The Mini Van Soap Box

Well, maybe not the World, but it was certainly heard around the entire 2nd, 3rd and probably 4th floors of my daughters pediatricians office.

Yesterday was the dreaded "Well Health Check Up" that every kid has to have on/around their birthdays. And as every parent knows, there isn't one between birth and grade school that does not involve shots.

Now, while I am a big fan of making sure that my daughter does not get a horrible disease, like Polio or something...I still wish there was a better way of getting that juice into her system. Don't you think some researcher somewhere could come up with a fruit smoothie cocktail or something that would be easier to give to kids? Well, sure, I realize that you are spending your time trying to cure Cancer and shit, but I swear that I just heard the results of a research study that said "women with large breasts have a slightly less chance of getting breast cancer if they drink three cups of coffee a day..."Seriously?! I think these folks could work on my cocktail idea.

So, we're at the doctors office, and I had been warned before this visit that the 4 year check up "was a doozy". Honestly, I wish they hadn't told me that. I stressed about it for a week leading up the visit.

So, we see the nurse (her vision is great), we see the doctor (she can talk and jump on one foot, all good things I'm assured) and then we wait for the next nurse.

We wait.

We wait.

She's sitting in her drawers, and I'm trying to entertain her with the crap ass books that are there. But she knows what's coming and I know what's coming - so we're both just kind of humoring each other.

Bad Nurse comes with 7 shots! Apparently, last year they "forgot" to give her one she needed, so they have to tag it onto this one. Make matters worse, I wanted to get her flu shot while we were there...So, we need to stick this kid 8 times.

Now she's got eight little puncture wounds and every inch of her body is covered in red, yellow and blue band aids - and she's pissed as hell - at me, of course. Cause, seriously, who could blame her? I'm the one that drove her to this torture chamber.

Trying to make a kid smile after 8 shots with a fuckin' sticker or a lollipop is ridiculous.

So, if she asks me to buy her a Pony, I'm totally going to do it.

I've always enjoyed clicking on the "recent keyword activity" button on my stat counter, and look through the truly bizarre things that people type into Google...and get to me somehow.

I'm quite certain that unless they actually typed in Minivan Soapbox, they were very disappointed when they got here.

You would not believe the amount of hits I get on the words "RachelRaySucks"...which is unfortunate, because I don't mind her at all - but I wrote a post about a millions years ago about how sad it was that someone could hate someone else so much, that they would devote their time and a website to how much they hate them.

Some other interesting searches that have landed people at my door...

take the responsibility choke experiment - Is this like those trust tests, where you fall backwards into a friends arms? Or should we translate it literally...How responsible are you with your choking? If you kill them....You get a fail grade?

need a pimp - I honestly don't think that Pimps advertise on the internet. But what the hell do I know? Maybe they do....I'm sure somewhere on Craigs List.

aggressive famous actors - Apparently, the normal run of the mill actor won't do for this person

broccoli soap selling - Ummmm....No. Just no. Don't ever try to sell soap that smells like broccoli. I mean, seriously, no good can come from this.

And an unbelievable amount of people are apparently looking to put in mini blinds and or window treatments on the windows of their minivan...And apparently they think my website is going to help them....Not so much.

I would like to begin by saying that I realize that food/dinner time problems with children are very common. I would also like to make sure you understand that I am not a complete idiot, and that while I realize that THIS particular problem is probably nowhere near how bad you had it - I'm still going to bitch about it.

I blame the internet actually. I spent so much time before she was born, scouring every resource I could about babies, caring for babies, caring for ill babies, caring for babies born without heads and or feet - that by the time my due date came around - I was consumed with the notion that she would be born without a head and/or feet. Color me surprised when she emerged with all extremities, and what the nurse said what a perfect 10.

At that point I passed out cold - I imagine because I didn't know what to do with a child that actually had a head. Well, it was either that - or the fact that Mr. Epidural cranked up my dosage. I loved that man...sigh.

Anyway, so I had this baby. And I was a freak. Wash your hands before you touch her. Don't ever walk away from her. Yes, I realize she's only 3 days old and has not one functioning limb, however, MY child will be an overachiever and won't you look like an asshole if today is the day she decides to get up and walk. No, she can't stay overnight with her Grandparents, it's been like 20 some years since they've had children, what if they give her strawberries, or peanut butter or a Lobster Tail? What would we do then?

So, you can see where introducing solid food into her diet was not something I was really eager to do. Frankly, I'm surprised I'm not still feeding her baby food.

By the time her pediatrician sat me down and explained to me that she would not choke on mushed green beans, and to get over myself, we were past the point of no return. Put solid food in front of her - and stop the baby food cold turkey.

It only took about a day - but I was convinced that she would STARVE in that time frame, and I think I cried straight for two days.

So, because of the whole I'm a horrible mother and I withheld food from her for a whole day until she ate it - We've typically allowed her to have an opinion about what she wants for dinner.

Most of the time this involves Shell Pasta, with a vegetable and a fruit.

See, really not all that bad right? She actually chooses to eat a vegetable every day. Fruit is the snack of choice in our house - she'll eat beets right out of a can.

So, what am I bitching about, right?

Well, because I've allowed her to have an opinion about food - She thinks her's is the only one that counts. She'll actually stay mad at me for days if I don't have shell pasta in the house.

All of the above actually has nothing to do with why I sat down to write. I just wanted to tell you that she's got these popsicles that she is allowed to have after dinner. They are wrapped in white shiny paper, and for the most part, you can't see through the paper to see what color the popsicle is.

So, every day after dinner she'll ask to have a popsicle and always wants to know if I can pick the same color she had the night before. I've managed to do it, like, four nights in a row now.

Last night she leaned over to my husband and whispered in his ear "Mama can do magic!"

During a routine "How was your day?" conversation with my husband, he told me that there was a possibility of him picking up some over time in the next few months - and wanted to know if I was interested. It's a loaded question really. On one hand we could really use the extra money to get our financial train back on track, but on the other, I have to accept single parenting while he's gone. You see, most of his "overtime" will involve him being in an entirely different city.

However, paying for things like bread and heat are important. So, we agreed. Go forth and work yourself to the bone.

I, on the other hand, do not have the possibility of working over time. I don't know if ya'll have heard or not, but the real estate market sucks ass right now. I suppose it works out well - if he's working overtime and I'm working overtime....The private school we have her in would have to work overtime - and I've heard that they don't take kindly to leaving your children there overnight.

But I still want to be able to do my part. If there is some extra money to be made - I want to help.

I asked him if I should sell my body on the street corner, but he wasn't too keen on that. I don't think I would make much anyway. I hear that stretch marks and c-section scars aren't sexy. I would also say things like "Could you please hurry it up? Lost is about to start!" I don't see myself getting referred to anyone else.

So, what does any self respecting out of work hooker do? I hock my shit on ebay.

Problem is, I think there is a part of me that thinks I'm going to pay off our house with the oodles and boodles of money that I'm going to make. Nothing is safe in our house. If it isn't nailed down to the counter it's ebay fair game. I've even taken things from OTHER people to sell on Ebay. So, essentially not even our neighbors garbage is safe.

"Oh, honey, that's a nice sweater"
"Babe, can I wear it ONCE before you sell it to someone else for $2.99?"

Every day I find something new that I could sell, and put it on our dining room table. Which, by the way, is not a dining room table anymore - it's a junk warehouse.

It's going to take me years to sell all this crap.

Chances are, by the end, I'll have an empty house, a very good relationship with Upga the Postal Worker, and about $53 dollars.

There have been very few blogs I've read in the last few months that have not touched on some sort of political viewpoint. I admire those that can put their feelings, often quite passionately, out there for all to see - and viewpoints of others be damned. They feel the way they feel - and use their own personal space to tell others how it is.

I, on the other hand, tend to shy away from all things important. Not because I don't feel passionately about them - but because of the fear that someone may not like what I say, and then my comment section is used as a sounding board for what an idiot I am.

However, with the election looming in the very near future, I thought I would take this time to let you all know a few things that I do believe.

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I believe in Free Speech - but think that people often confuse free speech with the right to insult others. You can make your point - even loudly - without calling other people names.

I believe in the right to Bear Arms - but I also reserve the right to not allow my daughter to play at your house - that doesn't mean that you and I still can't be friends.

I have no problem with people wanting to live in this country - but I believe that you need to do it the right way and learn the language.

I believe that anyone that hurts or abuses a child deserves a special place in hell.

I believe in God, Heaven and Hell, and in being the best person you can be.

I believe that our elderly are getting a raw deal, and that my Grandparents lived through some things that I could never imagine.

I believe that if you are right for the job - it does not matter what color, race or religion you are.

I believe that Love gets you down the aisle, but hard work is what makes it last.

I believe that money doesn't solve everything - but it does help to have some.

I believe in the Family - and that your family are those that stand behind you no matter what.

I believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Clause and Fairies. Pitching a tent in your backyard and sleeping outside. I believe in playing in the mud and picking wild flowers - Cuddling under blankets and calling in sick. I believe in setting boundaries, but knowing when to let her be free. I believe in holding hands and kissing in public - Sunday football games with hot wings and beer.

I believe that a smile and a "thank you" can make someones day.

I believe that we are what we make ourselves - and that each of us could probably work a little harder.

And I believe that I'm going to go upstairs right now and play.
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It's been pointed out to me that I have a few "favorite" phrases. Certain words/phrases that litter my every day talking. These phrases are:

"Clearly" as in:
"Clearly, I should not quit my day job and blog full time"

and

"OK Seriously?" as in:
"OK Seriously? Yes, that dress does make your ass look like the back end of a Volkswagen!"

Now that MY favorites have been pointed out to me - Let's pick on some other people shall we?

My friend:
"No stretch of the imagination"
She uses this all the time. I can only assume that to her, the majority of her friends have very uninspired imaginations, and can therefore never move beyond the ordinary.

My Daughter
"I'll like ___ when I'm six"
Not making that up. I have a list of about 30 things that she has decided she does not like at all - but she will when she turns 6. Her birthday party is going to be very strange if I decide to serve all the things that she will instantaneously start liking. Broccoli, broiled chicken and yogurt make for one bitchin' 6th birthday party.

Our very own - Ms. Picket
"wikkid"
Apparently her kids are extremely bright, however, their mother can't spell the word wicked (....you know I poke at ya honey...I love ya more than my luggage)

My husband:
"Doesn't Surprise Me"
Swear to God, that's his favorite response to anything I say.
ME: Holy Shit, Honey! Bill Gates came into my office today and starting giving free computers away.
HIM: Hmmm....doesn't surprise me....He's probably trying to work on his image.

The only way that story would surprise him would have been if Jessica Biel had delivered those computers....Naked.

My Sister:
"However, Comma"
Let me make this very clear....she says the word comma. I would really love for her to start vocalizing ALL punctuation.
"Hey Exclamation Mark Do you want to go grab a beer question mark There's a bar around the corner period"

Ok Exclamation Point Your turn period What's your 'word' question mark

Some jobs have to be done all the time. Toilets, laundry, dishes, etc. Some jobs only need to be done every so often. And there are those jobs, that always seem to take a back seat. Spring cleaning, organizing the garage, cleaning the top of the fridge.

Today was pantry assessment day.

When I got back from the grocery store, I realized that the food that was actually able be put away, was directly proportional to the amount of space I had left in the pantry. Therefore, half of today's shopping was going to have to stay on the counter.

So everything came out. Everything.










Now how many women do you know that would be willing to show everyone all their crap AND their messy kitchen?










First I would like to know why I felt inclined to buy Creamy Broccoli in a box. Second, I would like to know why I've held on to it for three years. Do you suppose every time I saw it I thought "Hmmm, not today - but maybe tomorrow I'll be in the mood for processed creamy broccoli"...










My dreams of fashioning the longest pasta necklace will soon come to pass.










I'm sure I'm keeping this for sentimental reasons. DOES Chicken Broth go bad?














What the shit is this doing in my house? Not only is it instant...but it's decaf? AND it's half empty? WTF?!?!














Sadly, I remember buying this. It was back when I was younger and wanted to be classy with my girlfriends and we made Mimosas. Even sadder is that I was about 24....which means I have packed and unpacked this damn bottle for 10 years, through two marriages and three houses.










Ironic, don't you think, that someone who very rarely cooks has this many fuckin' bottles of spices?










This had to have been a gift. Foengreek Seed? What the hell is that? (fyi - spell checker doesn't even know what the hell it is)














Here's another one. I'm sure you Chef's out there are rolling your eyes at me and thinking how sad I am because I don't utilize my Sate and Foengreek Seed spices...but I can honestly tell you I have never seen a recipe that called for it.










Seriously? Pickling Spice? As in the thing you use when you want to PICKLE SOMETHING? I don't even EAT things that are pickled...I'm sure as hell not going to MAKE something pickled.

So, there you go ya'll. The contents of my pantry. Maybe next week we can have a tour of my bathroom cabinet. I'm sure we'll find some treasures under there. Maybe toxic mascara from 1989.

For the most part, I consider myself a tidy person. I like for things to be where they belong - safe and snug in their hiding places - leaving counter tops and tables clear. Shirts and sweaters folded and put away - shoes placed on the shoe rack.

Then I had a child.

The former tidy-self I was is still in there - and tries to break free every so often - but to be honest, keeping up with the clutter is an often pointless task.

Who knew children required so much crap. In the beginning it was just bottles and bibs, which I could store in cabinets. But now it's every Lego imaginable, Play-Doh, 40 Barbies with their matching outfits, 28 trees worth of coloring books, puzzles, games, movies, train sets and those fucking toys you get at McDonald's.

It's everywhere.

Since I can't keep up with the clutter, I will make wise decisions in my furniture. Every coffee table I own is hollow or has drawers. The ottoman is hollow. I have baskets everywhere in the house for random droppings. My husband even has a basket for his keys, phone, change and iPod.

But now I have a basket problem.

They're fuckin' everywhere. I don't know where the hell anything is - because it's hiding place could be in any one of the 50 baskets strategically placed around the house. If I have to walk over something, I'll just pick it up and put it in the closest one.

If Princess Barbie wants to have a whole outfit, she'll have to travel to every room in the house, because I assure you one shoe will be in the bedroom basket, while the other will be in the kitchen basket.

The reason for this post? I cleaned and organized the kitchen/living room on Tuesday. We've managed to keep it clean for TWO. WHOLE. DAYS.

I had an interesting conversation with a colleague the other day.

We were all standing around the front desk discussing the economy in general, and someone asked if by me working full time, I made a profit after paying for pre-school. I laughed a bit and said I made enough to pay someone else to educate my child and what's left goes to beer. A gentlemen that was standing there jokingly said "Oh my goodness - What a horrible mother for working full time"

He then went on to say that the reason the economy is in the shitter is because of women.

I'm totally not kidding.

This is his theory.

Many moons ago, when women stayed home to tend to their homes and their children, our strong men went to work. With men being the only one that worked outside of the home - every household only had one income.

Then women wanted to work as well. All of a sudden some houses were TWO income houses.

So Joe, who owns the local TV store, who used to sell a TV for $50, can now sell it for $100 because he knows every household is making more money.

Did the follow the thought process?

So, basically women are bitches and we've ruined the world.

He assured me after this conversation that he was totally kidding....But I'm keeping my eye on him.

There's an old saying...

"If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"

I suppose it's the same for blogging. If you don't have anything witty and interesting to say - don't blabber. That's basically where I've been the last couple of weeks.

At first it started with nothing witty to say. There's only so much stuff you can type about a 4 year old before people start thinking you have nothing else in your life to talk about. Then all of a sudden I had too many things to talk about, and couldn't decide on just one, so ended up not talking at all.

Then the Fall TV lineup started - and my addiction to TV is much stronger than my addiction to you people. However, I will share a few things from the last few weeks.

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I told ya'll before that she's a dancing queen, right? Well, interestingly enough, the next day I took her to school and her teacher pulled me aside to let me know that they thought she may have some "natural talent" for dance. So, what does any self respecting mother do - I stuck her in a Saturday dance class.

$67 dollars for shoes and $275 for the class - and off we go.

It was supposed to be 15 minutes of ballet, 15 minutes of tap and then 30 minutes of gymnastics. She had her gym time first, and then a mad dash to get the ballet slippers on. After only 5 minutes of ballet - I could tell that the instructor was losing her. Screaming the word Plié over and over can't possibly be fun at this age. She walked out of the room and proceeded to tell all of the parents how BORING ballet is. I managed to get her to wait for a while, give it a shot - because I'm SURE that tap will be awesome.

Not so much. 12 four year olds in a small room all wearing tap shoes. She ran out of the room with her hands over her ears - forever scarred by how incredibly loud it was.

She starts full time gymnastics this Saturday. Apparently it's much quieter in there.

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I've been waiting patiently for Lego Batman to be released for my PS3. It finally did - and any chance I get I'll plop down and get through a level. I've learned that I can't play video games unless my husband is watching me. Three times now my little lego person has gotten stuck in a room and I can't get out. Three times now I've had to grab my husband and ask him to just sit on the couch for a minute. He'll walk in and be like "Why not use that door?"

It's either some magical male ability to master video games - or I desperately need to get new glasses.

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The only other news of interest (and I use that term VERY loosely)

Four times in the last week and a half I've had to pick her up from school early due to some major pooping issues. Last week they assured me that it was "going around the school" - some stomach bug thing. Some parents even took their kid to the doctor to confirm - and it is, in fact, some simple little bug that will work it's way out.

Just need to do a lot of laundry.

Well, that was last week. And all of the other kids are over it - except for ours (she's an individual, no?) Now people are thinking that maybe she's got an allergy. Because this amount of poop never happens at home - ONLY at school. And I can only send her to school with so many pairs of pants. Apparently it's not cool to crap in OTHER peoples pants. (I owe that mother about $10 bucks for her kids pink leggings)

So, that's it for now kids. Hopefully the clever witty me is back in the saddle - and that I can come up with cooler crap than, well, crap.