Absolutely Bananas: Seattle stay-at-home mom blog

Update your feed!!!

2008-06-26T09:34:00.003-07:00

I've moved to Wordpress, which means if you haven't seen updates for me in the past week, you need to update your RSS feed! http://feeds.feedburner.com/absolutelybananas

If you are vin diesel, CLICK HERE

2008-06-19T23:00:00.000-07:00

For today, I thought we could play a little game where we laugh and marvel at the WEIRD STUFF PEOPLE SEARCH FOR that leads them to my blog (the vin diesel edition):

(I am not making these search queries up. They are REAL and actual searches, typos and all.)

"if you are vin diesel"
Click Here!

"pin in my mouth"
Pin head.

eco friendly way to kill spiders
Um... smash them?

help i have fly at my house
Hello... FLY SWATTER...

how do you make an egg laugh
Tell it a yoke?

funny things your husband says
How about, "I help with house work." HA HA HA HA HA HA! Good one, honey!

i love gas-x!
ME TOO!!

And finally, the CLASSIC,
if you are vin diesel, yell veri loud

Now for some BUSINESS TYPE ITEMS:

I am (hopefully) going to be moving my site to Wordpress over the weekend, so you may experience some, err, downtime. Also it may look hideously ugly. Just so you know.

Secondly I am indefinitely suspending Make Me Laugh Monday based on the feedback that I've received. If you're one of the people who regularly participates, don't worry, I'm coming up with some other ways of sending you traffic.

Finally, Happy called again today... I just thought you should know. And no I'm NOT kidding. I had to use my no-nonsense MOM VOICE with him.

Have a great weekend! But not a happy one. Definitely not a happy one.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Don't Blink

2008-06-18T20:00:00.000-07:00

Today was CJ's last day of preschool.

Or, as I so morbidly think of it, the beginning of the end.

How is it that time goes by so fast?

How is it that my little teeny tiny baby is a BIG HULKING five year old?

Blink! he's walking

Blink! he's talking

Blink! he's in elementary school

Blink! Blink! he's a massive teenager with a chip on his shoulder.

Blink! Blink! Blink! He lives on the other side of the country and NEVER CALLS. I sit at home, alone, and knit.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END, I tell you!

If anyone is looking for me, I'll be over here in Seattle, trying my darnedest not to blink.

***
The other thing I'm doing is reading through and ruminating on all your excellent feedback. Keep it coming!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Wanted: Your honest feedback. Win a custom blog header or business card design!

2008-06-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

Time to get serious, people.

(hey you, stop fidgeting! Pay attention!)

I need your feedback. In an attempt to make Absolutely Bananas THE BEST BLOG IN THE UNIVERSE (insert maniacal laughter here) I'm going to be making some changes. Before I do that, I want to hear from you.

Specifically, what do you like and not like about Absolutely Bananas? What do you want to see more of? What could you do without? Do you have suggestions for making Absolutely Bananas better? Let me have it!

And, since I'm that kind of gal, each person who gives me HONEST, THOUGHTFUL and CONSTRUCTIVE* feedback will be entered into a random drawing to win their choice of:

1) A custom designed blog header (by yours truly)
-or-
2) A custom-designed business card (by yours truly). Note that this is only the design; you'll have to have the cards printed on your own dime.
-or-
3) A custom designed button (by yours truly)

*I mean it... only honest, thoughtful, and constructive commenters will be entered in the giveaway. No "You're nice" or "Stay cool." This is not a yearbook, people!

I'll do the random drawing on June 24th at midnight (PST), which means you have a week to enter.

Ready, set...

GO!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

To trade in or not to trade in. There's not even a question.

2008-06-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

I like to think of myself as a practical and well-informed woman. A savvy woman. A women in the know.

So when it comes to buying and selling cars, I have some hard and fast rules. These rules are based on research and experience, but mainly on what my dad always told me.

1) Thou shalt not buy a new car. Ever.

2) Thou shalt not trade in. Ever.

I will admit to you that every time someone buys a brand-new car (you know, the kind with that new car smell) I feel all judgmental and smugly think, tsk tsk tsk that is SO irresponsible. Every time someone tells me that they (GASP) traded in their car I nearly fall to the floor in horror.

OH THE HORROR OF THE TRADE IN!

DON'T YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH MONEY YOU'RE LOSING?

So yeah. Strong opinions.

The thing is, it's easy to have strong opinions about things you've never done.

And it's true that, until yesterday, I had never sold my own car.

Selling a car is a MAN'S WORK! is unspoken rule #3. Although I like to think that I'm a feminist and all about equal rights and gender neutrality, the truth is I'm totally not.

The funny thing is, every time we decide to upgrade or downgrade or sideways-grade or otherwise replace one car with a different one, I shout my rules at Jay's head.

"WE ARE NOT BUYING A NEW CAR!" I holler, "WE MIGHT AS WELL THROW OUR MONEY RIGHT DOWN THE TOILET!"

"But the new car smell... the 0% financing..." Jay's attempts to change my mind are inevitably met with firm and vigorous resistance. When I know something, it is a fact and therefore NOT open for debate.

If Jay dares to suggest the option of trading in our car I nearly come undone. "WE WILL NOT TRADE IN!" I shout. And taking this stance mandates that JAY handle the tedious and rather uncomfortable process of finding a buyer, negotiating the sale, and doing the paperwork.

This time, though, I decided that I would sell the car myself.

After all, it's my car in my name and I'm THIRTY so it's high time I start doing these things. Plus secretly I believe that I'm a way better negotiator than my dearest husband.

I list the car on Craig's List and Auto Trader. I get it detailed. I start fielding calls and emails.

Check! Check! Check! Easy, easy, easy.

Why didn't I do this before? Selling your car is totally SIMPLE.

You see what's coming, don't you? A big fat breakfast of EATING MY WORDS. Yeah.

The first person who looks at the car decides to buy it.

(I am such an amazing saleswoman)

His name is Happy (I'm not even making this up) and he's from Canada. Happy is his nick-name, short for something like Hareekmetshex Bazzlemubp.

Here's the thing. From the day I met Happy, my name has been Irritated. Because that man drives me crazy.

We make a deal, he gives me a $500 cash deposit, and we go our separate ways. Since he's from Canada and I'm from the U.S., we need to have all sorts of paperwork to finalize the deal. Like, for example, I need to get the title.

I pay off the balance of the car loan and wait for the title. I call Happy and tell him that I'll call him when the title comes in. I honestly don't expect to talk to him until then.

WRONG.

Happy calls my cell phone first thing the following morning and leaves me a voice mail requesting that I call him back. By the time I get the message, I have four missed calls from Happy.

"Hello! This is Happy! How are you?"
"Mmm fine..."
"I called you four times and you did not answer!"
"Yeah, well it's Saturday. What do you need?"
"Yes, I was just calling to check and see if you got the title yet?"
"No. It's only been one day, and I told you it'd be at least two weeks."
"Yes, I was wondering, can you drive to Olympia and pick up the title there?" (Olympia is 2 hours away)
"Uh, I don't think they let you do that."
"Can you call and find out?"

This is the first of many, many, MANY calls from Happy in which he makes requests and demands.

Can you take the car into the BMW dealership and have the lights modified?

Can you call the Dept of Licensing and find out the status of the title?

Have you gotten the title yet? Have you gotten it now? Is it there now? What about NOW?

Happy seems to be under the illusion that I'm a CAR DEALERSHIP rather than a PERSON WITH A LIFE.

I start to resent this constant intrusion on my life. I convulse in horror every time my cell phone rings. I hear the word "Happy" and want to punch someone.

Finally, I call Happy to inform him that the car will be sold as-is, and that I will NOT be spending my time running around having modifications made to it.

He gasps, as if I am totally letting him down. HOW DARE I not want to spend a day running errands for him? Isn't that his right as a buyer of a used car?

I say, "You know, this is turning into a hassle for me. How about if I send you your deposit back and you can find another car to buy. I'm sure I can find another buyer."

Which turns out to be a good approach. Happy immediately starts to backpedal.

Anyhow. After four weeks of Happy's daily calls I am ready to tear my hair out.

Then, at last, the title comes.

Happy and I seal the deal, sign the paperwork, and I hand over the car.

Jay and I breathe a HUGE sigh of relief. When we get home, we sit at the dining room table in a minor state of shock, just staring at each other.

Finally Jay says, "What a pain. I am so glad that is over."

"You're glad!" I shout, "What about ME?! I'm the one whose had to DEAL with that man!"

"I have to admit that I've changed my perspective on trading in," I continue, "I would gladly hand over a couple thousand dollars to not have to deal with that again."

Jay nods.

My phone rings.

I look down at the 604 area code and then at Jay. "It's him!" I whisper in horror.

I answer the phone and Happy is talking fast. With his accent, I can hardly understand him. Finally I make out his words.

"There's a picture of the WHOLE CAR by the speedometer!" he says, "I was just wondering, what is this picture?"

are you freaking kidding me?

I take a deep breath and then say, "Without looking at it, I can't really say, but I think it's always there." I pause, and then ask the question that really needs to be asked. "Did you check the manual?"

"No," he says, because really WHY WOULD HE CHECK THE MANUAL WHEN HE CAN CALL ME?!?!?!

I hang up and Jay and I look at each other in disbelief. "You're going to have to block his calls," Jay says. "You know he's going to be calling all the time, about every little thing."

He's probably right.

I lay my head face down on the table and practice deep breathing.

Eating your words is exhausting business.

I'm just ~~happy~~ GLAD it's over.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Make Me Laugh Monday

2008-06-15T23:15:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Make Me Laugh Monday!

In memorium of my downstairs computer (may it rest in peace), I bring you this close-up look at the Microsoft end-user agreement. You know what they say, if something goes wrong... BLAME MICROSOFT!

Click here to read it...

Here's the deal if you want to join in.
Write about something funny. It can be an anecdote, a joke, a picture, or a link to something funny... whatever. This is a NO PRESSURE scenario. If it makes you chuckle, it's good enough. I don't mean to create a stressful IS IT FUNNY ENOUGH type situation, if you know what I'm sayin'. Anyone can participate.

So you write the post. Then come and link it here so that we can all enjoy the funniness.

If you participate, here's the code to get the fabulous donkey graphic shown above;

And I should think it goes without saying but JUST IN CASE... any links that don't go to a Make Me Laugh post on your blog will be deleted, promptly.

And one more thing... several of us read these entries with a child sitting in our lap. Please use an exclamation point at the beginning of your link title if it's not suitable for young eyes. Happy Monday!

If you're reading this post in an email, you'll have to click here to the other Make Me Laugh Monday entries.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Reinventing date night

2008-06-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

Last night after CJ went to bed, I sat down on the living room floor and put together Legos for three hours.

See, I'd decided that they needed to be organized, and the only way that I know to organize Legos when they've gotten all jumbled together is to build each set and then put them away in their respective boxes.

I had it in my head that this could be a fun date night activity of shared laughter and play... Sort of like collaborating on a puzzle. Only different.

"Jay," I call out as he heads towards the stairs, "wanna do Legos with me?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Excuse me?"

"Legos! I'm putting Legos together. And, you know, I though we could like talk and bond and stuff while we put together Legos."

He shakes his head in disbelief. "No. I do NOT want to put Legos together with you." He sees my doleful expression and adds, "but I'll sit on the couch with my glass of wine and talk to you while you do Legos."

So he did.

And I did.

And... oddly enough... it was fun.

#245 on the list of things that I never thought I'd do before I had kids.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

I thought we'd come home with a baby but all I have is a bucket of vomit!

2008-06-12T22:05:00.000-07:00

Last night was the night before CJ's 5th birthday.

He is understandably antsy. After lying in bed for a while, he comes tip-toeing out. I give him my best, most sternest glare. "WHAT are you doing out of bed?"

"Mommy!" he says, "I already went to sleep TWO TIMES!"

I can't help but smile. "Really?"

"Yes!" he pauses, then asks, "Is it the morning?"

All I can do is hug him before gently guiding him back to bed. Because the truth is, I understand. I know about waiting and how hard it can be...

Really I do.

***
five years ago...

"I think my water just broke!" I announce triumphantly. After two days of walking, spicy food, and every other labor-inducing remedy known to womankind, this is the event we've been waiting for.

We rush to the hospital and are ushered in by a tired-eyed nurse, who tells me she'll run a test to see if my water really did break. I'm not feeling any contractions... or wait, was that one? At this point I'm having trouble distinguishing between contractions and gas pains.

"The test is positive!" she tells us, "which means, we'll need to induce you if you don't start having contractions soon." she leans in and says conspiratorially, "the on-call doctor wants to have you stay here overnight. But I convinced her to let you go home and sleep and come check in in the morning. We'll induce you then."

"Perfect," I say, although I'm not really sure why going home is a better option. It's not like I'll be doing all that much sleeping.

At 7am sharp we are back at the hospital, ready to have our baby. The nurse hooks me up and starts the pitocin. And we wait.

At noon, the contractions are coming hard and fast. We still haven't seen a doctor, and the nurses have been absent too. Mainly it's been me and Jay and this enormous belly and an empty room.

Jay watches the contraction monitoring device like it's a crystal ball. "THAT WAS A BIG ONE!" he shouts, and somehow the validation seems helpful.

Suddenly, my doctor appears to examine me. Brusquely his pulls on his rubber gloves and dives in without so much as a how-do-you-do.

"You're not dilated at all," he admonishes me in a tone that implies that I am NOT DOING MY JOB, "I'm not sure your water broke at all."

"But..." I murmur, "the test was positive..."

I didn't do anything WRONG!

... did I?

"Oh that happens ALL THE TIME." he says.

"No, I don't think your water broke. We're sending you home." He looks at me with disgust, and marches out of the room.

Sending me HOME?! Is that allowed?!

I give Jay a look of desperation. I've been hooked up to this pitocin for FIVE HOURS having contractions, and now they're just going to send me home?

Another woman would have raised the roof. But my mother raised me to be nice so I say nothing.

The nurse bustles in. "How far apart are your contractions?" she asks. Two minutes.

She gives me some morphine for the pain and unhooks me from the monitors and IV.

And, just like that, I'm out the door and on the way home, with a vomit bucket in my hand.

Is this really happening? TELL ME THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!

We sit in the car, wide eyed and probably in shock.

As each contraction racks my monstrous belly, I double over in pain. Halfway home I throw up.

Good thing they gave me this handy bucket.

I look over at Jay and giggle.

"What?" he asks, "what's funny?" What could POSSIBLY be funny at a time like this?

"I thought we were going to come home with a BABY," I moan, "but all I have is a bucket of vomit."

He grins and somehow I know that it will all work out, one way or the other.

***
"THEY GAVE YOU MORPHINE?!?!" my mother-in-law's face is horrified. As a nurse, she is experienced in drugs and, as a nurse in a plastic surgeon's office, she really knows her pain killers.

"Morphine is the worst possible thing they could give you! It causes vomiting!" she continues.

BLEGGGHHHHH HRRGGHHLLL

I wipe my mouth and pass the vomit bucket to Jay. "But... the nurse said it wouldn't cause vomiting," I say.

Then again, they did give me this handy bucket.

I'm starting to feel that our labor and delivery hospital isn't such a top-notch operation.

It's dinner time, and our house is filled with all the family that we had called the night before, ho rushed to Seattle for the grand event.

But, instead of sitting at the hospital cooing over a newborn as they'd planned, they're packed into our house like sardines watching in horror as I march my enormous misshapen body up and down the dining room moaning and grunting and groaning with each contraction.

Finally, I am lying in bed when I feel a massive spread of warm wetness all around.

"OHHH!" I shout.

"WHAT?!" exclaim the fifteen family members, rushing to my side.

I never intended to make this such a family affair. Yet here I am.

"I think my water just broke," I announce. And they rush me back to the hospital.

This time there is no question of whether my water broke. They check me in, hook me up, and let me go.

I'll spare you all the sordid details (haven't you already had enough)? I won't tell you about the anesthesiologist who, after warning me to stay still because one wrong move could be paralysis, couldn't seem to get the needle in the right place. I won't tell you how Jay nearly had to be escorted from the room because, peaceful though he is, he nearly jammed the needle in said anesthesiologist's neck.

I won't tell you about the PAIN OH THE PAIN or the VOMITING OH THE VOMITING.

Finally I find that I have one nurse on each side of me, each shouting different instructions.

"Push!"

"No, DON'T Push! The doctor isn't here!"

"Push!"

"Don't push!"

Finally I scream out, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!"

And AT LAST in runs the doctor (he was busy grocery shopping). He doesn't even have time to change into scrubs; just plops down by my feet and holds out his hands and is promptly doused in a wave of amniotic fluid.

Out comes CJ... a sweet bundle of pink baby amidst the mess of liquid goo.

The doctor holds him up and CJ pees all over him.

Well hello, CJ. I like you already.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

She listens but doesn't hear me at all

2008-06-11T19:16:00.000-07:00

One of the many excellent features of The Awesome Minivan is that it has cutting-edge voice recognition command capabilities.

(minivans are so high-tech)

In theory, it works like this.

The driver pushes a button and states a command.

"XM radio on."

As if by magic, the XM radio turns on.

When I learned about this feature, I was really excited. My minivan is on-par with Knight Rider. A talking car? How cool is that?

Only, as is too often the case with these types of new-fangled devices, the voice recognition is a little, shall we say, glitchy.

I say, "XM radio on,"

And the robot in the dashboard responds with a very confident, "High beams on!" and turns on my headlights to full brightness.

I look at Jay. "Seriously? That doesn't sound at all like what I said!"

He shrugs.

I try again. "XM RADIO ON!" I shout.

(shouting works for people who don't speak English, so it must work for car robots. Right?!)

"Passenger mirror defog!" responds my ever-so-helpful but rather misguided robot friend, and the mirror starts to heat up.

"NOOOOO!!!!!" I howl, "XM RADIO! ON!"

"I'm sorry, I do not understand. Please repeat your command."

Apparently this robot wasn't programmed to understand Hysterical.

I take a deep breath.

"Maybe you should try something else?" Jay suggests.

Ok, whatever.

I push the button and say VERY CLEARLY, "Change station to 103.7 FM."

"GPS home position set to current location."

I bang my head against the steering wheel. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! and somewhere in all the banging, my forehead hits the magic voice recognition button. WHAM! WHAM!

"XM Radio On!" shouts the robot.

And, as if by magic, my XM radio turns on.

If you're feel like it, head on over to Seattle Mom Blogs and check out my latest Essential advice for new bloggers post in which I give many tips for Fitting blogging into your life without losing your mind, relationships, and waistline. Now if I could only figure out how to follow my own advice!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Sun storm!

2008-06-10T19:13:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I read this article, which says that scientists think that sun storms may be linked to significant increases in depression and suicide.

These scientists theorize that humans, electromagnetic creatures that we are, are highly sensitive to stuff happening on the sun.

"The most plausible explanation for the association between geomagnetic activity and depression and suicide is that geomagnetic storms can desynchronise circadian rhythms and melatonin production," says Kelly Posner, a psychiatrist at Columbia University in the US.

I don't know about you, but I read that and all I get is Blah blah blah geomagnetic activity blah blah desyncronise HUH?!

So anyway I told my mom about the article, and hippy moon child that she is, she jumped right on the bandwagon. Of course the sun is impacting our moods!

Now, any time either of us is even the slightest bit sad, the other shouts out "SUN STORM!" And we immediately begin to giggle like 2nd graders.

The problem is, I find this so amusing that I've started shouting out "SUN STORM!" to people who are unloading their burdens to me who aren't in on our little game. I'm sure they just think I'm making fun of them.

What was my point here?

Oh, right.

This week I think there must be a HUGE, ENORMOUS sun storm of epic proportions. Possibly a typhoon or hurricane, even.

My mood is dour and dark and I feel decidedly gloomy.

Even shouting out "SUN STORM!" at random intervals doesn't cheer me up. (ok, so maybe it cheers me up just a little.)

I think, "I really should put up a blog post," and immediately there's that little voice in my head saying, "why bother? Blogging is dumb."

And then I'm thinking, "Really? IS IT dumb?" and while I'm questioning that, the voice comes back and says, "And also you're dumb too."

And I think, "AM I? I think I might be."

And I cycle down into a cold and moldy pit of despair.

Will I ever climb out?

Or will I rot here, wallowing in self-pity?

Only the sun can tell.

And from my view in gloomy old Seattle, I'm starting to wonder if it's even up there.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

and then POOF! it was gone

2008-06-09T23:25:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you know you SHOULD do something, but you don't? And you really don't know WHY you don't do the thing because every time you think of that thing, you think "I really should do that!" but still somehow the thing goes undone for days and weeks and years and decades...

And you would do it only you haven't done it for SO LONG and nothing bad happened and there are all these other things that you'd rather be doing so you continue not doing the thing that you know you REALLY SHOULD DO.

You know how that is?

This is a story with A VERY STRONG MORAL which I will yell at you at the end. For your own good, of course. Just thought I'd warn you.

For quite some time we have had two computers. There's my laptop which sits upstairs in the kitchen and gets daily use. Then there's Jay's computer which is the size of a small horse (and much more expensive), which sits in the downstairs office and holds ALL OUR FILES and EVERYTHING DEAR TO US.

We mainly use the laptop unless we need to download pictures or do taxes or save consulting files or... you know... important stuff like that.

So here's a thing that EVERY ONE OF YOU should be doing and I'm guessing a whole lot of you aren't...

Backing up files.

Do you do it? DO YOU?!?!

We didn't.

And we so TOTALLY know better.

And then our computer crashed and gave the "blue screen of death," WHICH, turns out really is the blue screen OF DEATH.

Because it results in much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

My teeth are gnashing even now just thinking about it.

All those digital images? Gone.

Tax returns? Gone.

Photoshop files? Gone.

EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN THAT I NEED? Gone.

It makes me sick.

So we took it to this fancy computer repair shop, who kindly charged us $150 to tell us SORRY, BUT WE CAN'T DO ANYTHING BECAUSE THIS IS STAGE FOUR AND THAT IS BAD.

And Jay says (with my prompting), "Seriously, nothing? Because there's pictures and other important stuff on there."

And they say, "MAYBE IF YOU TAKE IT TO THIS OTHER PLACE AND PAY FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS."

At which point my stomach leaps into my throat and bile mixes with air and I feel I definitely will die.

Cough

Sputter

GAG

"We'll pay the 5,000 dollars!" I tell Jay, "I must have those pictures!"

Which brings us to where we are today.

We haven't yet paid the vastly exorbitant sums of money and we deeply feel the loss of oh-so-many things.

And worst of all is that nagging knowledge that we knew better.

"I guess we're learning the hard way," I say to Jay. Then I throw my hands over my eyes and moan, "but I don't want to learn the hard way!"

Learning the hard way is totally lame.

So the lesson is this:

We have to learn the hard way.

YOU DON'T.

Back up your files!

NOW!

DO IT!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Make Me Laugh Monday

2008-06-08T22:19:00.000-07:00

I keep hearing about the amazing wonder that is the Wii Fit. It's a video game that helps you have FUN while you EXERCISE! Brilliant, yes?!

And yet... something seems a little off about the whole concept.

When I saw this parody on Youtube, it all came together. This spoof is a truly genius take on the actual Wii Fit commercial.

"Wii Fit combines the perfect balance of barely moving and doing mundane things."

If you're reading this post in an email, you'll have to click here to see my video and the other Make Me Laugh Monday entries.

Here's the deal if you want to join in.
Write about something funny. It can be an anecdote, a joke, a picture, or a link to something funny... whatever. This is a NO PRESSURE scenario. If it makes you chuckle, it's good enough. I don't mean to create a stressful IS IT FUNNY ENOUGH type situation, if you know what I'm sayin'. Anyone can participate.

So you write the post. Then come and link it here so that we can all enjoy the funniness.

If you participate, here's the code to get the fabulous donkey graphic shown above;

And I should think it goes without saying but JUST IN CASE... any links that don't go to a Make Me Laugh post on your blog will be deleted, promptly.

And one more thing... several of us read these entries with a child sitting in our lap. Please use an exclamation point at the beginning of your link title if it's not suitable for young eyes. Happy Monday!

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

My fantasies may never be the same

2008-06-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

"I want to see Iron Man," Jay says with conviction.

I roll my eyes.

"We are NOT seeing Iron Man when INDIANA JONES is in the theater. I mean, come ON!"

I don't want to be bossy, but... seriously.

Ok so this may be a "date night" and TECHNICALLY we should choose the movie "together," but again I have to say COME ON!

Seriously, people, rules don't apply when we're talking about THIS...

and THIS...

When it comes to those things I have only one response.

With a bit of wheedling and a teeny-tiny bit of whining, I help Jay to realize that he really WANTS to see Indiana Jones.

And so we find ourselves in the theater, bucket of popcorn propped between us.

The theme song begins to play and I feel the drool pooling under my tongue.

Indy! Indy! Indy! Indy!

Oops! Was I chanting that OUT LOUD?!

Anyway...

I hate to be the party pooper. Honestly, I do. But it has to be said.

When you go to the movies expecting a little bit of THIS,

And you get served some of this

Well, it's just not the same.

Call me ageist, but I want young Indy back.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Hot Mamas Know

2008-06-03T22:29:00.000-07:00

A long, long time ago, at the tender age of nineteen-almost-twenty, I skipped across the grass on my father's arm to speak binding vows of lasting love and devotion, exchange rings, and enter the bonds of holy matrimony.

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Nearly eleven years later I am lying on my mother's bed with my chin propped on my hands watching as mom pulls my wedding dress down from her closet where it has been hidden away, carefully wrapped up inside a sheet.

Ah the wedding dress.

What a BIG DEAL the wedding dress was. Miles upon miles of silk. The embroidery! The pearl buttons! The lace!

The cynical me... the me who's been married for very many years and who has become practical in her aged wisdom... this version of me would tell you that wedding dresses aren't worth it.

Spend the money on something else, I'd tell you.

And yet, as I gaze upon the dress now, I can't help but be sucked into the romance of it. It's so beautiful! So white! So elaborate! The buttons! The embroidery! The silk!

"It's like a PRINCESS DRESS!" CJ announces in breathless wonder. And I have to agree.

I hold it against my cheek, breathing in the smell of it, reveling in the crisp glossiness of the silk.

"Try it on, mommy!" CJ orders. And, while I wish I could, there are some things that are not meant to be. Me wearing this wedding dress on this day (with these hips) is one of those things.

I can't believe how fast time has gone by. That it's been ten years since I wore this dress. How long will it be before I look at it again?

But the sad fact is that these trips done memory lane won't be quite so lovely if the dress gets all yellowed and moth-eaten. And The Sheet, helpful (and cheap) though it may be, is probably NOT the optimal storage solution for a priceless artifact of love.

Here's where you come in. Do you have advice for wedding dress storage? What's the best approach?

***
Now it's your turn to share YOUR tips & tricks! Write your own Hot Mamas Know post on your blog, then come back and add a link to it here using the fields below. (get code for the graphic and more details on entering this event here)

If you're reading this in an RSS feed or in email, you'll have to click here to see the other entries.

It should go without saying but links that do not go directly to a Hot Mamas Know post on your blog will be deleted, quickly and with feeling. There, you've been warned.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Do as I say, not as I do. And STOP watching me!

2008-06-03T16:03:00.000-07:00

I've just finished making CJ a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and I dip my spoon in the peanut butter to sneak a mouthful.

Mmmm... creamy dreamy goodness.

Peanut butter straight from the jar is totally my weakness.

What I don't realize (until it's too late) is that CJ is watching me.

His eyes pop open as a whole new world of infinite possibilities flash before them.

If mommy can eat peanut butter straight from the jar... just THINK what else you can do!

This is not good.

***
Don't forget about Hot Mamas Know tomorrow! Also I have a post about Turning one-time visitors into repeat readers up at Seattle Mom Blogs.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Make Me Laugh Monday

2008-06-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

I love parodies, and this one is a goodie.

Safenow.org takes disaster preparation graphics by our lovely federal government and adds some pretty hilarious (and made up) captions.

Here's a few of my faves,

If a door is closed, karate chop it open.

If you are trapped under falling debris, conserve oxygen by not farting.

If you spot terrorism, blow your anti-terrorism whistle. If you are Vin Diesel, yell really loud.

They're ALL hilarious though, so you really must click through and view the rest.

Here's the deal if you want to join in.
Write about something funny. It can be an anecdote, a joke, a picture, or a link to something funny... whatever. This is a NO PRESSURE scenario. If it makes you chuckle, it's good enough. I don't mean to create a stressful IS IT FUNNY ENOUGH type situation, if you know what I'm sayin'. Anyone can participate.

So you write the post. Then come and link it here so that we can all enjoy the funniness.

If you participate, here's the code to get the fabulous donkey graphic shown above;

And I should think it goes without saying but JUST IN CASE... any links that don't go to a Make Me Laugh post on your blog will be deleted, promptly.

And one more thing... several of us read these entries with a child sitting in our lap. Please use an exclamation point at the beginning of your link title if it's not suitable for young eyes. Happy Monday!

If you're reading this post in an email, you'll have to click here to see the other Make Me Laugh Monday entries.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Face off: Jenny vs. the GPS

2008-05-29T23:43:00.000-07:00

"I don't want a GPS," I inform Jay (rather smugly), "I think they're unnecessary."

Jay shakes his head in disbelief. "You don't want a GPS. YOU. Seriously?"

He has a point... I do have a terrible sense for direction and a propensity for getting lost at the worst possible moment.

"I know it sounds weird," I explain, "but I just think that if I had a GPS telling me where to go all the time, I'd never know where I was or how to get anywhere."

"And that's different from now because...?" his tone is sarcastic.

I pretend not to hear him. (sometimes you just have to do that in a marriage)

I really don't want a GPS. I don't want a DVD player either. We don't need a DVD player in our car. It's good for kids to have to think... to look out the window... to get bored.

We don't need heated leather seats or satellite radio or a 6-disc CD player or 12 cup holders either. Yet somehow we get them, along with the DVD player AND the GPS.

What can I say... I'm a sucker.

Also, it's hard to say no to features when they're right there all shiny and new. You start feeling the need to collect them like broken seashells.

"My minivan has so many features," I find myself boasting, listing them off one by one as if the person to whom I'm talking actually cares about the backup camera or doors that open all by themselves.

So now I have a car with many features including a GPS, which I SAID I didn't want but now I'm finding is actually a really cool thing. First of all it shows my location on a map (which is not really all that helpful to those of us who are direction-impaired, but is definitely pretty and colorful).

Secondly, there's this feature where the GPS lady comes on and tells you EVERY SINGLE MOVE before you need to make it in order to get you to your destination.

This GPS lady, she has a soothing, pleasing tone and she always knows where to go. She's thoughtful and concise, and she never says confusing stuff like "West" or "North."

Still, after following her directions for a while, I find that the rebel inside me starts to rise up.

(I don't like to be told what to do)

"Turn left in one quarter mile," says GPS lady.

I grip the steering wheel just a bit tighter. I don't think I will, I mutter to myself. And what are you going to do about THAT?!

"Turn left here," says GPS lady.

Ha ha ha ha! I'm NOT turning left! Now what are ya gonna do with me? Huh? huh?

"In one mile, U-turn," says GPS lady.

Oh no... I don't think so!

"In one quarter mile, make a U-turn."

"I'M NOT U-TURNING!"

"Take the next right, and then right again," She's trying a new tactic. But I WILL NOT BE FOOLED. A u-turn using fancy direction speak is still a u-turn.

"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!" I howl in gleeful delight.

"Mommy?" CJ peers up at me from the backseat, "Mommy, why are you yelling?"

"Oh never mind, CJ," I say, "Just put on your wireless headphones and watch your DVD."

Back to my showdown with the GPS lady.

Oh that's right, I'm still not turning around. I'm in charge here!

Did she just say, "Turn this car around RIGHT NOW, young lady!"?

No, I must have imagined it.

At last she concedes victory over to me (AHA!) and comes up with a whole new route based on my last-minute deviation. Truth be told, she is surprisingly unruffled by my failure to obey.

I have to admit I admire her.

She's spunky, the GPS lady.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

***
Get your tips ready for Hot Mamas Know on Wednesday, June 4th!

Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Statistically insignificant data on husband blog reading practices

2008-05-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

Last week I asked, does your husband read your blog?

63 of you answered.

And, since 'number crunching' is my MIDDLE NAME (and you thought it was bananas!), I decided to put this excellent information to work.

Does your husband read your blog?

Turns out 44.8% of your husbands (or significant others) read your blog regularly.

"Yes. He reads. And he comments. And what do you think of that?? Ask that question of your readers, because my hubby asked if it's appropriate for him to comment." ~shejusthadtosayit

Well, readers? What do ya think?

A whopping 17.2% of your husbands know about your blog, but don't read it.

"My hubby hates anything to do with computers and the internet and does not touch the computer at all. I told him last year that I had started a blog and he thought that I was sick and had to go to the doctor." ~bloggers
Well bloggers, I say run with that. "I'm sick with the blog and there's only one thing that can heal me... foot rubs and breakfast in bed. Doctor's orders!"

Another 15.5% only read your blog when forced.

My husband reads my blog when I force him to. He pretends to enjoy it. I think he thinks I'm weird (but he loves me anyway--I hope). ~Jen
Well Jen, we think you're weird but we definitely love you anyway. And as for your husband, I like to imagine you standing over him brandishing a frying pan. "READ IT," you bark at him. It's Desperate Housewives gone blog. Scary!

10.3% of your husbands read your blog occasionally.

"He knows about it and occasionally reads. It actually kind of hurts my feelings that he doesn't read more often since this whole blogging this is such a huge part of my life." ~Jennifer
Ok Jennifer, I think it's time that I let you in on a little secret. Start writing intimate secrets about your husband. Exaggerate his worst traits. Lie, even. Make up stories about your many admirers. And watch how quickly he becomes an avid reader! It works every time.

This one might be my favorite... 3.4% of your husbands read your blog in secret.

"Mine reads, but pretends like he doesn't." ~Shamelessly Sassy
I long for the day when I sneak down in the dead of night to find my husband hunched over a laptop, his face ghoulish in the blue glow. He hears me behind him and quickly changes the screen to internet porn. But he's TOO LATE, I've seen what he's doing and he's READING MY BLOG. "Aha!" I shout, "caught ya!"

And finally 3.4% of your husbands are totally unaware that you even have a blog. (poor dolts)

"I have thought about it over and over about telling my husband about my blog. I think he would read it, but I worry about what how he would react. Would he be supportive or critical? Or would he not care at all? So for a year now I have wondered those things, and here I am still wondering. My biggest fear is that I would have to filter myself if my husband and family read. I do not want to hold back things would like to say there just because they are reading." ~Mommy Daisy
Well, Mommy Daisy, I always say that a marriage based on lies and deception is a marriage that's sure to last. Just kidding. But seriously, I hear you. There's a whole lot of stuff that never sees the light of my blog because my husband reads it (not to mention the in-laws!). Most of the time I convince myself that this is a good thing, but other times I long to be able to vent and moan and complain with utter abandon. I guess that's what my journal's for, huh? But how come it's so much less fun?

And that's all, folks.

Well, except for one more thing... I just published my latest Advice for New Bloggers post over at Seattle Mom Blogs, in which I talk about the basics of Search Engine Optimization. Go on over and read it... if you're not sick of me already!

Things that go bump in the night

2008-05-27T00:35:00.000-07:00

It's after midnight and I'm exhausted. I have a nasty cold, my nose won't stop running, and my head aches and aches. It's been a long day and all I want to do is sleep.

But I cannot go to sleep.

Our king-sized bed seems massive when I'm the only one in it. Our darkened house is foreign, eery, and fraught with danger when I'm the sole protector.

I kick off the blankets, sit up in bed, and...

What was that noise?

I cock my head to the side, listening intently. I am almost positive that something when BUMP downstairs.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Ever-so-quietly I creep into the hallway and down the stairs. The moonlight shining through the window casts an eery glow across the basement.

It is silent.

But wait... over there...

What is that shape there in the shadows?

I feel as though I'm in the clutches of a bad dream, frozen to the spot, helpless to move. My heart races like a thousand horses inside my heaving chest.

Frantically I look around for a makeshift weapon.

WHY don't I believe in guns, again?

Right now a semi-automatic or sawed-off shotgun is sounding pretty good.

WHY did we settle on goldfish rather than an attack dog?

I'd give my left elbow for a drooling rottweiler right about now.

Unfortunately the closest thing that I have is the broom resting against the wall.

This will have to do.

I pick up the broom and advance toward the suspicious shape.

Outside I hear a car engine starting up. A cloud crosses in front of the moon and the room darkens. My heart is pounding so forcefully that I fear it will beat its way right out of my chest and onto the floor.

As I get closer, I see that the shape that I'm about to attack is only a pile of unfolded laundry.

Blasted laundry.

I straighten up and heave a sigh of relief.

Might as well check one more time to make sure the house is secure.

And so I begin the fifteenth vigil through the house, checking to see that each window and door is fastened and bolted, and examining the closets and corners for evidence of lurking hoodlums.

It's all secure. Still.

The only thing lurking is dust bunnies... and they're harmless.

Wearily, I return to my bed.

The house is secure. I tell myself. Nothing is going to happen.

So why can't I sleep?

And WHAT was that bumping sound?

The hairs along the back of my neck stand at attention.

This is going to be a LONG night.

Somehow I do actually survive this seemingly endless week of nights in which I battle imaginary burglers all alone while Jay "works" in London.

Finally, after getting his fill of biscuits and tea or bangers and mash or kidney pie or WHATEVER he is eating over there, Jay flies home across the Atlantic Ocean and into the arms of his bleary-eyed wife and amazingly well-rested son.

Who are VERY glad to see him.

***
If you live in Washington or Oregon or B.C. or have an inclination to visit one of these places, come check out our very excellent giveaway on Seattle Mom Blogs where you could win two nights at a beach cottage on the Washington coast!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Make Me Laugh Monday

2008-05-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

This week for Make Me Laugh Monday I want to introduce you to Exploding Dog. This guy does two drawings each day based on reader-submitted captions. His stuff is really great, and some of the drawings totally crack me up. Like, for example, this one:

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

Or this one:

"I am so happy your beard is gone."

sam brown, explodingdog

Here's the deal if you want to join in.
Write about something funny. It can be an anecdote, a joke, a picture, or a link to something funny... whatever. This is a NO PRESSURE scenario. If it makes you chuckle, it's good enough. I don't mean to create a stressful IS IT FUNNY ENOUGH type situation, if you know what I'm sayin'. Anyone can participate.

So you write the post. Then come and link it here so that we can all enjoy the funniness.

If you participate, here's the code to get the fabulous donkey graphic shown above;

And I should think it goes without saying but JUST IN CASE... any links that don't go to a Make Me Laugh post on your blog will be deleted, promptly.

And one more thing... several of us read these entries with a child sitting in our lap. Please use an exclamation point at the beginning of your link title if it's not suitable for young eyes. Happy Monday!

If you're reading this post in an email, you'll have to click here to see the other Make Me Laugh Monday entries.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Random displays of affection

2008-05-23T09:28:00.001-07:00

I am lying with CJ in the minutes before he drops off into sleep. He snuggles close, pushing his face to my face so that his large eyes peer into mine.

Ever-so-tenderly he lifts his mouth, teeth bared, and makes a move as if to bite my nose.

"Hey!" I shout, jerking away, "What are you doing?"

He sighs, "Mo-om, I just want to bite your nose."

"No!" I respond, "You're NOT biting my nose. Now stop this nonsense and go to sleep."

"But mom, I just want to bite it a little," he says, very seriously.

I hold my ground. "No. Not even a little."

"I'll just bite it really gently. Like this." He demonstrates a gentle nip on the air, but I remain unconvinced.

"CJ, you're not biting my nose and that's final."

"Pleeeease?"

"No!"

He heaves a big sigh. "Fine." I can tell he's thinking, mom's being unreasonable again.

As he snuggles down into his blankets, I stifle a snort of laughter.

You know that you're loved when your child wants to eat you.

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Never say never, Part II. The beginning of the end.

2008-05-20T11:16:00.000-07:00

continued from this post...

I lug my bag out of the house, down the stairs, and to the curb where my girlfriends are waiting inside Meg's minivan, which will be transporting us away from kids, husbands and chores for a whole weekend.

Meg presses a button and, as if by magic, the back door magically rises.

I peer inside. There's so much space! I toss my bag inside, wave one last time at Jay and CJ, and climb in back. Meg throws the van into Drive and points us towards freedom.

The music plays, my seat reclines, and we are young again.

As it turns out, this trip is the beginning of the end.

The beginning of my amazed admiration for the thing best known as the minivan, and the end of my snobbery against this harbinger of practicality.

We make the 7+ hour round trip in absolute and utter comfort.

And when I return, I start looking at my little BMW in a whole new light. A less rose-colored and more skeptical light.

$100 for an oil change? Who has that kind of money?!

It's so SMALL. So crowded.

I can't even fit CJ's bike in the trunk!

And Costco? Ikea? I have to PLAN these trips to make sure I can actually fit my purchases in the car.

Yeah sure it can zip around the city at delightful speeds, but the cup holders leave a LOT to be desired.

And you and I both know that it's ALL about the cup holders.

I find myself watching for minivans as I drive around Seattle. I notice the people who drive them.

Hmm, she's actually cute. Stylish. Not at all lame.

I started noticing models and makes and colors and body types. I even started reading about them online.

Here's the thing. Taking a road trip in a minivan is akin to just having one Dorito, or spending a weekend at a friend's house with HDTV, or getting your hair done at the really high-end salon, just this once.

When you get a taste of something good... you're gonna want more.

Suddenly I find that I'm thinking about cars differently.

Why do I put some much emphasis on the outside?

Isn't it the inside that actually matters? Because aside from walking out to your car in the parking lot, the number of times that you actually SEE the outside of your car is pretty limited. The inside, on the other hand, is something you get highly intimate with.

There's a greater life lesson here, I just know it.

Outside, inside... oh never mind.

So anyway, this weekend I find myself at a Honda dealership saying the UNTHINKABLE,

"we want to look at the minivans."

We look at minivans.

And, you know? The minivans speak to me. The cup holders... the heated seats... the GPS... the rear backup camera... the infinitely flexible seat arrangements opportunities... the cup holders (all 12 of them)...

It's like the whole inside of that Honda Odyssey is just calling out my name.

Jennnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyy!!!

How can I say no?

And so I buy one. (gulp)

Step away from the unsubscribe button. I'm bound and determined to prove that you CAN be cool and drive a minivan.

As a start, I've designed my very own series of bumper stickers. Check 'em out.

And finally (Kimmilyn, this one is for you),

And that, my friends, is the story of how I became less cool but more responsible in one single day.

The end.
(but isn't it really the beginning?!)

***
If you're in the mood to talk about blogging, come on over and read the latest post in my Advice for New Bloggers series on Seattle Mom Blogs, where we talk about Establishing a readership through networking.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Never say never, Part I. In which I ask, "If my car doesn't define me, WHAT DOES?!"

2008-05-20T09:41:00.000-07:00

"You should get a minivan," my mother-in-law pronounces, "It's the practical thing to do."

Jay nods in agreement, but before he can speak I silence him with a fiery glare.

"We are NOT getting a minivan. No. Never. That's final." I hear my voice getting shrill but am helpless to stop it.

Jay exchanges glances with his mother. Glances that clearly say, she's being unreasonable again.

"I'm NOT being unreasonable!" I protest, "I just hate minivans!"

One of my friends says that you should never say never, because the minute you say you'll never do something, you've cosmically signed and sealed a deal that you definitely WILL do that thing.

To which I say, HOGWASH.

I am in control of my destiny. If I say never, than NEVER is what I mean. I don't mean most definitely in the distant or maybe not-so-distant future.

But back to the minivan. You're probably wondering what I have against minivans.

Here's the thing. I don't have anything against minivans, per se. I think they're really great... for other people.

It's just that, ever since I can remember, I've had a thing about cars.

Some women are really into shoes. Some women love jewelry. Some women are all about designer bags. Some women are addicted to scrapbooking. I like all of those things (well, except the scrapbooking), but I'm not obsessive about them. I couldn't pick a pair of Jimmy Choos from a line-up, and I doubt if I could tell the difference between a diamond and a cubic zirconium.

I do know cars.

I love cars.

Several years ago I got promoted, moved out of a cubicle and into an office, reached my goal of making over six figures, and decided that I had finally ARRIVED.

I didn't go out and buy a $3,000 pair of shoes or a Coach bag. I marched down and bought myself a BMW.

(It was used; I hadn't arrived that much)

And it felt GOOD.

I love my little BMW. I love how much power I have right there at the tap of my toe. I love the heated leather seats and the windshield wipers that come on when they SENSE that it's raining (because who wants to have to turn on windshield wipers, I mean SERIOUSLY). I love the sleek lines of the exterior, the shiny chrome on the front, and the purr of the engine.

And the thing that I don't admit to very many people (well, to anyone, actually) is that I love that I drive a BMW. I love that it's MY car in MY name that I OWN. I love that I beep-beep the little key fob and open the door and get into the coolest car in the parking lot. Well, sometimes. Definitely not the worst car.

I guess, on some level, if I'm really, really honest, I've let my car define me.

The problem is, a year ago when I quit my job, Jay and I sat down to figure out how we would live without my income. One of our conclusions was that we needed to be a one-car family. We sold our SUV and planned to sell the BMW as well, and replace it with something practical.

Nearly a year and a half went by and somehow we still have the BMW.

Maybe I just wasn't all that motivated to sell.

But as time goes by even I have to accept the fact that our car is cramping our style. Literally. We can't fit CJ's new bike in it. We can hardly fit three people in the backseat. It's expensive to fix when something goes wrong and... did I mention how small it is?

I start to get excited by the idea of getting a different car. I read reviews for the BMW X5, which we could get used for a reasonable price and which is obviously the perfect PRACTICAL family vehicle. I research Volvos and Volkswagens and Audis.

It's possible to be practical AND cool, I think, you just have to be committed.

But in the back of my mind there's a little voice that wonders, why is it so important to be cool?

What exactly have you learned from this journey in which you quit your job, turn 30, and start to actually grow up?

Isn't it that happiness often comes from the least expected places?

That it's SATISFYING to give up your preconceptions and society-induced ideals?

That living with less is actually more pleasant than having more?

It makes me uncomfortable, that voice, probably because it's always right.

Fortunately I have the OTHER voice to keep things interesting. The one that says, I don't care how practical it is, you can't listen to your mother-in-law!

And anyhow, if your car doesn't define you, WHAT DOES?

That is the question.

To be continued...

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

Make Me Laugh Monday

2008-05-18T22:31:00.000-07:00

Don't we ALL have one of those people in our email network... you know, the one who forwards fifteen emails a day, each with the telling"Forward this email to ten people you love" at the bottom? (We'll call her "Aunt Margo")

Bless her heart, we know she means well. But still! Chain letter after internet hoax after vomitously cute puppy picture... makes us want to reply with "unsubscribe" in the subject line.

(only we're way too nice to actually do it)

Which is why I adore this very helpful "should you forward that email" decision tree. Print it out and paste it above "Aunt Margo's" monitor (or tattoo it to the back of her hands) and voila! problem solved!

Here's the deal if you want to join in.
Write about something funny. It can be an anecdote, a joke, a picture, or a link to something funny... whatever. This is a NO PRESSURE scenario. If it makes you chuckle, it's good enough. I don't mean to create a stressful IS IT FUNNY ENOUGH type situation, if you know what I'm sayin'. Anyone can participate.

So you write the post. Then come and link it here so that we can all enjoy the funniness.

If you participate, here's the code to get the fabulous donkey graphic shown above;

And I should think it goes without saying but JUST IN CASE... any links that don't go to a Make Me Laugh post on your blog will be deleted, promptly.

And one more thing... several of us read these entries with a child sitting in our lap. Please use an exclamation point at the beginning of your link title if it's not suitable for young eyes. Happy Monday!

If you're reading this post in an email, you'll have to click here to see the other Make Me Laugh Monday entries.

***
Don't forget to subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed!

©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.

The source of endless energy

2008-05-15T08:45:00.000-07:00

Where does he get his ENERGY? I wonder. It's the end of a long day, and CJ is still going strong, racing and zipping around the house... leaping and bouncing and boinging up and down...

From my seat on the couch I can't help but notice that he keeps sneaking into the kitchen and then re-emerging with a sly half-smile that I know only too well.

So I follow him.... entering the kitchen just as he is coming out.

I take a quick look around. Hmm, nothing seems amiss. Maybe I misjudged him.

(Note: If you think you've misjudged your four-year old... look harder)

I open the fridge. Still nothing out of the ordinary.

What could he be up to?

He's standing looking at me with sparkling eyes and a smile that says "I've been up to no good."

"What are you doing, mommy?" he asks me.

I don't respond.

Suddenly I see it. Sitting on the counter next to the fridge is an innocuous-seeming cup.

I look inside the cup and see that it's filled with maple syrup.

CJ has poured himself a cup of maple syrup and has been sneaking into the kitchen to have a sip every now and again.

There are no words.

Only...

Help!

***
I'm guest posting over at Fussy's place today (you know, while she has her baby and all). Go over and read all about THE ULTIMATE DEFINITION OF ME.

If you need a little help in the organization arena (and really, who doesn't?!), be sure to enter my giveaway for a 15-piece set of Kids Klutter Katchers before Friday!

***
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©2008 Absolutely Bananas. All Rights Reserved.