Your traffic will be just fine.

I Talk Like a Mom Volume Two:

"Please take Brown Doggie out of the toilet. Nobody swims in the toilet."

"Yes, you have to wash your hands. Look how filthy your nails are. What? That's not chocolate. It's dirt." (And anyway!)

"Nobody broke your traffic. We'll put the cars back on the table. Your traffic will be just fine."

"It's OK, honey. Just poke your penis down with your finger. That way the pee pee goes in the toilet."

"Please don't put your yogurt in your pocket."

"You're right. Daddy is as tall as the Dumpster!"

"It is not yucky. It is not spicy. It's not yucky or spicy. It's scrambled eggs."

"Please stop drinking your bathtub water. Why? Because it has, uh, it has feet and butt germs."

Welcome to the dungeon; we've got fun and games. Now, what size of rubber glove do you wear?

So, I’ve been thinking about my whole alternate career dungeon idea and how it could be both an income stream and useful to us as a family.

Because, as you know, I have so much free time on my hands, and like to use it constructively.

Ohhhh, I make myself laugh. Anyway.

It seems to me that it's extremely important to screen clients very carefully. Because, of course, you don’t want anyone to feel duped or dissatisfied, and you want to attract the right type of clientele for your particular business.

To this end, I decided to develop a potential client questionnaire. It's a work in progress. At this point, it's something like this:

___________________

Your responses to the following will help us determine where your interests lie, and in which room of the dungeon we will spend the most time.

1. Please select your favorite household appliance (if more than one, circle all that apply):

1. Iron
2. Hand-held mixer
3. Oven
4. Washing machine
5. Vacuum cleaner
6. Dishwasher
7. Sewing machine

2. Do you have allergies to any of the following?

1. Latex
2. Ammonia
3. Nuts
4. Mold
5. Dust

3. I am afraid of (again, select all that apply):

1. Open flame 
2. Sharp knives
3. Burns
4. Running water
5. Whirlpools
6.  Mold
7. Germs
8. Other (list as many as necessary): ______________________

4. Please agree or disagree with the following statements:

1. Y/N  My arms could use some toning exercises.
2. Y/N  Clutter makes me twitchy.
3. Y/N  I don't do windows.
4. Y/N  When ironing, it's important to get the creases exactly right.
5. Y/N  I find scrubbing a shower extremely satisfying.
6. Y/N I prefer oven mitts to rubber gloves.
7. Y/N I make an excellent roast chicken with root vegetables.

5. Choose a safe word:

1. Lasagne
2. Windex
3. Grout
4. Starch
5. Brisket
6. Swiffer

___________________

Aaaand that's all I've got so far.

A friend of mine said that really, safe words should be easy to say and be one syllable. So "pommes frites," for example, is not ideal.

If you have any suggestions, I’d certainly be open to them.

And hi, it's Monday!

Lullaby and good night. Close your eyes and sleep tight. Little angels 'round your head, as you scream bloody murder in your bed.

For the most part, India is the biggest, sunniest dollop of happy joy you can imagine.

She loves the bath, she loves to play, she loves to eat new things, she loves dogs, she loves indoors and outdoors and really, almost everything so far.

She beams at us. She smiles at people on the street. She squeals in delight when she sees Jordan. As soon as you go in to pick her up in the morning she  bursts into smiliness and holds out her arms for you.

FRABJOUS DAY! CALLOOH! CALLAY!

She is just so happy. Except when she's not. Which centers mostly around sleep.

Because sweet India, it must be said, is not so much on the sleeping. It pisses her off to miss anything. And when she shrieks, she is shriiiiiiiillll. Yikes.

For naps and for bedtime, you can get her all drowsy and sweetly snuggled up against you, seemingly too tired to lift her little head. Then you lay her down gently, and while some of the time she just chucks her hands behind her head and falls asleep, other times, she raises holy hell.

Because as soon as she realizes what's going on, her eyes pop open and she is all, "OHHH, NO! NOT HAVING IT!"

Sometimes I keep my hands on her, willing her to settle, and she quiets.

Then I tiptoe away, and immediately she is all,  "DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME! GODDAMMIT, LADY! PICK ME THE FUCK UP! DID YOU HEAR ME?! NOOOOOO DON'T GOOOOOO!"

If I make the mistake of turning around and heading back to sooth her she's immediately all, "OH HI!" She beams! She holds out her chubby pink arms.

She's immediately delighted. "That rage? Was so 30 seconds ago. Actually, I was kidding! Hahaha!"

I leave her in her crib and pat her back, and she snuggles down. I wait until her breathing settles, until she seems comfortable and content.

And then I walk away.

The harangue begins immediately. "WHAT THE SHIT? COME BACK HERE! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!? I'LL FUCKING WAKE UP THE GODDAMN NEIGHBORS! SEE IF I DON'T!"

Open and close the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

"COME BAAAAAAAACK! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?"

I want to be all, "Listen, kid, yes, I can hear you. Everyone in the greater DC area can hear you."

Sinkholes are the new rabies

I don't know if I have more or fewer fears than other people, but one of my big ones is sinkholes.

It is up there with hippos and raccoons and rabies. The first of which I've been reminded I'm unlikely to encounter in DC.

Hipsters, yes. Hippos, no. Hipsters, they scare me not. Hippos can turn on a dime, and they're fast and mean. I doubt the same is true of hipsters.

Oh, also Cape Buffalo and swans (this one is new, as of Sunday). Did you know that swans will drown people deliberately? Symbol of purity and love and brutal drowning death.

In fact, now I wonder about the average number of fears of the average person. Five? Thirty-seven?

I might make a fear list.

Anyway.

Here's the thing. Yesterday this sinkhole opened up in our neighborhood. A sinkhole. In DC. In our neighborhood. I got messages and texts from friends, and immediately flipped out.

It just opened up, as they do. No warning. Reports were that it was 25 feet deep. A corgi, I was told, was nearly lost to it.

There was a lot of commotion and police activity and road closing and such surrounding the sinkhole. Which, you know, is appropriate.

Although it did turn out to be a sinkhole of the rather modest variety. Basically the size of a sidewalk square, and only 3-4 feet deep.

I know corgis have short legs, but really.

However. Sinkholes, they are no laughing matter. The ground opens up and that is that. Could be a little hole with a visible bottom. Could be a chasm to hell.

I mean, you know about that gigantor one in Guatemala that swallowed a city block? Or the guy who was just lying in his bed in Florida and this sinkhole opened and sucked him in and there he was, falling all the way to China.

I can't think of much worse than dying in a sinkhole in Florida, personally.

Maybe being hacked to death with machetes. Or being poisoned slowly. Or being drawn and quartered.

OK, so I can, now that I think about it. But it's up there.

Nick's father is ill, and his parents, who drive to Florida every winter, had to fly home to New Jersey last week. So Nick is flying to Miami and driving their car back this weekend.

Even before the sinkhole business, all that driving alone makes me nervous. I am a fretter. I just am.

And now, it turns out it's sinkhole season in Florida. SINKFUCKINGHOLE SEASON.

I mentioned this today and Nick was all, "What season?"

"Sink. Hole. Sinkhole."

"Yes. I forgot sinkholes are the new rabies."

That's right, my friend. That is right. Just as stealthy, and even more deadly.

Happy birthday, Nick!

Dear Nick,

Today is your birthday, as you well know. I came across this picture while looking through albums, and it brought back such good memories.

This was the best day of our honeymoon - a relaxing boat trip with interesting people, gorgeous clear water, and delicious sunshine. I felt like Turkey was kind of stressful, but in retrospect, this was the easiest, least complicated time of our lives together.

No house, no construction, no money worries, no kids, no eat-bath-sleep schedules. No tantrums. Well, almost no tantrums.

We just were. We got up when we wanted, ate and drank whatever we felt like, swam, took naps willy-nilly, read books, wandered around holding hands. We squandered our time and didn't even realize how much time we had to squander. It was lovely, being there with you.

But then we came back and there was the global crash and you had to work all the time and I got all pregnant and we moved twice and the stuff with my dad and the first baby and the C-section and the construction and the more construction and the second baby...

And yet, it is lovely being here with you.

I cannot imagine my life without you. None of it has been easy, but none of it has been as hard as it could have been. My world is so much better with you in it. You make me feel safe, you make me laugh, and you are the strongest person I know. We enrage each other sometimes beyond words, but life is never, ever boring.

I'll take laughter and rage over boredom any day. Boredom is easy to come by. Boredom is death.

Committing to you is the best decision I've ever, ever made. I'd say it was the best thing I'd ever done, but as you are well aware, we have two delicious, delightful kids, and they are stiff competition.

I love you more than sunshine.

Happy birthday!

Love,

Lisa