The Greatest Show On Earth

You might not believe it, but I ventured to the circus over the weekend.  As many of you know, the circus is a place I have felt great contempt for in the past.  The elephant poop, the uncomfortable seats, eighty dollar funnel cakes, and scary clowns always left me with a feeling of sensory overload and nausea.  However, there comes a time in your life when you make sacrifices for your kids.  For me, that time was Sunday at 10:00 AM.

For the patrons who arrived to the show early, there was a preshow on the circus floor.  It was a chance to see the dancers, acrobats and elephants up close.  Luke LOVED it.  At two and a half years old, I wondered if it would be too much for him, or if he would be afraid of the clowns.  My wonder ceased with the start of the first act.  There wasn’t a clown in sight during the pre-show.  He loved watching the acrobats fly through the air, and when that was over, they invited all of the kids into the ring for a dance party.  They had barely gotten the words “dance party” out before Luke had dived over the barrier and was front and center in the ring.  Rather than standing with the other kids, Luke went to the front and stood next to the instructor while he shook his groove thang.  This was the highlight of the circus for me. I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I won't rest until that kid knows how to pop and lock. 

Of course for the real show, there were lots of animals- tigers, elephants, llamas, donkeys, a dog that rode a horse, and of course, camel toes on each of the acrobats.  They debuted motor cycles in a cage, clowns, a strong man, and a midget named Nano.  All in all, it was very entertaining, and had Luke not tuckered out, we would’ve stayed for the whole show.  The elephant excrement I had expected to smell was nowhere to be found.  Thanks to whoever cleans up that mess, because they did a really good job.  I was also pleasantly surprised that no one’s epilepsy seemed to be effected by the flashing lights.  My only disappointment was not getting to see the midget stick his head in a tiger’s mouth.  I was really hoping for that.  Damn you, OSHA. 

The Handsome Exterminator

We have a very handsome exterminator.  I will call him, Daniel, because that’s his name.  Whenever he goes to your house, you’re the envy of the neighborhood.  I should mention that it is perfectly acceptable to sexually harass Daniel BEHIND his back.  I repeat, acceptable AND harmless, as long as he never knows.   

I had just lathered my hair when Brantley burst into the bathroom.

“The bug man’s here!”

“On a Saturday?  Dang it,” I told him. “I won’t be out in time. Did he ask about me?”

“Did he say, “Hey, how’s your wife?” No, he didn’t, but he IS looking good.  His beard has come in nice and full, too.”

“Tell him I said, hey.  Then, come back and tell me what he said.”

“No. I’m not doing that.”

“Ok, then throw something on the floor so he has to bend over and pick it up.  You can do it up to three times without it being suspicious.”

“I’m leaving now.  You’re freaking me out.”

By the time I was out of the shower, Daniel the bug man had come and gone.  He had, however, been there long enough to secure our house of pests with his big, strong arms.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we have another ant problem this summer.  As long as Brantley doesn’t catch me painting the house with honey, I’ll be just fine. 

Fabulous Quotes From a Visit With My Folks

--Little sister, Leigh, in reference to her new house and neighbors, "The strippers are fine, but the Mormons are driving us nuts."

--Later, my Mom came into my room. "Lori, take these back home with you.  It's stationery we got in Gatlinburg when you were about twelve."
"Ooh, I don't think that's really my style, Mom."
"Well, you can give it to somebody."
"It says on the front, "A Note from Lori in the Great Smoky Mountains.'"
"Just take 'em back."
"Yes, ma'am."

And, so I brought them home with me, where they reside on my dresser.

The Potty Wars

“Get him a toy out of the treasure chest.”

“No,” I told my husband.  “Pooping in front of the potty does not qualify him to go to the treasure chest.”

“But he was trying.  He went into the bathroom, stood on the stool…”

“And crapped on the floor,” I interrupted.

There we were, husband and wife, in the throws of an argument over our two and a half year old son’s potty training antics.  Fundamental differences of opinion had plagued us recently when it came to Luke’s bathroom use.  Truth be told, he was doing quite well as long as he was completely without pants or a diaper.  He would go into the bathroom, get on the stool and perform a number one like a champ.  Numero dos, however, was another story. 

We provided him with positive reinforcement, made him a treasure chest and a sticker chart for his successful visits to the bathroom.  Still, he didn’t seem motivated to do the part that required sitting down.  “Why should he?” I thought.  Who wouldn’t love to just go wherever they are and have someone else clean up after them and powder their behind?  Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me. 

But, maybe something else was slowing his progress.  Maybe I was a bad teacher.  That had to be it.  Who was I, to tell him how to use the potty when I clearly had my own hang-ups about it?   As a child (read: and adult) I had always been afraid of the dark.  One night, my older, and meaner, sister said something to me that I’ve never forgotten, despite how ridiculous I now know it to be. 

“You should never, ever flush the toilet at night.  If you do, monsters will come out and kill you because they know your parents can’t hear your screams over the sound of the toilet.”

I was horrified, and to this day, I will not flush a toilet after dark.  My husband has come to accept it, although I now say that I don’t want the sound of the flush to wake up Luke (who sleeps on the other side of the house).   Yet, there I stood, a grown woman who saw fit to pass judgment on her kid because he missed the bowl by a couple of feet. 

“Here you go, Luke.  Come pick something out of the treasure chest,” I told him.  He was delighted over his reward and I was proud of his effort.  True, it may not have been a perfect attempt, but I’m not a perfect mom.  The fact is, potty training takes time, a lot of time.  My hope is that he can accomplish that without being scarred for life.  If that happens, then I have done my job.   My other hope is that my older sister has kids one day so I can totally mess them up.  Revenge is sweet.

Bust My Buffers!

You know that you're completely confident in your manhood when you aren’t ashamed to sport a Thomas the Train tattoo to workout at the YMCA.  That’s just what Brantley did this week, and he assures me he knew full well that the tattoo was still on his arm as he pumped some iron in the weight room.  I’m not so sure.  He did get a few double takes from admiring passersby who he swears were, “just jealous.”  That could totally pass for a prison tatt.  He's got some major street cred.

Deep Thoughts

Why is it that Facebook lets you give someone a friendly “poke,” but does NOT give you the option to give someone a “punch in the face?”   And, while you can easily click a button to “like” someone’s post, you cannot dislike it without actually typing the word, “dislike.”  They are making it really hard for me to show my disdain for people, places, and things these days.  I’m looking at you, Mark Zuckerberg.  Ball’s in your court.

Fatty, Fatty, Two-by-four. Can't Fit Through the Adobe Hut Door.

A new study has indicated that the South Pacific Island, Nauru, is the fattest country in the world with 93% of women, and 97% of men being overweight or obese. This wasn’t the case a decade ago when the tiny island country’s diet consisted predominantly of raw or grilled fish. However, in the recent years Nauru began importing western food, and the result has been type II diabetes and cardiovascular disease of epidemic proportions, not to mention a passion for the French fry.

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Joining the Movement- A Story of Triumph

Hard core potty training began at our house four days ago, and since then we have given prize incentives to Luke (2 ½) to help spur him on. I made him a treasure chest and stocked it full of crap from Dollar Tree and Target’s dollar bin. This method began working pretty quickly and gave Luke the little bit of motivation he needed for going peepee. Numero dos, however, was a different story. Nothing in the treasure chest seemed worth his trouble. I needed to raise the stakes.

“If you go poop in the potty, we will get you a Cranky,” I told him. Cranky is a crane, and member of the Thomas the Tank Engine family. Luke has wanted Cranky for sometime, but we couldn’t ever find one in the store. “No big deal,” I thought. “We won’t be needing him for a while.”

I was wrong. Lo and behold, did the boy go poop in the potty this morning AND almost all of it went into the potty. He began shouting, “I get a Cwanky!” Brantley and I were shocked, but a promise was a promise. The three of us got dressed and to Toys-R-Us we went.

I wish I had thought to check the price of the toy before promising him to Luke, and next time I will. I never imagined it would cost $40, thus making this morning’s bowel movement the most expensive in history. It better be worth it.