears to be flesh colored bean bags that have somehow lost at LEAST half of the beans. But the bottom of the saggy bag is still somewhat firm.  She has a hard time finding a clean bra what with all the laundry.
• When a grandmother is born she has the chest of a small child and  there are two little, deflated, squishy sacks of boob left on each side of her belly button.  She doesn't give a shit about a bra.

*Information gathered from my own personal experience as a woman and as a nurse's aid in the nursing home where, depending on personal preference, I would help shove old, tired boobs into bras or let them hang free.
Also, based on my experience, I am confident in saying The Life of Balls would be quite similar to The Life of Boobs....but I'm not going to write that one. ;)

Children of the corn?

Brad and I like to watch ghost stories and paranormal stuff to try to scare ourselves into...I don't know what...we just like to be scared I guess.  Recently Luka started having sleep terrors and Brad has been using this to try to scare me. There's a teeny, tiny nagging fear in my soul that he likes to keep poking at with hints of paranormal activity in our house. 
Let me explain what it's like when Luka does his thing.  First, you're awaken by a shrill scream that could wake the dead.  Then you run to your baby's side to comfort him and his eyes are only half open and he freaks out if you touch him yelling "NO! NO!".  You have to sit there like a creeper waiting for his head to spin or him to hurl split pea soup all over the bed.  Once he wakes up, he looks at you like you're nuts for being in the room, hugs you and goes right back to sleep.  NOT NORMAL.
Last night, after the kids were in bed and Nadia was asleep, Luka kept coming out of his room trying to sneak around the house.  When we would come out to check on him he would be as still as possible hoping that we wouldn't see him and send him back to his room.  This is the opportunity Brad pounces on.  "That kid is just sitting there, starring at the wall.  He's possessed."  He says it with the look on his face that says he only kind of kidding.  Why does he mess with me like that?  I remember doing that crap with Matthew and Hannah when we were little!  But when Brad suggests that Luka is possessed it freaks me out! Possessed kids: the scariest shit EVER!  I'll tell Brad that Luka is just hiding from us so he won't have to go to bed and Brad will respond with, "Oh no, that kid is talking to his "new friend".  He's messed up Sarah." again with his half smirk.  Ass.

The other thing he likes to do is point out how creepy kid's toys are at night.  If the kids leave a random toy out, Brad will swear to me that it moved on it's own or that it's watching us.  Seriously, there is something so creepy about a random kid toy looking right at you in the dark!

Last night our bedroom door shut all by it's self.  I checked on the kids afterward  and they were both completely asleep.  We did have the windows open...yea, that's what it was...the wind.  Not the anime My Little Pony that was standing outside our door...WATCHING US SLEEP!

New uses for old meds

I had a dry patch on my chin for a few weeks and no matter what I used, it would not go away.  Finally, I found the miracle cure:  diaper cream!  Why would I put diaper cream on my face you ask...I say, why NOT? (I once had a co-worker tell me to take my baby's pee soaked diaper and wipe it on my face for a beautiful complexion...pee diaper? No. Diaper cream? Sure!) The diaper cream worked great and there is no more dry spot on my chin.



Modeling my mom's 1960's sunglasses, notice the dry patches.

Actually, I have a history of using creams/ointments that are meant for one type of ailment to cure something completely different.. My dive into pharmaceutical experimentation began when I was in grade school. I grew up in Kansas and we had a LOT of mosquitoes.  I fricking HATE mosquitoes.  HATE.  They hate me too...or love me.  They bite me more and I swear they make me itch more than anyone I know.  I also get giant welts from the little bastards.  Did I mention I hate them?

This is Luka's arm but mine look like this.  Not cool.

One summer when I was still in grade school I had been bitten into insanity.  I was determined to cure the painful itching, and calamine lotion was not cutting it.  I dug into my parents medicine cabinet and started to experiment.  I tried triple antibiotic ointment and all the usual suspects, nothing helped.  Then I picked up a small tube of ointment with a big "H" on it. Yes...it was THAT "H".

Here is what it said:

Coats to prevent further irritation, itching and discomfort from hemorrhoids

Shrinks swollen hemorrhoidal tissue

Protects irritated hemorrhoidal tissue

Relieves external and intrarectal discomfort

Apply to the affected area up to 4 times daily, especially at night, in the morning or after each bowel movement. For Intrarectal Use: Before applying, remove protective cover from applicator. Attach applicator to tube. Lubricate applicator well, then gently insert applicator into the rectum. Thoroughly cleanse applicator after each use and replace protective cover. Also apply ointment to external area.
I didn't know what rectums, hemorrhoids or bowl movements were and I was completely clueless about the word Intrarectal but it sounded perfect for a bunch of itchy mosquito bites.  It had an awesome applicator too!  It was a long tube with little holes all up and down so when you squeezed the tube the ointment came out like little happy worms!  Amazing right?!?!?   I was thrilled to take that tube and rub it all over my neck, arms and legs.  (What the hell?!?!?!)  It worked great.  I used up that whole tube (up to 4 times daily) and every time I used it, I was so excited to use that awesome applicator.  I took the empty tube and applicator to my mom and asked her why on earth she had not shared this secret mosquito bite ointment with me before....
I honestly don't remember her response.  I only remember the overwhelming feeling of mortification. It has to be my most embarrassing memory ever (and I fell down an entire flight of bleachers at high school graduation).  Now-a-days I just use Off! and try to avoid the bites all together.  Even when I do get bitten I can't bring myself to use Preparation H, the memory is just too humiliating.

In your face!

For the last few days I have been wondering what I would write for my next blog post.  Nothing exciting unusual has happened since the Water World trip and things have felt pretty normal around here.  Until today....you knew it wouldn't last.  So here's the latest.  We went on a little trip to the library today and while we were there Luka needed to pee.  (And here we go!)  He is much too short to pee like a man and his aim isn't even great when he's sitting.  Seriously, who knew having a tool to pee could be tricky?!?  Well, we have a little public toilet system where he hops on, leans all the way forward and holds on to me for support while I squat down in front of him.  I can't see him actually peeing but the system seems to work. 
We got to the bathroom and assumed the position.  After a moment Luka looked up at me giggling.  I could tell something wasn't working right but I didn't know what.  I told him to finish up and when he looked at me again his face was dripping, his hair was wet and all of the sudden it hit me.  Literally.  From right between his little legs was a steady and strong stream of warm pee all over us!  He couldn't stop and I couldn't move!  I can only imagine how loud I was screaming for him to stop and "push it down! PUSH IT DOWN!".  We walked out soaked from head to toe. 
When we got to the car I pushed down his jeans and underpants to keep his car seat dry on the trip home; we got home they were so wet I couldn't pull them up.  So I had the best time watching him try to get back into the house! 

Did I mention it's been raining all day?

So the next time I'm worried I won't have anything to write about, I'll just be patient and wait for "it" to hit me in the face.  I am coming to terms with the fact that I write a gross blog. There's nothing romantic or exciting about it.  Although, I am looking forward to the excitement it will cause when my kids and their friends are old enough to read!!! Also,  I am not above using these blog posts and pictures as leverage against my kids in eight or ten years.

Do Not Swallow the Pool Water

For Easter, Luka got tickets from his Godparents to take the whole family to Water World.  I love the water, the kids love the water...Brad hates the water.  I give Brad a lot of crap about hating the water because I love it sooooo much.  As soon as we got there he started putting limits on things he would do.  First and foremost he would not go on any ride where he might be splashed in the face.  I scoffed.  He pulled me aside and gave me a serious talk about how many people poop in the water at places like this, "Seriously, it's full of fecal matter!" he told me.  Yes...Brad says fecal matter instead of "poop" if he's forced to talk on the subject.  I think he likes to make it sound as bad as it makes him feel when he has to think about it.  Just the word poop, as he says it, seems to leave some sort of  poop taste as it slides off his lips.

A sign at Water World

This is what Brad sees every time he looks at a swimming pool...every time.

I always just push the thought of fecal matter in the pool out of my mind and assume there's enough chlorine in the water to choke a horse.  I will never be able to do that again.  After a fun day of water rides, slides and swimming we were taking a snack break.  Nadia was exhausted and laid down right on the concrete and passed out.  Brad was taking pictures of that cuteness while Luka and I were chatting over pudding cups. 

Luka got up from the table and as he stood up he said to me, "I pooped! I stepped in poop!"  I looked down and it looked like he had stepped on a small green piece of goose poop.  I thought it was strange that he would find the ONE piece of goose poop in the entire park to step on but... that's my boy!  Then he moved his foot again and there was a big glob of sandy mud stuck to his foot so I chalked the goose poop up to being mud.  On that note, I decided to take the kids and get them showered and changed in the bath house before we went home.
I made Brad go with me and as soon as we got into the bath house, he was completely disgusted.  The floor was covered in water that sloshed over your flip-flops and it didn't smell very sweet.  I was grossed out too but I didn't complain, I didn't want to gross out the kids and make it harder to change them.  I stripped down Luka first and he had sand in his pants....????  What the hell?  There was no sand at Water World!  A nice little turd rolled out onto the floor with a small splash and instantly I flashed back to the goose poop and "sandy mud glob" on his foot.  Oh. My. Gosh!!  REALLY?????  It started to break up around my feet and the turd was turning into fecal matter right before my eyes!!!  I instantly started having flashbacks of each and every time I had been splashed in the face.  Each time I got a little bit of water in my mouth!  Splish. Splash. Frickety-Splash. Right in the face.  Brad took pictures and video of me, the turd and Luka while he laughed his ass off.

Matter... fecal matter.

I am a mom so my quick thinking took over and the rest is a blur.  I do remember picking up what was left of the turd with toilet paper and flushing it.  (The people who would come in after us would have no clue what was in the water splashing over their flip-flops.) I used almost all of the hand soap in the bath house, I soaped down Luka, my feet and my shoes.  We made it out alive.  Now all I can do is pray I don't have bad dreams and  wait to see if I get pink-eye....and live with the *shit* Brad will be giving me for the next hundred years.