Fudgy

Since the holidays are almost over, I have a Christmas memory I'd like to share...

When we moved into our current home, Salem was around 18 months old. We were still trying to sell our other home and times were tough to say the least. We had very little furniture in the house and Christmas decor was at an all time minimum. Someone brought us over a hefty container of homemade fudge (my favorite!) with layers and layers of the good stuff tucked between sheets of parchment.

Our water heater broke one morning late in December and water was everywhere. It was cold, wet and an absolute mess; not to mention trying to clean up said mess with an 18 month old toddling around in 2 inches of cold water was hell on earth. I put her upstairs with some toys, set up the stair gate and began the process of cleaning up. After a while, I didn't hear her babbling, it was eerie quiet. I dashed upstairs to find her toys in a big pile and no child to be found. I called for her while franticly searching the house up and down, no dice. The second time I checked her room, I noticed movement in the corner behind her bed. As I approached, I saw my child hunched over the fudge container nibbling away at the gooey goodness. She didn't even respond when I called her name. So, I raised my voice:

Me: "Salem! What are you doing?!"
She spun around, eyes the size of saucers while sporting a brown chocolate beard and moustache. She beamed as she lifted her arms to show me that she was double fisting golf ball sized nuggets of fudge.

"Fudgy!!" she squealed, proud of herself. I looked into the container to find that there were only a few pieces left. She had eaten nearly a pound of fudge!

For months she repeated "Fudgy" in tandem with drooling whenever she spied chocolate of any kind.

We Don't Say That!

We have a few simple rules for the kid to follow, nothing too drastic or hard to comply with. Listed here are a few rules:

No interrupting when mommy and daddy are talking

Pick up the toys when you're finished playing with them

Ask to be excused from the table

Bedtime is bedtime. No exceptions.

We are not to say certain off-color words and or phrases.


I can't stand to hear a small child call their derriere a ‘butt’ so we have her call this particular body part a ‘bum’. That’s what I was taught to say growing up and that’s the rules. (I’m the boss, applesauce!) So whenever anyone says this word, she knows it’s not a good word to say and she will come right out and notify. For example:
Me: “Hey Chuk, did you ever find that tube of Boudreaux's butt paste?” Suddenly, out of nowhere a small child’s’ voice is heard ringing out in the distance…”Mom! We DON'T SAY BUTT!”

How on earth did she hear that and where the heck is she anyway?

Chuk: “My friend, so-in-so wanted to go to the Thai restaurant, but I wanted to go to the….” Very quickly, from behind the couch, a shout rang out from a little girl, “WE DON’T SAY BUTT!”

It’s almost like ‘butt’ is a word that she can hear and distinguish from anywhere, no matter what activity she is doing; eating, sleeping, playing or watching TV. The kid will hear that word under any circumstance. It’s like a dog whistle for her or something.

Beware, if you ever say any form of the word ‘butt’ or ‘but’, you’re going to get the wrath of the Sally Jones.

Dining, and the Aforementioned Fish Head

Yeah yeah, I take pictures of my food, but only when its interesting and/or well presented. Here are some shots from our restaurant excursions over the holiday, starting with the Aformentioned Fish Head.

-CHUK

Crimmus Cat

We had a very nice Christmas this year. We drove down to Florida to pick up the child and stayed the weekend. Dad and Barb threw a very cool Christmas party, fun was had by all. We got in the car to drive back up to the ATL on Christmas Eve, it was a blur.

Yesterday, we opened our presents at my in-laws and enjoyed much food, atmosphere and libation. As usual, I participated in the festivities a little too much and was overstuffed and uncomfortable during our drive back to the house. Since our week of childless living, some of my bad habits started to resurface. For instance, the occasional swear word seeps out of my lips or I say something that I’m thinking without knowing I’ve said it. (I’ve always called that “uncontrollable diarrhea of the mouth” syndrome) It’s one of my quirks.

Last night, on the ride back to our house I grumbled, “Man, I’m so full I think I’m going to puke!” Of course Salem turned right around and said, “Mommy! You’re going to puke?!” She then proceeded with a dramatization of a series of gags in between the repetition of the word “puke”. This carried on for a few moments when I stepped in to say, “Hey! That’s enough! Mommy should have never said that, it was not nice.” Chuk interjected with a quick “Yeah! We don’t say ‘puke’, we say ‘vomit’!”

With that she replied, “Oh yeah! Like Razzy? Hey! I’m the cat…BLAHHHHH, BLAHHHH!”

As we pulled into the driveway, it was our first night back at home as a family in over a week. This moment will be forever noted with the quote, “I’m the cat! BLAHHHHHHH!”

Roly Poly Fish Heads

I know I threatened to post what Chuk and I have been doing during this season of childless adult living. Here’s a small sample:

> Went out for sushi and caught a bluegrass show (The dappled Grays)
> Enjoyed an evening of games and card playing
> Went out for a romantic dinner seated next to a beautiful fire at the 5 Seasons Brewery > Watched a few episodes of one of our favorite shows, Metalocalypse
> Dined with some friends at Penang, a Malaysian restaurant where we indulged in tiny baby squids, pig intestines, mini spare-ribs and Chuk ate a whole fish head. You read that right. A whole fish head, including the eyeballs. I’m surprised he hasn’t posted the photos he took of our fare. I think the most noted quote from that dining experience is, “Man! These pig intestines taste like a warehouse.”

And we have 3 more nights of reckless abandon!

Ps: Our daughter is doing quite well, as I’ve called her many times. 4 out of 5 calls, she doesn’t even care to speak with me. I’m sure it’s going to be difficult for her to get back into her old routine which WILL NOT include: home baked cookies with ice cream before dinner, endless shopping sprees, the complete and undivided attention from all around her and lastly, watching movies every night before bed. Man, sucks to be her!

Mama Gots No Kid

Salem and I jetted down to FL yesterday so that she could stay all week with her big pop and mamae. Chuk and I are nervous about leaving her with said folks, not because they will not be able to handle it, just because we'll miss her terribly. With that said, I'll not be having much material to post in the coming week :(

However! I just might share some stories of the mad-cap adventures of the Chuk and Ashley childless-duo. I guess there's a brightside here, Chuk and I will be able to go out and be adults for a week and celebrate not having to watch Dora or Pete's Dragon over and over. Let the debauchery ensue!

Christmas Decorations

Alison was over for dinner last night and was helping me with getting Salem settled down to eat. While she and I waited for Chuk to come home and join us, we mixed some festive cocktails and sat down with Salem at the dinner table while she ate her meal. Salem was distracted as usual and I had a difficult time getting her to eat, this routine is pretty much status quo—the kid just does not eat.

While Salem was “eating” Alison and I chatted it up with our usual banter; what’s happening at work, how her boyfriend is and whatever gossip we had in common. Somewhere along the line, Salem grew upset that she was not the center of attention and kept interrupting. We gently reminded her that it’s not polite to interrupt. She then held up her hand, palm toward my face and yelled: “Girls, girls! Be quiet! QUIET! I’ve got something to show you.” She reached below the table and quickly fired her hand into the air while screaming “TA DA!”

We looked at the object in her hand not quite knowing what it could be. Alison started laughing as I plucked it out of Salem’s paw. It was a disembodied head of a stork clutching baby Dumbo in its beak (one of our Christmas ornaments from the tree.) It used to be cute before the stork’s head was ripped off its body. Salem squealed, “It’s my Jumbo!”

I guess I need to start looking around the house for mutilated and repurposed Christmas decorations.

Bleed!?

Salem is currently kind of obsessed with "bleed" (her word for blood). If you get an injury, like a scraped knee or a shaving cut, she's constantly asking you about it and wanting to examine it to make sure you're okay.
However, this morning she broke out into one of the weirdest things she's ever said... she told me "If you cut your leg, the bleed could go into a taco, and you could eat your bleed". !?!
I immediately broke out into "Whoa whoa whoa... whaaat did you just say!?"

Just so you understand, we do not expose Salem to violent movies or shows, and I have great confidence in her school (Cross and Crown) that no exposure to that sort of thing takes place.

I was kind of freaked out by the statement, and I immediately began quizzing her on why she would say that. The best I could determine is that SALSA, which we put on tacos, looks like blood.
Weird. Very weird.

-CHUK

Old Enough

We were at the Kroger again today. I know you must be thinking that we are there all the time. Well, you right, I AM. Anyway, we were there, again cramming our bounty into the back of the car and having a splendid time. I then started to strap senioreta-sassy-pants reluctantly into her car seat.
"Salem! please cooperate with me! You're old enough to start putting your own arms into the straps and help mommy."

her: "Well, actually ('actually' is her new buzz word) I think she might be old enough!"

I quickly turned toward the direction she was referring to find an ancient woman bent over her walker shuffling slowly to her car.

Yep, kid! She probably is old enough. In fact, she may be the single oldest person I have ever seen.

Shoppin' Ain't Cool

We were in a store yesterday Christmas shopping. I think that's probably one of my least favorite things to do; that and going to my annual OBGYN appointment. It's just so crowded and crazy during the holidays, especially with a three year old in tow asking if she can have everything we see. After spying an ugly fire-poker set decorated with a fleur de lis on top, she claimed she wanted it. She wanted the "Flower Club" for her Arial doll. Next thing I know she'll want a cute set of vinegar and water douching bottles.

She was nagging and whining while I was drudging through the store. I turned to her, and using the sarcasm reserved for such events I said, "Salem! You know what would be really super cool?" she looked up at me, knowing what I was going to say yet she humored me with a flat "what mom?"
“If you’d stop whining! That would really super awesome!” She frowned, then I saw her eyes light up, her brow lifted and she cocked her head to one side and shot back. “You know what would be cool mom?” < Insert dramatic pause here > “It would be cool if you were nice to me!”

Car Pool Santa

her: "Mom?"
me: "yes?"
her: "Can Santa pick me up from school tomorrow?"
me: "No. He's really busy and he lives in the North Pole."

Why do we lie to our children about this guy? I keep having to spin more tales to keep up with the initial lie that this guy is real. It's like that song from that commercial when I was a kid, "You tell one lie, it leads to another..." Exhausting.

'Tis the Season for Packing Materials

A huge part of the kid’s playtime is based on dressing up. She has an arsenal of princess dresses, crowns, plastic mini high-heels, long beaded necklaces, big fake diamond rings and faux metallic clip-on earrings; all of which are worthy of being in the costume wardrobe for the Saturday Night Live sketch “Cwoffee Tawk”. I feel vaclempt just looking at her dressed up in that mess. She LOVES it.

Yesterday I was cleaning my house, you know, bent over with a toothbrush and rubber gloves scrubbing away at the 50 year old tile in my bathroom. I obsess--it’s a character flaw. I could hear her in her room talking to herself, getting “ready” for some imaginary event. Her voice trailed out of her room and into the hall outside the bathroom.

Her: “Mommy? Do I look all dressed up?”
I didn’t feel the need to wrench my neck outside of the bathtub to check her princess outfit that she always wears during playtime. I answered her without hesitation.
Me: “Yes! I’m sure you’re a beautiful Princess and Prince Daddy would be honored to take you to the ball….”
Her: “No mom, look!”

She had stripped down to her underwear and had put her bathrobe on. She was gripping a strip of bubble wrap and pulling it tightly over her face and around the back of her head.

“See mom! I’m a DENTIST!!”

Funny. She’s yet to see a dentist. I blame amazon.com. They put bubble wrap in everything they send, regardless if it’s needed or not. Since it’s the holiday season, we’ve begun receiving our annual amazon.com shipments, this year it looks like we’ll be seeing more of “The DENTIST.”