Here. Hold this.

Wikipedia defines an earworm as a portion of a song or other music that repeats compulsively within one's mind, put colloquially as "music being stuck in one's head."

I am the patron frigging saint of earworms. If ever there was a reason for you to stop reading my blog, this is it, because I will pass my earworms on to you in hopes that, like the tape in The Ring, if I give you a copy of the tape (get you humming my stuck tune) then I will be free from the punishment. Make sense?

Of course, if you get them as bad as I do, this might actually be a godsend for you because you can trade your earworm for mine - I might be able to kill yours and replace it with mine.

What is especially shitty about my hyper-stuck-in-headism is that I will usually get stuck on some short, tedious, mind-numbing stanza of lyrics and 9 times out of 10 those lyrics won't even be correct! Sometimes I don't know all the words so I'll just hum what's missing, leading to even more obnoxiousness.

Sometimes, I'll get a whole medley of crap running through there and want to ram crayons into my brain ala Homer Simpson. There was this whole mash-up of P!nk songs a few weeks ago.... *shudders*

Sometimes it's not even a song! It's a word or a phrase or god forbid a unique name, again, not pronounced even remotely close to what it should be. Drives me up a wall! Doutzen Kroes?! Doubt-zen Crows. I have no idea how accurate that is but I'm sure it's not even in a neighboring galaxy but it runs through my head all the time. And could you imagine - my head nearly exploded when that Precious movie came out. Gabourey Sidibe! Gab-oorie Sid-eeb. AHHHHHH! MAKE IT STOPPPPP!!!!

Most of the time, these things get in my head at horribly inopportune times, like 2am when I'm nursing Rowan for instance. Then my insomniac self is lying there reciting the same shit over-and-over. Those first few weeks home with Rowan I left the TV on in the bedroom for light. I seriously thought I was going to blow that "freecreditreport.com" guy's head clean off. 4am and all I could think was

Freecreditreport.com
Tell your friend, tell your dad, tell your mom
Never mind they've been singing our song
Since we first showed up with our pirate hats on

Nevermind that the sound wasn't on. All I had to do was see that pirate hat on the cymbal stand and that was it.

Last night it was The Beverly Hillbillies theme song. I have maybe seen two whole episodes of that in my entire life and the last one was probably half my life ago. It was bad:

I'mma here to tell ya story bout a man named Jed
da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Barely kept his family fed

That first line is probably all wrong, I couldn't remember the second and I have serious doubts about that third one. And that's all I know of the song, so that's what went around and around and around in my head.

I don't actually have an earworm right now thankfully. Some were trying to weasel their way in there (I'm looking at you, Michael Buble song) but I am so freaking tired I can't stand myself. I chaperoned the kindergarten field trip to the science museum today, after Rowan's frequent nighttime feedings last night and sports practices tonight so I am beat. You'd think that might make me more susceptible to those sorts of things but mercifully no. I think my brain left the building an hour or so ago...

Lamaze or from a Cheerio to a Donut.

I enjoyed taking Lamaze class with the WU (Wife Unit) but unfortunately she did not always want me to be there. Why you ask? Well, because I would say stupid stuff like; "You are going to go from a cheerio to a donut in no time at all and that is when you pop out the watermelon". (We will have to label this under "face palming" because she had to do that a lot around me and still does...;^)
I am totally surprised, now that I look back on those days, that she never slapped me... ...and yes, even I know I deserved a slap or two and still give her the opportunities but alas, she never takes them so because of this I never do learn when to keep the ole yapper shut...:>)

Paging common sense!

On the way home from school one day, Marshall asks me why tractor trailers don't have signs on the back that say "Wide Left Turns." I told him that it was because every vehicle in the US makes wide left turns because we have to cut across two directions of traffic, therefore it is impossible to make a tight left turn. (I don't believe that turning from a one-way to a one-way happens often enough to matter) Don't lorries in the UK have signs on the back that say "Wide Left Turns?"

Either way, I though it was a neat question for a kid to ask, probably not so much if an adult asked. I mean, common sense and all that, right?

Jo asked that out loud the other day while driving down the street.

Facts of life

You know how old people start eating dinner earlier and earlier until they wind up eating dinner at like 4pm? My old dog has been trying to get us to feed her dinner long before her scheduled dinner time (6pm). I mentioned this to my husband, who had never made such an observation about our elderly fellow humans.

Twice in the last week, he has commented, in one case rather grouchily, that we should not be eating anywhere near 8pm - that's way too late. And so it begins....

Ponderings...

• Is handing-down underwear between brothers nasty? Gavin doesn't really seem to care (or notice - observant, that one) but I sometimes wonder if it is something I should be doing. The underwear aren't stained, but they might have the occasional hole and may be a little dingy (men are almost as rough on underwear as they are on shoes). I would have been grossed out if I had to wear my sister's old underwear (no offense, sis). Is this because I am a female (and thus have standards)? Gavin would rather run around nekkid anyway so if I'm going to put him through the injustice of having to wear britches at all, what does it matter if they have someone else's skidmarks in them?
• Is it rude to breastfeed at the dinner table? We were having our usual Sunday evening family dinner at home and Rowan just would not stop fussing. In the interest of actually being able to hear our conversations (he is by far the loudest of my boys, during the baby stage anyway - Gavin is one of those REALLY LOUD TALKERS), I fed him right there at the table. I doubted he was really hungry but there are few ills that a boob won't fix. Nobody else seemed to care but it still felt weird to me. Granted, I can't pee without someone coming in and busting out a month's worth of soliloquies and they will probably need years worth of therapy for as much as they've seen my boobs in the last 4 months but still...

I'm sure there's more but we'll cross that bridge later. I've probably traumatized you enough for one day.

Answers

To answer some of the questions that were posted to my Facebook:

To Johan:

Of course he wants to go! A party's a party fer sure!! Gavin was allowed to send out 5 invitations to his own party and this kid was one of the ones he invited. Plus, there was recently an after-school activities thing and Gavin actually chose gymnastics (mainly because that's what his future wife was doing, but still). Even with the appreciation Gavin has for gymnastics, his 6 year old brain wouldn't (and didn't) pass up the allure of Chuck-E-Cheese. Then again, when giving him his choices for a birthday party, I didn't include any gymnastic centers in the list. Even if I had, I HIGHLY doubt he would have chosen it.

I honestly don't mind taking Gavin to the party nor do I mind contributing to the shelter. I think it is a wonderful idea! I guess I was just rubbed the wrong way about it.

Perhaps this kid went to someone elses birthday at the gymnastics center and really enjoyed it. I'll admit it's possible that I'm misguided.

All things considered though, there will probably be sugar- and gluten-free carrot cake served at the party and they'll give out Whole Foods gift cards instead of goody bags. On the other hand, Gavin will see how good he's got it and my nomination for mom of the year will be assured!

As an aside: did you know that if you accidentally leave the "m" out of gymnastic (because you are typing one handed while you nurse) then it becomes gynastic and that's just terrifying.

To Auntie B (I love that!):

I see your points. I haven't explained to Gavin about the gift thing but I will let you all know what he says about it when I do.

Well I never!

Gavin came home today with an invitation to a birthday party for a little boy in his class (they invited the whole class) - incidentally the same little boy whose mom RSVPed to Gavin's party a few weeks ago and never showed up. A couple of things struck me as odd.

For starters, the party is being held at a gymnastics center in town. I'm sure they have tumble parties or whatever but it seems odd to me that a 6 year old boy would choose that for his party. I guess it's better than a 12 year old boy choosing that for his party, huh?

Also, included in the Spongebob invitation was a folded up piece of paper asking us to bring an unwrapped toy for this little boy to give to the Women & Children's Rescue Mission in lieu of a gift for the birthday boy. While I applaud the effort (and honestly, I do) it seems kind of Mommy Dearest to me and we're not talking Joan Crawford rich here. This is a middle/lower class suburb in Virginia and I think there is a better way to teach social responsibility than to deny a 6 year old birthday gifts (who here thinks the parents voted for Obama?). I have a hard time believing that he chose this on his own. Even if he is all for it (and he very well may be) I would bet the farm that his parents urged him to do it.

Then again, M & G don't play with most of the stuff that they got for their birthdays anymore, so maybe (probably) I'm talking out of my ass.

Maybe I'm feeling guilty. Like maybe I should have made my kids give their gifts to charity. Heaven knows Marshall chokes up when he asks about the less fortunate, so I'm sure he would have done it ("happily done it" is perhaps too strong a sentiment). But then again, Marshall chokes up at lots of things.

Still, I'm kind of cheesed and feel put-upon. What was the point in adding the little note in the invitation? So that us other parents would feel guilty about it? I mean, they could have quietly taken all the gifts to the mission after the party without letting everyone know. It's almost like they're boasting or something. I almost feel horrible for saying that.

Am I also supposed to feel guilty if I don't take Gavin to the party? Like I'm shorting the needy children one less toy? I mean, this child didn't come to Gavin's party, even after his mom said he would be coming and I still don't know why. It's weird, I tells ya!

So what say you? Should I take him to the party? Am I being a snot about the charity thing? I am navigating uncharted waters with both questions here.

Gavinisms #1

"Fear my raft!" - Said to Marshall as they started up a round of Mario Kart Wii.

Testing....

I'm going to be planning some "featurette" kind of stuff. I have some ideas (goofy though they may be) but what is funny to me is ridiculous to others. Feel free to give me criticism, constructive or otherwise. I can take it!

Some of these "featurettes" (I'm not sure what else to call them) will be weekly, some will be daily, some will be "fly by the seat of my pants" in frequency. I am still nursing an infant after all.

Some of it will be funny, some profound, sometimes a mix of both. Sometimes it will be about life, sometimes the corporate conspiracy, sometimes it will be about my kids, sometimes it may be about someone else's but it won't be just a mommy blog, despite what the name implies (feel free to give me criticism about that too). Do bear with me though - sometimes my kids are the only other humans I converse with in a day but now that we're heading into spring, my honest-to-god soccer-mom transformation will begin so that'll bring a whole new level of lunacy.

But either way, I promise to try and at least make it always interesting.

Here we are!

Hallo everyone!

At Barbara's urging, I have started up this here blog because I have things to say. Maybe not good things necessarily, but things. I promise to make them useful in some sort of way, either to get you thinking or to give you a giggle or just to make you feel a little less crazy. Because I am a chatterbox-busybody and I have no life, you can probably expect a post every day, sometimes a few. Jo might even post from time to time and won't that be lovely?! Yes indeedy!

Love all y'all!