The New Best Friend

For the past 5 years, we've deep fried our Thanksgiving turkey.  Oh, and then again for Christmas.  We will pretty much look for any excuse under the sun to fry a turkey, now that I come to think of it.

Anyway, so all this turkey frying has finally worn out our fryer pot to the extent that we felt it necessary to buy a new one.  Thanksgiving Day being a day for turkey, football and laziness, we knew we didn't want to prep it tomorrow.  Mr. A started assembling it last night and finished it off with a good washing.

The pot is pretty deep, so he just washed it in the bathtub (after a whole lot of girlish sounding whining about how cold it is outside......it was a "bone-chilling" 57 degrees outside) and left it in there for reasons only a man can sort out.

After a little while, I realized I hadn't seen MollyMischiefMachine, so I started calling for her.

Awesomeness:  Where were you?

Molly: I was in the bathroom.

Awesomeness: What were you doing in the bathroom for so long?

Molly: I play with Pot.

Awesomeness: Pot?  Who's Pot?

Molly: Pot is in the bathtub.  He's my new best friend.  We play catch with a ball.

Awesomeness: ..........

She was, indeed, tossing a ball at the pot.  The pot was indeed "catching" it.  It's come to my attention that we should probably make more of an effort to help her find some real friends.  People ones.

In other news, I caught MollyMischiefMaker playing with the house phone just after I started typing this post.  I explained to her that she shouldn't play with the phone because sometimes people call because they need to talk to her daddy or me and that they won't be able to get through if she's playing with the phone. (Okay, so no one actually calls, but it was the principle of the matter.)  Her response:

 But Mama, I need call Pongo.

Pongo.  As in, 101 Dalmations Pongo.  She is obsessed with that dog.  She was very disappointed about not being able to talk to her imaginary dog friend on the phone, so I gave her my old cell phone and told her it was her special "Pongo phone".  Then, in predictable little girl fashion, she proceeded to call all of her friends:

Hi Pongo!  It's me, it's Molly.  You're my best friend.  What's that Pongo?  Yes.  Uh, huh.  You have Patches?  Patches is a puppy.  Okay Pongo, bye-bye!

Hello Santa!  You got reindeers?  Yes?  And a sleigh?  I just talking to Pongo.  He's white with black spots.  Pongo is my best friend.

Hi Grammy and Papa!  I just talking to Pongo and Santa.  I miss you too Grammy.  Uh huh.  I haveta go now. Bye-bye!

Boy, whatta chatterbox.

No, Really, You Shouldn't Have

I'm not sure who's idea it was to desecrate a classic, but this turd will soon be out in theaters:



CarrieCartoonFan was riveted when the trailer came on yesterday. When it was over, I asked her:

Awesomeness: Do you want to watch that bear?
CarrieCartoonFan: *stares at the screen for about 5 seconds, then looks up -- frowning* No, Mama...

You can't get a more honest and useful critique than that, folks. This movie looks so bad that a 4-year old won't watch it.

It's Cute...It's Cute...It's Cute...Now Shaddup

Welcome to my Friday hell.

It started when HelgaHurtsALot somehow found a way to scrape her knee on laminate flooring.  She is the master of unlikely injuries.  The knee started to bleed, so I patched her up with some ointment and a Band-Aid.  Little did I suspect that this would lead to 2 hours of verbal torture.  It started off cute enough, just after applying the Band-Aid...


Awesomeness: There you go, Helga.  All better!
HelgaHurtsALot: Oh, thank you Doctor Mama!
Awesomeness: You're welcome!

Oh, how cute, Doctor Mama.  She is so funny..... What's that Helga?

HelgaHurtsALot: Look, look what's on the TV Doctor Mama!  It's Olivia.  I like Olivia Doctor Mama!
Awesomeness: That's nice honey, just watch your show.

5 seconds later

HelgaHurtsALot: Oh no!  She drop her toy!  She drop it Doctor Mama!!
Awesomeness: Yup, I guess she did.  What do you think she should do about that?
HelgaHurtsALot: She should pick it off the floor Doctor Mama.

This is the point where "Doctor Mama" starts to get on my nerves.  For the next 5 minutes, she continued to commentate every move in her cartoon.  Punctuated, unfortunately, with "Doctor Mama."  Except now, she's trying to give it some pizazz and she's accentuating it "DOCter maMA," which I find infinitely nerve-grating.

After her show was over, the assault didn't end:

"DOCter maMa, can I have some juice?"


"I wanna watch another moobie DOCter maMa."


"Whatchu doing, whatchu doing DOCter maMA?"

And so on, and so on.  At one point she dug a scraper out of my utensil drawer in the kitchen and started fanning me with it:

"I'm making wind at you DOCter maMA!  You're getting very cold now DOCter maMA!"

Great, now she's combining my loathing of having cold air blow on me with an obnoxious new nickname.  Is it bedtime yet?


...


How 'bout now?

Hold Still

Tonight I cut my thumb while preparing dinner.  Preparing dinner is something I don't do often, because cutting my thumb -- or any other finger -- is not a rare occurrence with me.  I quickly washed it off and got a Band-Aid.  Mr. Awesomeness decided this was the point where he needed to step in and take over the cooking duties (seriously, works like a charm every time ladies) and I left the kitchen to nurse my life-threatening wound.

Never fear, though, DoctorDottie came to my rescue!

Dottie: Hold still, Mama.  Hold still.
Awesomeness: What do you need?
Dottie: You need to hold still.  You hurt yourself.  You need to stop moving.
Awesomeness: (actually holding still -- and I thought Mr. A was a sucker) Okay, I'm holding still.  Now what?
Dottie: *poke*

Poked me right in my damn wound.  Yeah.  Cleared it right up.  Thanks Doc.

Occupational Aptitude

On the way home today, I was starting to think that DollyDrivingDirector was showing a natural talent for driving instruction:

DDD: You need get over now daddy.

Mr. Awesomeness: What?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: What did you say?

DDD: (silence)

Mr. Awesomeness: I think she was talking crap about my driving.

Awesomeness: Thank you for being Dada's driving coach.

DDD: You're welcome mama.

Mr. Awesomeness: I don't think we need to encourage that.

Later on in the commute, however, I started questioning her judgement.  There came a time when someone in a car ahead of us stopped.  I don't know why, possibly to smell the roses.  Maybe to make new friends.  There was nothing blocking his way, so it's really a mystery.  Anyway:

Brakes: SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!

DDD: That was too close Daddy!

Mr. Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that was too close.

DDD: We need to jump out of the car.

You Take Me To The Store?

Well, today's the big day.  Toy Story 3 comes out on DVD.  MarthaMovieFan is very excited.  She kept asking for it all day yesterday.  Today, her daddy is taking her to get it.  She excitedly runs up the stairs for her clothes and then oddly points out that her brother's bed is very clean.  Strange comment...

I grab her clothes out of the closet just to turn around and find her jumping up and down on the once clean bed with her dirty feet.  Well, who can blame the kid for being enthusiastic?  I gently reminded her:

Awesomeness: Martha, your brother's bed is not a trampoline.
Martha: Aw right, Mama.  (she gets down from the bed)  I get my clothes now?
Awesomeness: Yep, here they are!  Where are you going?
Martha: To the store with my daddy!
Awesomeness: That's right!  Do you know what you're going to get at the store? (Thinking that the answer should be obvious since the kid's been begging for that movie for almost 24 hours straight.)
Martha: I'm gonna get a TRAMPOLINE!

A trampoline.  The only thing cooler than Toy Story 3.

I Go "Trick-o-Tree"

Yesterday, CathyCandyGrabber went trick-or-treating for the first time.  We reminded her of what the rules were before she left:

1. Knock on the door.
2. Wait for the door to open.
3. When the door opens say, "Trick or treat!"
4. Candy.
5. Say "thank you."

When she came home with her daddy half an hour later, he tells me she made up her own rules:

1. Make daddy knock on the door.
2. Turn to run away before the door even opens.
3. Smile and giggle.
4. Candy anyway.
5. Run away!

Oh well, she had fun anyway.  Maybe she'll get it next year.

CountCrybaby helped me pass out candy while his sister and dad were gone.  At first, he was happy to help and loved the sight of all the little kids coming up to the door.

Yeah, he really is the count.

Then he realized that he should be getting candy too.

Incidentally, that's his little belly hanging out underneath his vest.  That shirt/vest thing was supposed to be a 2T, which theoretically means that it's a full size too big for him.  It fit more like a 18 mo.  Very disappointing.

Anyway, then every time the little kids would go away, he'd say, "Byyyyyyyye!" and then I'd see this:

Until the next group of kids showed up.

Overall, it was a fun night, but I'm glad it's only once a year!