Death from Above

Dear Salem,
In case you're wondering why you have turned out to be such a
weird-o, this piece of information may help:

When you were a small child, around the age of three, your daddy set out for a fun day of shooting a potato gun into the unknown with his tiny ammo-feeder side-kick. That tiny ammo girl is you.

Love , mimi
(Mimi is the little nick name you gave me when you were about 1 and a half years old.)

Ve Vant to Suck your Blood

"Mom"?
"Yes babe?"
"We need to leave the park right now."
"Okay, why?"
"These mosquitoes are going to suck out all of my blood and then I will not be able to go to school."
"Well, lets get movin'!"

Pirate

This man is possibly Salem's first crush. She calls him "Pirate". He was over the other day and she batted her eyelashes and said,
"I love you Pirate."

Flatbird

Flat Bird: A story about a bird by Salem

"Ewww! I saw a bird, it was a flat bird. He was the flat kind of bird. And his eyeball turned and looked at me. He looked at me with his flat bird eyeball. Ewww! I ran away because he was yucky."

I remember this bird too. I don't remember however the bird being a "flat kind of bird." It was a white female dove sitting in her nest in a low lying tree branch. She was as sweet as she could be. I guess that translates as "yucky" to my daughter. Maybe she's more like me after all, a nature-fearing city girl.

Airplane!

We were traveling this past weekend to Ohio via giant airplane. I made sure to prepare Salem weeks in advance for this trip, telling her daily, "We're going on an airplane! It will be fun for us all, but, you need to be a good girl while we're flying. No yelling, screaming, or running down the aisles. Okay?"
"Okay mom. Deal."

The day came when we could start our adventure and board the plane. She's cool, no yelling, screaming or uncontrollable face-slapping the entire flight! Sweet! Just when the pilot announces our destination approach Salem decides it's time for a little outburst. She jumps up (I had just returned from taking her to the restroom, okay. Her seatbelt wasn't on yet.) Turns around in her chair facing all the passengers behind us and yells,
"POOPY HOLE!!"
Nice.

Yummy!

We were in Cleveland this past weekend celebrating the 30th birthday of a friend of ours. We had a great time catching up with friends we had not seen in a long time while spending some time sight-seeing. I believe what will stick in my mind the most about Ohio is the food. Those rugged blue-collar hard-assed Clevelanders will eat just about anything--providing that it's fried, baked, broiled, smothered or stuffed with fat.



Our last day, I got an opportunity to try something called a "Roman Burger". It's kind of like a sub sandwich, only made with something a little extra. You get your standard sub roll with lettuce, onion, tomato; you know the drill. The sandwich is completed with two skillet fried hamburgers topped with melted easy cheese and fried salami welded together by three tablespoons of mayo. holy shitballs. I still have not been able to eat since that meal. You'll have to experience one for yourself, however, please advise your physician that you intend to do so first.

naked chips

I got out the bag of nacho cheese flavored doritos late last night. I was in a snacky mood. They are actually Salem's reward chips, but she wouldn't notice if I snuck a few. As I poured them into the bowl, I noticed that they looked a little strange. They were not that unnatural biohazard orange color, they were kind of a pale urine yellow. I realized my child had gotten a hold of the bag earlier and proceeded to lick all the powedery MSG cheese off of every chip before placing them discretely back in the bag for an unassuming victim to find.

quirks

All small children have strange little habbits or quirks, I'm completely aware of that and we celebrate these funny character defining qualities. My child, on the other hand, will search far and wide--under beds, in drawers, scan the bathroom floors for any of my used emery boards. The thing is, she likes to chew and suck on them, scraping all the sandy, gritty goodness from them with her teeth. Why lord? Why does she do this?

Tub full of kids

There's no way your nieces and nephews are cuter than mine! No way.

Following Salem's Rules

I was in the kitchen packing Salem’s lunch this morning when I heard her creeping out of her bedroom and entering our bedroom to wake her daddy. I then could hear her shouting angrily.
“What’s wrong Salem?” I asked.
“Hey mom? Why did you put that there?”
“Put what, where?”
“That! That’s a terrible place to put that.”
“Put what?”
I walked upstairs to find her on the floor of our bedroom.
“Mom, why would you put your laundry basket right in front of the door?”
I guess she walked in, tripped over the ‘badly placed’ laundry basket and now she’s pissed.
“I’m sorry babe! I didn’t mean for you to fall over the basket!”
”Okay mom. Just don’t do it again.”

Eye Eye Captain Salem, GEEZE.
And you know the funny part? Chuk continued to sleep face down in the bed during this entire encounter.

Geometry lesson from Professor Salem

Uncle Paul was drawing with Salem one day.
"Uncle Paul, I can draw a circle!"
"Cool! Now what's this?" Paul asked as he drew a square.
"A square!"
"That's right! What's this?"
Paul was thinking he'd be really funny and drew a shape she'd never seen before.
"I don't know. What is that?"
"A parallelogram!"
"oh Yeah! I like all those grams: paralleleograms, Teddy Grahams, all the grams!"

Ariel poops!

Salem turns three today. We had a birthday party for her at Monkey Joe’s this past weekend, she loved it. It was a great idea, we invite kids, they jump around then eat pizza and cake. After that, everyone goes home--no mess! As her present, Chuk and I got her an Ariel Doll from the movie Little Mermaid; it has not left her side since I pried it out of the box to give it to her. (What is with that? Why do toy manufacturers tape, twist-tie and sew toys into the box? It took me 10 minutes to get that stupid Ariel out of the packaging.)

This morning Salem woke up and went straight to the potty like normal. This time she brought Ariel with her and would not get on the potty until Ariel had finished going poopy first.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Salem.”
“Ariel has to go poopy. She ate lots and lots of oatmeal yesterday.”

Happy birthday Salem! I love you.

Pelvic exams: Two for the price of one!

I’ve learned a valuable lesson today: ALWAYS take my friend Anne’s advice.
I had made an appointment to see my Gynecologist this morning. I rushed to get ready as I woke up late. I could not find any nice underwear so I had to dig in the back of my drawer to get a pair that had seen better days. They were all stretched out, the elastic waistband was exposed and there’s a nickel sized hole on the left cheek. I figure so what?! The doc’s not going to see them anyway as they will be folded resting under my neatly folded skirt on the chair next to the exam table during my visit.

On arrival, I was asked to produce a urine sample then return to the waiting room to wait for my doc. I went in, did my business and walked back out into the waiting room. The patients in the waiting area doubled since I went to the bathroom; most of them were pregnant women with their nervous husbands in tow. I had to walk all the way to the end of the room to finally find a seat. As I turned around to plant my butt in the chair, one of the ‘dad’s to be’ was giving me a sideways glance while smirking. Dude! What an ass I thought--right in front of his house-sized chocolate-chugging baby machine. As I began to sit down, I tried to tuck my skirt under the back of my knees when I realized the problem. I had squatted in the potty to produce my urine sample and like an idiot, tucked my skirt into the back of my billowing old panties!

Do I feel like a total moron!? I should have listened to Anne. She told me once after seeing me change in a dressing room, “Ashley! You need to get rid of those raggedy old panties! What if you’re in a car accident one day and your pants fly off. Somebody will see this mess!”

What is it with Pink Spoons?

Our pleasant afternoon started off with some grocery shopping at our neighborhood farmers market. This is the same market that Salem protests our visits as she has called the place “stinky” each time we’ve driven by since she was a year old. It looks cleaner now, smells are improving and is better organized in response to the giant Wal-Mart shopping plaza that was constructed across the street. Fear cleans up well!
We arrived home with our bounty, Salem rushed upstairs to play with her Barbies as I cooked dinner.
“Salem, it’s time to wash hands.”
“No! Just a few more minutes!”
“I hope you didn’t just say ‘no’ to me, that’s not nice.”
This comment was the shot heard around the world. She stumbled down the stairs crying like a cave-child, hitting herself in the face (again) and telling me she doesn’t want to eat.
“I don’t wanna have dinner! I want the pink spoon! You don’t let me have juice! This is not what I want to eat! I’m a mermaid!”
I stood by, speechless. What do I do? I tried to pick her up to console her as she is obviously having some kind of melt-down.
“Put me back in my chair! I want to eat!”
“Okay?” I put her back down confused.
“Would you like something else to drink?”
“Yeh-ya! Milk!”
As I opened the fridge a bottle of hot sauce jumped out, fell on the floor and broke splattering red goo all over the walls, the inside of the fridge, my pants, oven, floor and I felt a drop on my eyelid. Salem’s now sobbing about a pink spoon, I’m cleaning up the mess, my phone is ringing and I still have to make dinner for Chuk and I before I work on freelance. Do I have a Jacuzzi tub to relax in later? No--I’ve got a bottle of wine from the market!

Prom as I see it in 2021

Salem and Brody lookin' sharp!

Peanut Gallery

Alison? You out there? Stephie C.--wtf?
My commenting bitches ain't been commenting as of late. What gives?

Scared mom

Okay. I have an issue, rather Salem has the issue. She's about to turn three and when she gets irritated, confused or angry she starts slapping at her face with both hands. Is this normal 3 yr old behavior?

Scared mom,
Atlanta, GA

Uncle's block shirt

We had a nice relaxing weekend, reminding me that I would like to continue this trend with weekends to come. Normally we rush around like crazy people making Monday morning hit like a ton of bricks.

Last night, our good friend Paul came over for dinner. It was sort of a bad idea since our stove is broken and pasta with meatballs was on the menu. (why do I do this to myself?) At least I’m pretty resourceful and have learned to use small kitchen appliances at half the production speed to get the job done. I make a mean shrimp and rice dish using the microwave, electric skillet and the toaster oven. Screw the stove top and oven range, I’ve got a lighter and a Bunsen burner!

While I was slaving over the preparation of our meal that should have taken just a half hour, Paul, Chuk and Salem were playing with blocks. She would scream, run in a circle around Paul, kick daddy’s block tower over and shove the blocks she picked up from the tower down the back of Paul’s shirt. This cycle would repeat itself indefinitely if I had not stepped in.
“What are you guys doing?”
“We’re playing ‘Block Shirt Larry’ Mom.”
“Block Shirt Larry?”
“Yeah! It’s when I pick up the blocks and fill up uncle Larry’s shirt with ‘em.”
“Uncle Larry? That’s Paul Salem, not Larry.”
“I know. But I like that name.”
Now that I think about it, earlier that day, she had called her grandmother ‘Uncle Gram’. I wonder what this uncle thing is all about.

Band-Aids don't bother us!

We were at the park yesterday, enjoying some good mommy-daughter time. My flip flop kept filling up with cedar chips and I had to constantly remove them. I hate that. I was picking out my 50th cedar chip when I noticed Salem playing with something and talking to herself. As I got a closer look, I noticed that it was an old used Band-Aid!
“Put that down! That’s nasty and dirty!”
“Why? It has Arial on it. I could use it!”
“NO! We never touch old yucky band-aids that we find on the ground. They are GROSS. They used to be on someone else’s bloody wound!”
“oh, okay mommy.”

We left the park and set a course for home to wash Salem’s tainted hands. As we got home I asked her to march upstairs so that I could wash her in the kitchen sink.
“Sure mom, this is a classy place. We’re not going to let any band-aids bother us!”
And you know? I thought for a moment, “Gee Salem, that’s true! You may look like a tiny clone of your father but you are your mother’s daughter after all.”
‘Classy place.’ That just kills me.

Poppin' my iphone picture cherry

The iphone is out and one of my friends is way cooler than me, she's got one. But, I can say that I now have my very own photo of Salem taken with the new gadget. That's the closest I'm going to get to an iphone for at least 2 years. *sigh*





Can't you just see the coolness oozing from this photo? Ahhhhh. (yep, i'm a dork. Get used to it.)

Mermaidia, Nazis and The Smyrna Pool

Salem is obsessed with mermaids due to the really badly scripted hyper computer-generated Barbie movie made direct to DVD, Barbie Mermaidia. Thanks Mattel! Now we have to buy both Barbies and mermaid Barbies, gee...was marketing involved in that production?!

Today we went swimming at the Smyrna municipal pool otherwise known as "The Pool of the Third Reich" as they force you to prove that your kid does not need swim diapers, you will not use unqualified flotation devices, cover your swim diapers with a special third barrier (for sale for $7.50!), and lastly--THEY CHECK YOUR COOLER FOR BOOZE!! They actually opened my cooler and took out all my stuff to see what I had. For the love of Petey Wheatstraw! Good thing I came clean ahead of time and asked if it were okay that I brought beer. I prolly would be sitting in The Smyrna County pokey right now if I had not.

After we received the shake-down from the Smyrna county pool employees, my friends, The Amyjohns and the Sylvesters were all able to jump in the pool and cool off. Getting back to mermaids... Salem has been pretending to be a mermaid from the aforementioned Barbie movie every time her feet touch any sort of moisture. Brody, the oldest of the Sylvester boys (he's 4) was really enjoying a good swim. Salem was sitting on the edge of the pool insisting that she was a mermaid and wouldn't jump in the water because of her "fins". Amy I were coaxing her in the water.
"Hey Salem, jump in!"
"No! I'm a mermaid! Mermaids are not getting their fins wet right now!"
Brody swims over to me, winks, pulls himself up next to her on the side of the pool.
"Hey!" Brody yells with a smile. "I'm a merMAN! and I'll jump in whenever I want!"
End of dispute. Apparently mermen have balls stuffed inside those fishtails.





I would love it if someone noticed that this DVD is the German Barbie Mermaidia to go along with the Smyrna Pool. I kill myself!