Another cartoon moment or the dangers of jalepenos

Last night, I chopped a jalepeno for dinner and somehow a bit of it squirted in my eye. Like any good Marx Brother, I immediately dropped the knife on the cutting board and grabbed at my eye with my hands. Unfortunately those hands had just been cutting a jalepeno, so I managed to further burn my eye.

Since my sink was full of dirty dishes (I'm such a remarkable homemaker, really), I ran to the bathroom to rinse out my eye. In the background, Allen called, "Are you okay?" I gave him a terse, "No," on my way up the stairs.

In the bathroom, I awkwardly squished my head sideways under the faucett and began running cold water. Unfortunately, the jalepeno juice ran from one eye into the other, causing me to bang my head on the faucett.

I started doing the two-hand water scoop in the eyes routine and realized that some of the jalepeno was stuck on my water-proof mascara. As I tried to remove it, the burning intensified from all the rubbing.

Allen googled the problem and called out helpful suggestions: "You can rinse with milk, use Visine, or try Benedryl."

I don't actually keep Visine handy; I'm not sure if I want milk in my eyes as well as jalepeno, and I didn't think the orally ingested Benedryl would do much (I certainly wasn't about to rub the lotion on my eye!).

I decided my particular comic routine for the night would end with water and makeup remover, rather than with the funnier "milk in eye sketch."

Avoiding Studying with the Help of a Blog Post

Yesterday, Weston spilled some applesauce on the kitchen table. Rather than wipe it up with the paper towel I handed him, he decided to lick it up. And, sadly enough, I ignored him, just turning my back so I wouldn't have to watch.

I guess I have grown a bit immune to this sort of gross mouth behavior during the last nine years of parenthood. When Kimball was a baby, I used to wash his toys after other children played with them and keep him in carefully controlled environments to avoid germs.

Anyone with a few kids knows this is a lost cause. Even the most clean and protective parents just can't control children's freakish mouth behavior. Here are only a few of the highlights of things I have retrieved from my children's mouth:

• Dirty coin collected from the sidewalk
• Partially chewed candies retrieved from under church pew
• Rubber band taken off a newspaper left in a mud puddle
• Flashlight found from under Weston's bed right next to an old, stale piece of bread
• Used sidewalk chalk

When things are too big to fit inside the mouth (the flashlight should have fit into this category), my kids instead lick them:

• Dirty car door
• Kitchen cabinet
• Dog
• Used flower pot
• Another person's dirty foot

I'm still not sure I understand the motivation for this behavior--maybe some of you have ideas?

It Puts Bread on the Table: Rainy Day Musings

Another cold, miserable day outside, so the boys and I pulled up home videos of last month's trip to sunny St. George.


While watching, I noticed several things:

• My sense of style has hit an all time low--notice the capris with dark socks and boots (have I no shame?)


• Grace's bonnet does protect her from the sun, but it also makes our family look like it escaped from the XYZ Ranch


• For every half an hour of hiking in 70 degree weather, each boy requires approximately 1.2 million gallons of water


• For every half an hour of hiking, each boy requires at least three bathroom breaks (see previous list item)


• Allen's picture is never actually on our blog; even this video only lets you hear his voice--does he really exist? Is he like the mysterious Charlie from Charlie's Angels? Why was Charlie so creepy on that show? Is there a reason he called his employees angels? Should he be sued for sexual harassment?

Shout out to you lurkers

Every online community has a group of people who choose to be silent spectators. This group of invisible lurkers actually comprises the majority of the community. The out-there, out-spoken weirdos do most of the posting (thanks, siblings, for being my weirdos). Of course, that means that only the weirdos have voices.

Having now had many discussions with friends and family who have read the blog but have never commented, I see that my blog is no exception. To me, however, the fun of blogging is in sharing a story and having that story remediated with ongoing comments and discussion.

So, come on, Lurkers, take back the power--if you don't want me to write one more offensive bathroom post, let me know!

Off Track/Off Kilter or The Girl Who Cried Poopy (WARNING: rated B for bathroom humor)

The children are off track from school right now, which makes for a messy, chaotic, sometimes vulgar experience. Vulgar because the boys are obsessed with bodily functions. For example, one boy (who will remain anonymous) has had many discussions with me on the properties of farts: impact of diet on gas, ways to hide gas in a classroom setting, and overall stinkiness ratings. All three boys regularly have toys that perform bathroom activities as part of play.

Unfortunately, these habits seem to have rubbed off on Grace. She is very particular about the state of her diaper, and even a hint of urine has her upset. She usually chases me around crying mournfully, "Poopy, poopy, poopy!" Of course, when I check her diaper, nothing--at least nothing visible to the naked eye or nostril.

I hope all this bodes well for potty training since I was pretty sure the boys were going to be wearing pull-ups to their high school graduations. They just didn't care about the discomfort the way Grace does. With them, I would walk into the room, smell something suspicious, and have to hunt down the perpetrator who was only upset by the fact he had to stop playing.

With Grace, I have retired from the search and destroy missions, but I face a new challenge: the girl who cried poopy. My only hope is that with high tech tools--a pair of princess underwear and a new pink potty seat--I can move past this stage altogether.