Daddy Is Tired

A note to my relatives:  Stop reading now.  No, seriously.  Stop now.  There are some things you can never unlearn, and this is one of them.

The other day I was trying to figure out how to make an easy dessert using pudding and a can of crushed pineapple.  I knew you mixed them together, but couldn’t remember if you added anything else to the mix.  And, like I do whenever I’m stumped, I turned to The Google.  You can try this experiment too (unless you’re related to me, in which case, I’m warning you…just click the little “x” up there to close this page).

Hit Google.  Start typing “pudding” and watch what comes up as a suggestion as you finish typing.

ZOMG

That’s right.  Pudding farts.  The FIRST suggestion, for goodness’ sake.

Now, I’m an intellectual.  So of course I had to go see what a pudding fart is.  It was purely for research, not because I’ll look at absolutely anything online.  And lord knows I’ve seen just about everything online.  Sometimes I feel like every link I click on steals a little piece of my soul.  Anyhow, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say it’s not as awful as you may think, and yet it’s even weirder than you may think too.  God, people are bizarre.

I’ll give you a minute to check it out.

And now if you need to clean pudding farts (or the related meatloaf farts, cake farts, or heaven forbid chocoteeth which I hope you didn’t watch because ZOMG MAKE IT STOP) out of your head, here are some cute puppies for you to enjoy instead.

While I was wiping my daughter’s butt – yeah, like many parents most of my stories involve bodily functions – my daughter started talking about how she didn’t want to flush peaches down the toilet.  Then she informed me that pee and poop were okay to flush, but she didn’t want to eat them.

THANK GOODNESS!

Then she went on to say that farts were okay to flush too, but we couldn’t eat them.  And then out popped:

“What if someone put their mouth right on someone’s butt and waited?  And then what if the other person stopped holding it and farted in their mouth and then the other person started barfing all over?”

I swear – I SWEAR – that I haven’t shown her the video I know 75% of you are thinking about right now.  But with stories like that, is it any wonder she doesn’t want to go to sleep?

Lately I’ve been trying to remember what I think about when I run.  Since I usually zone out that’s been tougher than I thought, but I have managed to remember a few things.

Of course there’s the requisite ogling of women.  What can I say?  There are some hotties out there!  Oh, hi Sharon.  Hee hee, uh, well, hmm.  So, how was your day?

I also think about how fast I’m running compared to last time, and trying to figure out how fast I might run a 10K.  I think about random song lyrics (and by “random” I mean “Alter Bridge”), where the next bathroom is, Twitter…lots of dumb stuff like that.   Lately I’ve been thinking about the Tiarathon (Disney Princess 1/2 marathon) that I hope to be doing in March with other Shredheads, which leads to thinking about a Disney trip with the family.  Mostly  mundane and boring stuff.

But then there’s the weird stuff.  The stuff that makes me wonder if I’m really qualified to be watching children all day long.

The other morning I found myself thinking about the people I was running by – what their stories might be.  That’s not unusual, but after passing one old man I actually thought about if he was an older version of me coming back from the future to watch the “now” me run.  I even came up with some theories of why I’d want to come back to watch me.  After all, he must have looked away because if we make eye contact something bad will happen to the universe, right?

WTF?

Sometimes I think it’s better if I don’t remember what I think while I run.

I guess I’d better start by explaining that Ellie likes certain rituals.  A lot.  Enough that I’ve talked to her doctor about it.  Her bedtime ritual had blossomed into a parade of words and gestures (like sign language for “I Love You”) that had to be repeated in a specific order, and a mistake meant starting over.

She ended up being flexible enough about them that we’re not worried (yet).  The bedtime ritual was trimmed to a few “special words,” which is significantly better, and something we can handle.  But lately she’s added a bathroom ritual that seems like a bit much.  I mean, seriously, how often do you hear a 4 year old yelling this in the bathroom at full volume?

So long, turd!  So long, pee pee!  So long, toilet paper!  Go down, now!  Now, now, NOW!  Marry that turd, go down!

At the beginning of toilet training we had her say “bye bye” to the pee/poop, so that stuff I can see.  But “Marry that turd”?  Seriously, WTF?

I’m not usually one who remembers my dreams, unless they’re particularly strange or about something unusual.  One I had the other night apparently qualifies, because I still remember it very clearly.

In my dream Sharon was working late, the kids and I had finished dinner, and I was getting them ready for bed.  It was a typical evening, except it wasn’t any house we’ve ever really lived in…but it was definitely our house.  You know how it goes in dreams.  Much like our real house, this house was very disorganized.

Not much detail on the clutter specifically stood out – there was a lot of stuff around – but I do remember that our mixing bowls were scattered all around the house.  And the green one, which I use for popcorn in real life, was filled with water on the floor in the kids’ room.  Oh, and the bed was just a mattress on the ground with a flat sheet thrown on top, really messed up.  Hey, I just dream them, I don’t explain them.  I promise our house isn’t that bad!

Someone knocked on the door while we were reading on the bed.  That’s already unusual because we never have visitors.  (Antisocial or just losers?  I’m never sure which.)  I opened the door to find two people I’ve never actually met waiting for me:  Kyran, from Notes to Self, and Jillian Michaels, from 30 Day Shred.  Cue the boom-chicka-wow-wow music. I invited them in, and Kyran told me she and Jillian were here to…help me get organized.

Wait, what?  Cue the scratching-across-the-record noise!

Yes, they came over to make me get organized and declutter.  I must have some kind of problem.

They came in and Jillian played with the kids while Kyran and I went around the house organizing junk.  Although the organizing only consisted of us walking around finding the mixing bowls and stacking them correctly.  Jillian is the one who found the green bowl with the water, and she gave me a lot of crap about it.

I know where some of this comes from – I really need to get organized.   Kyran has written several posts about getting her new house decluttered and organized, and that’s motivated me to get organized in real life.  Well, maybe not completely motivated.  I did buy a labelmaker, though.  I guess I probably need to do more than that.

I’m not entirely sure what Jillian was doing there, besides entertaining the kids.  I guess I’ve been doing too many of her workout videos.  I mean, who dreams about Jillian Michaels coming over to your house to play with your kids?  Don’t worry Team Jillian, I’m not stopping doing the videos!

I guess it’s also possible that I ate way too many jellybeans over the weekend, and that my brain was confused by all the sugar.  Oh well…it doesn’t matter.

I have to get going to Target to buy some clear plastic bins for all my labels!