Loripalooza Rocks Your Inbox

For all of my previous email subscribers who were used to getting blog updates sent directly to you, please know that I am in the process of switching over to a new subscription host. 

In the meantime you can still see my new blog posts at the URL http://loripalooza.com.

Go ahead and bookmark it if you haven't already.

As soon as I get my i's dotted and my t's crossed I will resume my invasion of your inbox!

XOXO

-Lori

We have moved!

Come see us at Loripalooza.com!

Lori

My Kid Expects More From Me (Spoiler Alert! He's In For A Let Down)

I've been getting telltale signs over the last week that Luke (5) is raising his expectations of me. This is quite a conundrum because I am proud to be a champion of mediocrity and yet there I am, time and time again, encouraging him to improve on everything he does. 

Last Friday I helped him pick out his clothes and as he started getting dressed I headed for my closet. 

"I'm going to pick out my clothes now," I told him.

"Okaaaay," he said in a sing-song voice. "Do not EVEN tell me what it is. I can't wait to be amaaaazed."

I stopped dead in my tracks. Since when have I ever come out of my closet wearing something that amazed him, or anyone else for that matter? I wear sweat pants every day and I'm pretty sure he was four-years-old before he ever saw me in a dress. I'll never forget his surprise. "Mom, YOU have a princess suit?"

Afraid he was getting his hopes up for something that was not to be, I told him, "It's going to be running pants (I hesitated) and a T-shirt."

"Are you going running?"

"No." (Slightly annoyed)

"Ohhh, all right then. Dad runs in his."

With that twist of the knife I went into my closet, closed the door behind me and mumbled under my breath, "At least I can tie my own shoes."

Then, this morning after hitting snooze on my alarm for the third time I heard his big, flat feet hit the floor as he got out of his bed and headed for my room. The first thing out of his mouth was, "Really, Mom? Free times?" 

He climbed into my bed and we snuggled for a while before having to get him ready for school. Per our usual routine, we argued about the direction he combs his hair and his disdain for blue jeans. Before I knew it he was out the door and headed to school. He will only be there for three hours, but I miss him already. 

What I don't miss, however, is having my outfit critiqued. 

Billie Jean King is a handsome woman, dammit and I'm not one bit ashamed of copying her swagger. 

This brings me back to my conundrum, though. Is it right for me to expect him to strive for perfection at everything he does while I sleep late and, from time to time, sleep in the outfit I'm going to wear the next day? (Shut up. You know its brilliant.)

Yes, of course it is. 

He's five-years-old and therefore still crappy at everything!! That may sound harsh, but before judging me try making a resume for your five-year-old. You can't. It's hysterical. They can't do anything. 

So…

Parental win. End conundrum.

Lori

New Study Shows Routine Tonsillectomies ARE Harder Than Pulling Teeth

In the last four weeks Luke has lost two tonsils, two adenoids and two front teeth. That's a lot of loss for one little guy. One thing he hasn't lost, however, is his spunk. He had some complications from the surgery that kept him out of school (and in bed) longer than he would like to have been. This was a result of the ENT accidentally cauterizing (burning) a fairly large portion of his tongue AND sending us home with no mention of it. So on day three, or four of his post-operative recovery instead of starting to feel better, he developed a mass on his tongue so large that he could barely swallow liquids. 

Other than being furious, we were concerned the trauma to his tongue would affect his speech. 

During a follow-up appointment with his ENT, the doctor asked Luke to try saying some different words. 

ENT: "Can you say 'puppy?'"

Luke: "Arf, arf!"

ENT: "No, I'm asking if you can say the word puppy?"

Luke: "Of course I can. Don't be ridiculous."

It was clear to the doctor at that point that Luke still held a grudge and who was I to blame him. When he finished the exam and opened the door to exit the room Luke said loudly, "Mom, I still fink he should go to jail."

A few days before his surgery, Luke let Brantley pull his extremely loose tooth, but it required a good deal of bribery. So we were very surprised when just a few days ago Luke came running into our bedroom. 

"Mom and Dad, I pulled my own toof," he said handing to me. 

"But Luke," I said. "It wasn't even that loose. How did you get it out so quickly?"

He placed his hands on his hips in the way he does when preparing to give us a dissertation.

"Welllll, I bited a heavy pillow, of course. Then, I shook my head around like a dog and it just fell out."

Of course he did. 

Maybe they should change the analogous reference of something being difficult from "It's like pulling teeth" to "It's like being an ENT when a five-year-old makes you look like an ass."

Lori

I Just Want To Be Alone!

Luke: "Mom, will you help me make a sign for my bedroom door?"

Me: "If I can coordinate the colors to match your bedroom and mount it on card stock?"

Luke: "What does that mean."

Me: "It means I'll help you if you let me make it pretty."

Luke: "No!"

Me: "Then, no. I won't help you."

Luke: "Ok, fine. But, not too pretty."

Me: "Deal."

I didn't realized at the time that I had just agreed to make a sign that had the sole purpose and intent of keeping ME out of his bedroom. However, I didn't fret over it for too long because truth be told, I appreciate space and privacy just as much as my five-year-old son. Maybe more...

This is one of many examples of why I am delighted to be a contributing author in the soon to be released book, I Just Want To Be Alone.

Jen of People I Want To Punch In The Throat is a blogger that people love to love and love to hate, depending on who's receiving the aforementioned throat punch. Last year, she released the wildly successful precursor to this book- a hilarious view of motherhood entitled I Just Want To Pee Alone. However, when Jen asked who would like to take part in a second volume which was to include the topic of husbands I raised both hands and a foot. 

You may have read the bit of husband bashing I wrote about in "You Have Lipstick On Your Teeth" last year, but something tells me you'll have my back once again after reading my chapter, "Rehearsal Dinner Roofie." 

Pre-order your copy today!

Lori

How To Know If Your Dog Is On Drugs

In the days since Luke's tonsillectomy there have been many a skirmish to get him to take his pain medicine. He's a strong-willed five-year-old boy and even getting him to swallow the thing that makes him feel better creates a fight. These struggles happen so regularly that we have taken to calling them The Great Lortab War of 2014. 

It was during one such battle that Luke thought he outsmarted his old Mom by squirting half of his pain medicine onto the floor. Much to my disappointment Baxter appeared out of nowhere and downed that narcotic like it was something he was born to do. 

That was the first red flag.

Then I began noticing other changes in Baxter. 

• Irrational behavior and jumping on table tops
• Aggressive munchies
• A chewed up medication syringe
• Then, finally his new found taste for extravagant jewelry. He surely cannot afford such things on his allowance.

(Borderline popsicle rape)

So what is a concerned mother to do? I've phoned several veterinarian offices inquiring about doggy detox only to have them hang up on me. 

It's clearly intervention time. 

I have already begun drafting my letter to Baxter to let him know how his drug abuse has negatively effected me. I can't find half my jewelry!! I've asked Brantley to do the same, but he keeps saying things like "Turn the TV back up!" and "Have you found a job yet?"

Clearly he's still in denial and needs more time. 

However, if you feel called to take part in Baxter's intervention then  feel free to leave a letter to Baxter with your thoughts and feelings in the comments. Don't hold back. He needs to hear this. 

Lori

Loripalooza Valentine's Day Edition: Love Hurts

It's been said before, but I'll say it again. I'm not big on romance. I don't want anyone to gaze endearingly into my eyes unless they have challenged me aloud by shouting, "Staring contest!"

Valentine's day for the husband and I involves zero expectations. It isn't like Christmas when we say we're going to keep our gift exchange low key, then both of us secretly and simultaneously do the opposite. We literally don't observe it and I LOVE that. 

Our son on the other hand is a hopeless romantic. 

"I love valentime's day," he tells me. 

"What do you love about it?"

"Because it's all about love. I can't wait until me and my wife live here without you and Dad."

"Why can't your Dad and I stay here. This is our house, too."

"Mom, you have your own husband. You need your own place."

I ran up the stairs and before slamming my bedroom door I shouted, "I hate you! You're not even my real kid!!!" 

OK I didn't actually say that, (to his face) but lately he's been obsessed with talking about his wife and I'd probably be more concerned if it weren't for the fact that his wife is a stuffed dog. 

It makes absolutely no sense, but a few weeks ago he announced that he had a wife and that she was coming for dinner. She has been at the table for every family meal since then. She's proving to be a persistent gal.  

I do my best to ignore it when he talks about her, but this week he insisted on taking her to school for show and tell. Believe me I tried, but there was no talking him out of it. 

When I picked him up from school his teachers were very amused. They had been hearing great things about his wife for weeks, so naturally they were excited to finally meet her. 

On the ride home I said, "How was school?"

"It was good," he said nonchalantly, "except that Owen punched my wife."

I spit coffee all over my steering wheel as I guffawed with laughter. 

"Mom, it isn't funny."

Of course it wasn't. There's nothing funny about domestic abuse. BUT IT WAS because his wife is a stuffed pug. I don't even mind admitting that I've punched her a couple of times, myself. She's mouthy. 

Thankfully, I'm friends with Owen's Mom. When we got home I sent her a text explaining what had gone down and to let her know that her son was a wife beater. No big deal. Thankfully, I had relocated myself to the office where I was pretending to check my email so Luke couldn't hear me laughing. Owen's Mom responded back with, "Tell your son to keep his wife at home from now on unless she wants to get punched again."

The mere image of his Pre-K classroom being rocked by such a scandal had me laughing so hard that tears streamed down my face and I could barely catch my breath. 

They grow up fast in Brentwood, TN. 

How do teachers manage to keep it together? I bet it's alcohol. 

Happy Valentine's day!!

xoxo

Lori