Dinner for None

Slightly frustrated at Shea for stealing the majority of my dinner right off of my plate, I made a rash decision. I decided that I would not take the time to make myself something else to eat. I would make a simple bowl of cereal.

Since I have not had a real (milk and cereal) bowl of cereal since the coming of Dominick, I decided it was a good time to test his lactardiness. We suspect he may be a lactard based on his fussiness in response to dairy back when I ate it, and the possible genetic defect he may have inherited from his father. I figured if I put a tad bit of milk in my cereal, I would see the response in the next day or two. This could be my in to eating ice cream again!

I sat down on the couch with my momentarily cranky baby and my bowl of cereal. It almost annoyed me that Shea was sitting there with his adorable puppy eyes, begging for a taste of my Cheerieos, because he already stole my first dinner.

As I put my back-up dinner plans into action, bringing my soon up to my mouth, Dominick had other plans. My wildy active four-month old kicked his legs and flung his arms out in merriment, sending my bowl of cereal flopping into my lap. I sat there for, no lie, about a minute as the milk laden cereal seeped through my pants. I was unsure of how to handle this. No matter what I did, this gargantuant mess was going to get bigger.

I eventually stood up, spilling the mess onto the floor. I dropped my pants and immediately threw them downstairs to be laundered. By the time I got back to the mess, pantsless, Shea was busy cleaning it up. Another victory for the Shea-Man. Ughhhh.

And, We're Rolling

This weekend was monumental! Not only was it a much appreciated three-day weekend, but Dominick achieved a milestone.

He went to the bathroom on the potty for the first time! We are overachievers to the extreme here.

Okay, you caught me. That's not Dominick in that picture. And, no, we are not extreme overachievers. Dominick did not go to the bathroom on the toilet. He went all over his changing table. 

However, there is one thing I was truthful about. Dominick did reach a major milestone this weekend. My beautiful baby boy rolled over for the first time. Well, for the first, second, third, and fourth time. He's a rolling machine! 

The funny thing, Jeff has yet to witness it. He has accused me of lying, but I think the shear excitement in my voice and on my face proved it more than true. Plus, Shea witnessed all four rollings. He wasn't impressed though. He rolls over all the time! 

Lazy Poops

Ever since we moved here, the fat-lazy neighbors across the street have given me new some new pets to peeve about. One of those peeves glaringly occurs each week. Each week around garbage day in particular.

Our garbage is picked up on Monday morning. Which means that on Monday afternoon or evening, at some point, all of my lovely neighbors wander down to the edge of the curb and drag their garbage cans back to the side of their garages. I do the same. In fact, everyone on the street does, except our across the street neighbors. Even when they park in the street and walk up their driveway, past the garbage can, they don't bring it back. Why? I'm not sure. All I am really sure of is that their garbage can is always the only one left out by the side of the street three days beyond garbage day.

Obviously, this irks me. Not only is it extremely lazy, something of which I have no tolerance for, but it is rude and disrespectful to the entire neighborhood. Nobody wants to see your ugly, empty garbage can for days on end. So, today, while out and about with Shea and Dominick on this gorgeous seventy degree day, I decided to take a stand.

I wasn't going to let this garbage can break my good mood today! In fact, I wanted to try something to bring a little added joy and excitement to my life. Something that involves Shea's offensive smelling poop.

I have simply decided that for everyday that the neighbors do not bring their garbage cans back up, I will toss Shea's poop in their bin. Believe you me, that poop can quickly smell up a garbage can! However, I'm not sure if these people will even notice. They are certainly too lazy to look into the garbage can. They are probably too lazy to even smell. Good thing breathing is involuntary!

Missing Laundry

After doing the laundry the other day, I noticed that a heavy sweatshirt of Jeff's was not quite clean. Being the excellent wife and launder that I am, I placed the sweatshirt in the dryer for just a few minutes to top it off.

Anytime I place anything in the dryer, my not so good launderer side comes out. The side that leaves clothes in the dryer, unthought of, and forgotten about. That is what happened to Jeff's beloved sweatshirt. Lost in the shuffle of my brain.

A few days passed and Jeff noticed that his sweatshirt hadn't come up with the rest of the laundry. Rather than asking me where it was, he went ahead and accused. Yup, accused.

Although I've left clothes in the dryer plenty of times, he was surprised. He was surprised because he assumed that I had shrunk his sweatshirt and stashed it away trying to hide the evidence.

I was totally offended for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, how dare he question my honesty like that. He can accuse me of shrinking things all he wants. In fact, he does. And, in fact, I do. The thing that gets me is, I have never tried to hide it before. I may get slightly defensive about the shrinking accusations, but I do not try to hide my work.

In fact, I remember one time in particular, I shrunk a nice hooded sweatshirt. And, may I remind you, Jeff, I did not try in the least to hide the remnants. I wore them proudly around because, well, they fit me nicely!
I paraded around in that hooded sweatshirt like it was my own; wearing it to the mall, to basketball games, and just to lounge around in.

So, no way in H-E-double hockey stick was I going to start hiding my shrinkage now. I would have showed it off with pride. If only men could take a lesson for me!