They are cute for a reason.

I had a post all ready to go but it looks like it will have to wait a little while. I had five minutes where I didn't need to get anything for anybody and I thought I'd write something. It was going to be good, believe me. As soon as I sit my happy ass down it's as if the 5 year old can sense something is amiss. It doesn't matter that mere seconds ago she was perfectly content playing a video game downstairs by herself. Out of nowhere she decides she is lonely and it's the moment I sit down to relax for five fracking minutes. It's no wonder I have to manually separate my jaw from my top molars. I do it without realizing it and I'm ruining my teeth. I'm not at perma-frown status yet but sometimes I wonder when that is next.

"My parents never smiled... because I had brain damage. My wife and I don't smile because our children are LOADED with it. Oh, my parents smile now, whenever they come over to the house and see how much trouble I'm having. Oh, they have a ball! "Havin' a li'l trouble, huh, son?"- Bill Cosby

War and Peanuts

It's that time again. My turn has come to bring a snack to preschool. Never have I felt more disappointed for my daughter then when I had to choose between Soy Mango Vanilla Ice Cream or Pretzels for her birthday. We choose the soy stuff and she claimed to have liked it. Sure, you can try to jazz it up a little with some sprinkles but it's not the same. The snack list is absurdly limited and selfishly I admit, I have a problem with it. Among the laundry list of allergies there are the usual dairy items but also a few stranger ones like chocolate and cheddar cheese. The best "Ch" foods have been forbidden. Cast out of the classroom like some sort of pox. As I came to realize when I brought in our sorry excuse for birthday treats there is also a mango allergy. Luckily, the child had her own snack for just such occasions. Which brings me to my problem. Why can't these children do this regularly? When I was a kid those that couldn't partake in our class snack had a whole box of their own specially formulated treats that Mom or Dad brought in at the beginning of the year. Of course, these children were typically outcasts anyway but that is just not the point I'm trying to make here. Is it because these allergies are just that severe that if a peanut is even brought into the classroom someone's ribcage will collapse?

I know the real reason is because no one wants to be left out. No little kid wants to have a cupcake set down in front of them only to be taken away when realized they are allergic to the paper that surrounds it. Preschool isn't the appropriate venue for learning about life's disappointments just yet. 1st grade will do a terrific job in due time.

Chunkenstein

Yesterday was Alice's half birthday and also her scheduled well visit and immunizations. I decided that I would get the flu shot that day in order to really feel her pain. I believe I can be a better support system when I am the other crying baby in the room. She was weighed in at a very healthy, very chunky 19 lbs 10 oz. Her thighs are so big that it's getting harder to strap her in to her car seat. I've already threaded the seatbelt into the "Your baby is too fat for this" slot and I'm still having problems. It doesn't help that she is also a cloth diapered child so that certainly adds to the girth. I'm not actually complaining though. She's the cutest little (big?) thing ever.

More?

My breakfast confuses me. The package of cinnamon raisin bread boasted there were 50% more raisins. I'm curious where they came up with that figure. 50% more than what? I can only assume they mean from 'before'. So, does that mean there were only a 50% ratio to begin with and they were short changing me all these years? Denying everyone more raisins and rationing them like squirrels hoarding nuts? But that then begs the question 50% ratio of what? Raisins to bread? Half raisins, half bread? Now that there is 50% more I know I'm not getting 100% of raisins. That would be just a raisin. No bread. Let's say there were 100% of raisins originally and now they have added 50% more. Nobody needs that many damn raisins.

Oh well. Now I have a headache and my toast is getting cold.

Rising up.

I saw a show recently on Discovery about Mental Time Travel or in other words, thinking. There were psychologists and scientists both trying to prove that time travel is possible. They said to think back to your early days and you can discover truths about yourself now that you didn't know were there. I sat down and gave this "thinking" a try and came up with a set of memories from my childhood.

My earliest memory is my father accidentally kicking me in the head as he dismounted the bike we were both riding on. I believe I was three. It's all just downhill from that point. I remember the various spots on the carpet in our apartment in Prospect Heights that were stained with my barf. You're welcome. I also remember the car accident my family was in when I was four that had resulted in me going through Aural Glass Extraction. I made that term up for myself because it just sounds too gory to explain to someone I had glass sucked out of my ear. I came up with the memory of the first time I was called a "bitch". It was on the playground at school by a little turd named, Danny. I laughed at him when he fell on his butt after careening off the slide. I was seven.

As I sat back and mentally time traveled I shuddered at all of the embarrassing and just plain boring memories I came up with. My mind is such an a-hole. So, in order for me to put aside all of the uncomfortable thoughts I was having I decided to put in some home movies. I know for a fact that nothing embarrassing will pop up there and make me hide under a blanket. Those tapes have been burned in a ritualistic manner years ago. I saw my family opening presents on Christmas in our old barf stained apartment. It was 1988 and we were so happy and ridiculously dressed. My parents didn't care about the stains on the carpet. No one called me a name. We were happy. I watched everything on that tape and it felt good. I teared up when I saw my Nana but still poked fun at her choice of eyewear. I realized that my memories were much different than what my childhood was really like. Of course you'll think about all the terrible and awkward moments that seem to define you, but they don't. I know I'm not a bitch, and Danny is probably a drug addict now. Everything evens out in the end.

Eats, Shoots and Leaves.

Skimming at a fifth grade level.

Everyone loves lists. It's a fact. There are lists for everything from top ten places to see before you die to the top ten places to see after you die. I can't say for sure what the appeal is with reading lists but I can guess it's popular with busy types or anyone with ADD. When you want your daily blog fix but you neither have the time nor the sustainable interest, a list with bold titles is the way to go. Pictures are a plus as well. Lists are a skimmer's dream and a satisfying way to squeeze in that extra bit of criticism to get you through the day.

I present to you now, "How Erin reads a top ten list".

10. Yes, I like this choice for the number ten spot. I will read on.

Oooh, look at the wittle kitteh kat. This is going to be a fun paragraph to read. Eh, too long. And, I'm done.

I don't want to read about you anymore.

9. A not so interesting choice for this spot. I'll skip this one.

8. Meh. I'll give this a few sentences to redeem itself.

The Large Hadron Collider (LHC).... I'm already yawning.

7. Are they kidding? They picked this?

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And so on and so forth. To be honest I'm getting bored of this post about lists. Although maybe if I were to encounter one somewhere on the internet that had both kittens and The Large Hadron Collider listed I'd give it the old college try.