WOLF! WOLF! COME QUICK!

I'm feeling a bit like the boy who cried wolf. Except I'm not a boy. And I didn't cry wolf. I cried, "Turn on your VCRs because I'm going to be on the news tonight!" For those of you, who tuned in, thank you and I'm sorry it didn't air again tonight. For those of you who missed it, well, you didn't actually miss it after all.

My toddler had been running around like a monkey on fire all day. Why is it that a toddler (and this really isn't exclusive to toddlers) can sit there watching TV, looking at a book, or playing with a toy and then suddenly, as if they were just poked in the butt with a pitch fork, they'll jump up and scream and take off like a shot? It's as if, out of nowhere, they become possessed and turn into raving lunatics for a few minutes (or hours, if you're so lucky.) The sweet child who was intently watching a video two seconds ago is now running through the house at warp speed and yelling in a foreign toddler language at the top of his lungs. Is this just a stress reliever? Is it to fight boredom? I think I'm going to try this the next time I'm at a boring PTA or church meeting. I'm just going to jump up in the middle of a dull speech and run across the room screaming, AAAAAAAEEEEUEUUURRRRGHGHGIIIIEEYYYYY!!! That should give everyone the proof they need to send me away for a nice long vacation in the nut house.

It wasn't just my toddler acting like a wackadoo today. My baby had to get in on the act too. She never stopped whining which wasn't so bad until she attached herself to my leg so I had to drag her everywhere I walked. Still, it was fine for the first, oh say, five hours and then I snapped. "That's it! We're getting out of here!" We headed to the library. I'm not sure about the kids, but I needed a change of scenery. I was obviously not getting any writing done at home anyway.

So, I went to the library this afternoon and bought my very own water damaged copy of Just Going to the Dentist. I joke that I've paid enough fines over the years to finance a new wing at the library. Today I walked in to see that they really are doing construction on the building. I knew it!

At the library, we picked out a few new books to buy borrow, then the kids hit the play area while I sat down to people watch. So often, I'm in a hurry when I stop at the library or the park or wherever. I feel like I'm forever telling my kids, "Not today. Not now. We're in a hurry. C'mon let's go!" I was so happy to be able to sit down and relax and give the kids something new to play with and let them have fun exploring the different toys. I had no plans of leaving until it was time to pick the older kids up from school. Then I smelled something. The baby had picked that time to fill her diaper. No problem. I'll just change her diaper and....oh no. I didn't bring any diapers with me. No diaper bag at all. No purse. Just my library card and my keys.

I make fun of the new moms who pack the entire nursery into their diaper bags just to go for a walk around the block. Well, here I am with nothing. I've been packing diapers for almost thirteen years straight and yet didn't think to bring one today. I could either stay there, let them continue to play, offer the other patrons gas masks, or I could disappoint them again and drag them home. I dragged them home with the promise that we could play at the park when we picked the older kids up from school.

Remember to always, always pack a diaper (well, I guess you don't have to do this if your kids are in high school). And remember to sometimes curb the urge to say, "Not now. We don't have time," and replace it with, "Let's play!"

ONE MILLION!

One million is the number of hits I've had on this blog in just over a month!

One million is the number of diapers I've changed in the past (almost) thirteen years. Ok, so maybe I haven't changed quite a million, but I figure at a conservative 4 diapers a day, and an average of 3 years per child (except for Brooklyn who has only had 1 1/2 years of diaper changes), I've changed over 24,000 diapers. I was going to figure out how much I've spent on diapers, but I decided it would probably be too depressing. And don't bother to write and tell me that I should've used cloth diapers because there was NO WAY I was going there.

One million is the amount of money it cost for Lee Majors bionic arms. (The rest of his body was five million, of course.)

One million is the number of months I've been pregnant or breastfeeding. Again, perhaps I'm exaggerating just a tiny bit. Let's see... I guess it's about 103 months, or roughly 8 1/2 years.

One million is the number of pieces that fall in The Newsboys' song (on the right of this blog.)

One million is the number of times my son has told me that he's bored today.

One million is the number of cribs recalled by Simplicity/Graco. Have you heard about this? If I understand correctly, this is their third recall of cribs! The number of children's products recalled recently is ridiculous. Not only did children die/get seriously injured in these cribs, but the manufacturer apparently took more than two years before recalling the defective beds. If you have one of these cribs, stop using it immediately and please pass this information along to anyone you know who may have one of these cribs. This recall includes models that were manufactured as far back as nearly ten years ago! Anyone could have one of these, could have passed one on to a friend or relative, or could have one packed away.
I don't have this problem as my baby is a spoiled brat who has all of us wrapped around her little finger and she sleeps with me. Shhhh.

One million is the number of calories I've consumed today.

One million is the number of times my daughter has asked me to get her some shampoo today.

One million is the number of times I've told my son to settle down in the last hour.

One million is the answer to this problem D { ( f (x) ) ² } = 2f (x) D { f (x) } = 2f (x) f ' (x). Ok, so I don't really know the answer to this problem. In fact my eyes started to bleed when I looked at it. But I'm pretty sure it could be one million. I hope nobody actually likes math enough to figure this problem out just for fun, (math/fun, now there's an oxymoron!) but I somehow know that I'll get a comment tomorrow with the answer.

One million is the number of tears my son has cried over his "best friend" Bahama, the hermit crab.

The gravestone that my oldest son made for Jackson's crab. He found the wood in the garage and covered it with White Out for that lovely antiquey look.

His little coffin

The baby saw Jackson crying and kept walking over and giving him hugs. Awwwww.

Of course, a little later, she climbed up onto the kitchen table and nearly bit Jackson's hand off trying to get to the Cheerios from him, but hey, you take the good with the bad, right?

Diapers Only Hold so Much Before They.....

Hey there! I knew you guys would like the supper swapping idea! I hope those of you who give it a try are successful and gain a little extra time and a little less stress at the dinner table. I know Trish has answered a lot of your questions in the comments. Just scroll through them quickly until you see the really loooooong comments. Those are from Trish. I'll try and reprint them in a post later this week so they're more easily accessible. Remember the contest will run until midnight on Friday and if you leave a comment on yesterday's You Mean I Only Have to Cook One Night? post, I'll enter your name in a drawing for one of Trish's books, The Great American Supper Swap.

A camera crew from ABC is coming over tomorrow to film and interview me for World News with Charles Gibson. Tonight I really should be cleaning. Or thinking of clever things to say to the reporter. Or perhaps getting some sleep. Or losing 50 pounds. Or begging my children to behave tomorrow morning. Instead I'll be cleaning out my washing machine. I know, you're thinking 'what a strange thing to do when she's going to be on national t.v.' Cleaning out my washing machine wasn't my first choice of activities, however I inadvertently washed a diaper. I'm not talking about the cloth kind either. I'm talking about a disposable, super-mega absorbent, nighttime, pull-up kind of diaper. SpongeBob couldn't hold as much liquid as this thing did. Then, much like all good things, it had to end. It exploded. In my washer. It left behind a trail of sticky gel-like material and fluffy diaper particles all over every article of clothing in the machine. Despite the fact that I'll run the washing machine fifty times, I'll be finding this gel stuck to surfaces in my house for months to come.