Perhaps my yearly birthday meltdown could have waited a week

Every year around my birthday I have a mini freak out. Nothing serious, a cartilage piercing, thoughts of a tattoo, considering Botox. This year I put purple streaks in my hair. It looks cool, I've gotten a bunch of complements this weekend.

Then I remembered I'm renewing my driver's license this week. After living with my last picture for 8 years in which I wad pregnant and had about 4 chins, I will now have purple hair for the next decade on my license. FABU.

I think I am goingto have to break up with the Cheese Lady

I love the Cheese Lady.  She works at King Soopers in the fancy dancy cheese department.  Whenever she sees me coming she shows me where the bargain blue cheese is, or cuts me a sliver so I can have my favorite cheese and only pay a small amount.  I seriously have a crush on the Cheese Lady.

Well.  The Cheese Lady done me WRONG yesterday.  In addition to cheese she is also in charge of the olive bar, where you can buy olives, hummus, roasted red peppers, etc.  You can also buy roasted garlic there.  Adrian bought some of said garlic and ate it last night.

Oh my God people.  I thought I was going to DIE.  I'm not sure if it wasn't roasted properly, or if it was the quantity that he ate, but the stench coming off of him last night was making my eyes water.  It was literally coming out of his skin.  Just from breathing there was this green cloud hanging over his head.  I was hiding under the blankets because he kept trying to breathe on me and I couldn't take it.  He had brushed his teeth, but it didn't help, I suggested he gargle with lighter fluid.  Finally he went to the guest room to work and I told him he could only come back if he promised to not exhale. 

About 10 minutes after he left my eyes were still burning and watering and I got up and opened the windows and sprayed some room spray.  Except the garlic was so bad the spray didn't cut it and it ended up smelling like garlic and fake pineapple which is NOT a good combination.

And on top of all of that, Rhoda helped herself to something that Tommy was eating for dinner and had the stinks last night too.   I am just lucky I survived the night.  Seriously.

Second grade homework might be the end of me

Now that we are a couple of weeks into the school year, homework has started to become part of our nightly routine. Apparently the actual word "homework" has become debatable in our house:

Me: Do you have homework?

Tommy: No. But I have to finish a writing sheet that I didn't get done at school.

Me: OK, so you DO have homework.

Tommy: It's NOT HOMEWORK! It's a paper I didn't finish at school.

Me: Well, you brought WORK HOME to do, so it's HOMEWORK.

Tommy: No it's NOT!

I felt like we were having a "who's on first" conversation. I now phrase my questions differently:

Me: Tommy, did you bring any kind of work home from school that needs finished before tomorrow?

Tommy: Yes, but it's NOT homework!

Yesterday he brought home actual homework. Every week there is a packet for spelling and he has to learn the words, how to spell them and he has to write them in sentences.

I'm a little concerned. Last year one of his words was big and he wanted to write "My mommy has a big butt". I told him that wasn't appropriate, can you imagine? So far this year the words have been pretty innocent, but if he comes home with Vodka or Hookah on his spelling list I am screwed.

I could have sworn I gave birth to a BOY

But this morning you could have fooled me. We are having some very cool weather here in Colorado and Tommy actually needed to wear pants to school today. Nana and Papa bought him some school clothes, including some new jeans. If you know my child, you know he is a toothpick. He's about a size 6 in the waist and a 10 in length so it's quite challenging to buy him long pants. My mom found some Shaun White Skinny Jeans that actually fit and bought him 3 pairs. I got them out today for him to wear. The conversation went like this:

Mom: Put on those pants. I adjusted the waist, if you need help, come find me

Here he comes and they are around his thighs. I apparently made them too tight, so I fixed them.

Tommy: These are too loose, I don't like them, they are falling down!

I tightened them again.

Tommy: I hate these pants, my underwear shows in the back.

Mom: Your shirt is long and covers the back, your underwear don't show.

Tommy: Kids will see my underwear and make fun of me!!!

Mom: No one is going to see your underwear, calm down.

Tommy: They are too loose, they are too tight, wah wah wah

Mom: They are too loose AND too tight? Explain yourself!

Tommy: They are too loose in the back and the legs are too tight I COULDN'T BEND OVER TO PUT MY SOCKS ON!!! I HATE THESE PANTS!!! NANA SHOULDN'T HAVE BOUGHT THEM!!!! I want to wear my old pants!!!

Mom: Your old pants are too short, you can't wear them.

Tommy: WELL I'LL JUST WEAR TALL SOCKS THEN!!!

Um...yeah, because THAT will eliminate the "waiting for a flood look".

Finally with some coaxing, coercion and flat out bribery, I got him to school. This afternoon when I picked him up he said "these pants feel good, Nana doesn't need to take the other pairs back".

Oh my goodness...I should count my lucky stars that he's NOT a girl!

An observation

I'd like to start off by saying my husband will hate this blog, so Adrian, if you're reading, turn back now. This blog is about the subject of which we do not discuss...

As you know, I'm known as Heidi Dater People Hater. People just irritate me. I’ve thought a lot about it and I might be irritated all of the time because I don’t poop. My 8-pound dog poops twice a day without fail. I’m an over grown person and I can’t go but once every 10 days or so.

Now, if you think about it that’s about 40 times a year. Can you imagine if I were a man? That just wouldn’t be acceptable. It means I would miss reading the sports page 325 days out of the year.

My mom has a friend who thinks a big dump in the bathroom is the solution to what ails you.. You have a headache? Go poop, you’ll feel better. Stressed at the office? Hit the crapper and all will be well. Mad at your husband, drop a deuce and your problems are solved. Nope, not for me.

I’ve tried everything too. More fiber, more coffee, more greens, more fruit, less iron, you name it, I’ve tried it. On a recent trip to Las Vegas I accidentally discovered Vodka is a laxative. Yep. After 11 vodka cocktails spaced out throughout the day, I had to go. It’s the witching hour, people are stumbling around drunk, missing shoes and various articles of clothing and it’s the best time to be people watching, and I’m missing it because I “have to go”.

So now I’ve found a remedy, but how feasible is it to drink 11 vodka’s each day? Even every other day? Can you imagine the drive to work, client meetings, teacher conferences? It’s a whole new reason for AA to exist. Hi, my name is Heidi D and I’m an alcoholic because I can’t poop and I use vodka as a laxative. Can I get a sponsor? Can you hear that conversation now? I’m sorry Mr. Sponsor, I really had to poop so I downed a fifth...that would be such an AA FAIL!