Of all things to impress him, it's my dazzling... sounds?

One night last week, the kids were a little hyper, in that pre-bedtime hyperness that all little kids are prone too.

I set them loose on their father, as well, it was his turn.  And it's funny for me to see him buried under all his children.  That's what he gets for knocking me up in the first place; an avalanche of arms, legs, and wayward feet that remind him of the reason why cups were invented for contact sports.  Usually, "Ooof!" is all I hear coming from the bottom of the dog pile.

Ben, however, was just a little too much to bear. He was so over the top, I feared for everyone's safety.  I stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and ordered him out.

As he went by me into the hallway, I happened to pass wind.  I'm human, it happens.

Of course, everyone in the room was already looking at me, because they thought I was going to put a hurt on Ben (of the tickling variety).

Instead, they were treated to something louder, and more potent.

I thought my husband was going to fall off the bed, he was laughing so hard.

"Oh, my god!  You didn't even flinch, you just let that one go,"  he said, amazed, impressed.  "That kid never stood a chance.  He never even suspected!!!"  Mr W exclaimed, as he doubled over.

Great.  Now everyone is in on it.

A chorus of voices:  "Mommy, can you teach me how to do that?"

That's the moment I've been waiting for all my life.  That special, bonding moment when I pass on one of the mysteries of life to my children, one they always remember nostalgically, Kleenex in hand.

Leave it to me, that it has less to do with the mysteries of their own hearts, and everything to do with gas.

I thought it was over, once the laughter died down, but Mr W keeps on chuckling about it. 

"There was no adjustment in your posture, no shifting of the hips, no appearance whatsoever you were about to let it go,"  he chortled just last night.  "I wish I'd have had a video camera to tape that,"  he goes on..."I'd send it into one of the funny video shows, and we'd so totally win,"  he adds.

Of all my moments of greatness, of all the times I have managed to love and not send the children packing, of all the other things I am so very talented at, THIS is the one thing he'd choose to immortalize?

Boy am I ever happy that I never remember to actually charge the batteries to the camcorder.

I'll just place this event in the file under "Things I Will Never Live Down."

It's time to get a new one anyway.

Call of the wild

(yawn)

There is nothing worse than getting up before the alarm clock.

Unless you are getting up before the alarm clock because your geriatric cat has decided It Is Time.

Ten beautiful minutes of boy-is-he-yummy dreaming interrupted by "Me--OWWWW"  "MEEEEEEOOOOOWWWWW"  "MEEEOWWW" 

Not since James Brown has there been a more effective use of the sound "owwww".

Surely there are air sirens more pleasant to listen to than my motherf**king cat.

(He channels James Brown, I channel Samuel Jackson.  Too early to drop the f-bomb?  I think not.)

"Kill it,"  I hear Mr W mutter, muffled under his pillow.

"You're the one with the weapons,"  I remind him as I go to see what the cat needs.

Pillow?  Blanket?  Blow up kittykat doll?

Stick of dynamite?

I'd do it, but I don't want to have to clean it up.

Sometimes love is a number

Audrey's response to almost anything, is "10-hundred 58".  You have to say it out loud, to get the effect.

For example:  "Audrey, what happened?"

"I was talking to Ben and I said "Please" 10hundred58 times and he still won't do it!"

More importantly, this number comes into play when we talk about love.

"I love you, my girl."  "How much?"  "So much, it's bigger than the world."  "I love you, Mommy, 10hundred 58."

This morning we were playing, she was climbing in and out of my lap, we were talking about her Littlest Pet Shop.  The insidiously cute Littlest Pet Shop, so cute you can't stand it, so cute that I am addicted too.  I can't even walk down the toy aisle where they live without caving. 

We were visiting the website, then playing a matching came on the computer.  I left her to do something else, so Dad filled in.

Oh, yes, the man who wears a badge and carries a gun to work was playing the Littlest Pet Shop matching game.

Even after she moved on to find out where I went.

The love question came into play again.

We went through our bit..."More than the world."  "10hundred58."  I hugged her, and pointed to her father at the computer.

"Go, ask Daddy," I told her.  She climbed up into his lap.

"I love you, Daddy." 

"I love you, too." 

"How much?"  she asked.

"10hundred59,"  he replied.  Why have I never thought of that?

He is sometimes so logical, it's maddening.

Then there are times he's so logical, it's perfect.

How old married people spend Valentine's day

My husband is home from work today.  I had no idea he was gonna take the day off, not until he told me late yesterday afternoon.

So this morning, all the big kids are off to school.  I heard voices, and thought Audrey was talking to him, but she was on the couch.  Curious, I walked into our room only to realize that work had called him, but it was nothing urgent; he'd hung up and was just laying there, awake.

Heelllo, gorgeous. 

Of course, what wife can resist crawling into bed with her hubby, if only to put her cold feet right up against him?

I snuggled right in, into my favorite spot next to him, and we went over what was going on today.  I am meeting and spending the afternoon with a friend later, and he's picking everyone up.

"Get ready to spend the afternoon in the car,"  I joked. 

Mmmm, he's warm.  I couldn't resist a little physical evil, even though I know it can go nowhere (Audrey is at home, and she has to be at a friend's house fairly soon.) I'm about to get really obnoxious about it when he pushes me away, just a bit.

"You've got to move,"  he said, "I have to get up to use the bathroom." 

I didn't move. 

"I'm gonna pee all over the bed, and start my old man routine now, if you don't move."

"I thought that routine started a few years ago."

"Get the f**k out,"  he said, as he started laughing and getting out of bed.

"If I'm the old man, I get the Cadillac today,"  he added as he closed the bathroom door.

I'll take moments like that, over the hearts and flowers gushiness of today anytime.

I think I have a few more minutes before I have to go.

heh heh heh heh heh....

I'm thinking about putting an "i" before my name

Although I've always managed to get mine to work, and always loved it, I've always regarded my iPod with a little suspicion; I recognize this little bit of electronic bliss must come at a price. 

Usually, the price involved gnashing of teeth and a few swear words before I could get things figured out.  I'd trudge along in the support section of the Apple tutorials and try to make sense of all those discussions and comments from the technogeeks who have the time and energy to figure it out, and were good enough to post it for the rest of us to see.

It was fine when I was on my own in the i-world, but as of Christmas and Nolan's birthday, I had two more folks on board the i-train, and they looked to me for all things iPod.

That's a lot of pressure to put on someone who barely manages to get her kids to school on time every morning.

Okay, 3 out of 5 days.

(Which, apparently is a problem for the school, regardless of my child's good grade performance--Ben announced to me just this morning:  "Mommy, the lady in the office wants to know what's going on at home..."  "What?  You mean, do I beat you or something?"  "No, what's going on at home that I'm tardy so much of the time."  Oy.  I bite back a remark about how the late-night prostitution ring I run isn't conducive to waking up at 6:30 am, but I want no more explanations, certainly not long ones, when we are heading out the door.  *A few minutes late.*  For the record, I hate mornings.  They hate mornings.  I am more than gullible when it comes to "just a few more minutes" and I challenge any of the office ladies to come and wake Ryan, whose sweet little seahorse shape, warm under the covers, just begs me to snuggle for just one minute.  Or ten.  I dare them.  Whoops.  I digress.)

So, anyway, I was faced with two very excited people in in my house, Nolan of the birthday Nano and Mr W with his so-small-they-should-implant-it-in-your-head Shuffle; both of them waiting for me to work my magic.

Why  me?

Because I'm a little bit protective of my laptop.  And it'smineit'smineit'smine.  (I'm so mature.)

I figured out the Shuffle pretty easily.  To be honest, I read through Appleland, got frustrated, and plugged the damn thing in, figuring I'd learn along the way, and I could always start over.  No one was as surprised as I was that it was so simple, and whoohoo, it worked.

The Nano was a bigger challenge.   It has enough memory to support the songs I already had in iTunes--but while we have similar taste in music, Nolan wasn't that keen on the idea of my girlie songs in his pod--even if hot girls were singing them.  It posed a problem, because I didn't want him to have his own acct on my computer (did  I mention, it'smineit'smineit'smine?), with his own iTunes acct full of stuff I'd already loaded.   The waste of space along with the redundancy of this solution really annoyed me.  

However, he kept at me with those big brown eyes...

I'm such a sucker.

I fixed it so we could get him started, certain I'd find a solution that would make me happy.

It only took me two months and a fortuitous trip to the library, where I found a book that touted itself as "iPod and iTunes, the Missing Manual."

So what if it was on the same shelf with all the other "____ for Dummies" books?  I usually do better when I read.  I'm a good student that way.  (I'd give a shoutout to certain other instructional things I've read, but this is a family show, and that journal is now private anyway.)

As of today, Nolan and I are in iPod heaven.  It's fantastic.  I'm trying to get everyone I know to cross on over to the dark side with me and feel the power of the iForce.

I feel like I might actually know what I'm doing.

Which of course means I probably don't know a thing.