These two things should not be together

I just found this tiny pair of Dora underwear snuggling with my dish towel on the counter. The sad thing is, I kind of think I may have put them there without thinking when dealing with some tragedy or another. I honestly don't know.  I am tossing them both in the wash and pretending I'm not losing my mind.

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important announcement

I'm such an awesome mom

Good moms get all their kids' school supplies weeks before school starts so that they can send everything in on the first day.

Great moms drive to Walgreens at 9pm the night before the first day of school when they realize that they bought folders WITH prongs instead of folders WITHOUT prongs, so that they can send the right school supplies on the first day.

At least, that's how I see it.

PS. I bought myself some Zotz while I was there, scrounging to find the last yellow folder, so I'm all good.

This cord annoys me. It keeps showing up on the table, on the floor, and so on. I keep putting it away and then it creeps out again. (OK, it has only happened twice but I am calling that a pattern.)

The weird thing is that I don't even know what it is for. Some kind of audio-visual cable. Totally unused by us.

Poltergeist!

ANTagonists

A few months ago, I found the first ant, crawling on the dashboard of my car. It was black and fairly innocent looking. I smashed it and kept driving.

Within days I was playing “Whack an Ant” at every stoplight. I noticed that the creatures congregated on my dash and on the console between the two front seats. Later, I started finding them on the inside of the driver’s side door. Lots of ants, everywhere. They were crawling on my legs as I drove. It was creepy.

I can’t say that I’ve never had ants in my car before. The prior summer, we had a million almost microscopic ants in the backseat, dining on crumbs of various “eat-in-the-car” meals and snacks. I ended those bad boys with a few ant homes and a particularly cold winter (like how I took credit for the weather there?). These ants were different. They didn’t care about the back seat, or the food, or anything like that. And that made these ants very un-antlike.

I got some ant spray and coated the dash, console, seats, and floor. I left it overnight and was rewarded with lots of dead ants on the floor. “Victory!” I thought. Except it wasn’t a victory at all. As soon as I turned the car on and started driving, more of the little buggers showed up. It was crazy!

My epiphany occurred when I was driving my daughter back from the hair salon. During our brief trip, more and more ants were showing up on the driver’s side door. And on the console. And on the passenger’s side seat. And in my lap. They were everywhere.

Then, as I was stopped at a light, smacking little black bodies on my legs, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something a little shiny, reflecting the light, flying through the air. What?

I looked more closely. It happened again. Something flew out of the air conditioner vent. This time, I was able to see where it landed on the console. It was an ant! It scurried away, and the awful realization hit me (as did another ant): they were in the air conditioner!

That explained the odd placement of the ants. They were flying out of the vents and landing on surfaces in line with those vents. So if I didn’t have them aimed right at me, they would land on the doors and console. If it was hot and I was aiming everything at my face, they were flying about as far as my lap and scurrying all over my legs. It was like a horror movie!

I immediately turned off the air and had a smack-fest, killing every crawling thing in sight. Nothing new showed up, which taught me that the ants were actually not willingly leaving the air conditioner; they were blown out against their will. I did not feel sorry for them.

I rolled down the windows for the drive home. I only saw an occasional ant that way, which reduced the gross-out factor considerably and made me a much better driver (it’s hard to drive and smack tiny creatures at the same time). But even those few miles of safety and relative buglessness were interrupted as a giant wasp flew in through my open window. People drive with their windows down every day and I guarantee none of them have stinging bugs randomly flying in. This is the kind of crap that can only happen to me. 

I didn’t see the wasp at first, but my four-year-old daughter sure did. She launched into hysterics, and the bomber-sized bug swooped at my head. I ducked abruptly, which triggered a colossal muscle spasm in my upper abdomen. I shooed the wasp out and rolled the windows up to pacify The Girl, who had lost her mind in the back seat. We drove home in sweaty silence, with me painfully bent over, waiting for the spasm to loosen.

By the end of the thankfully short drive home, I had a plan. I unloaded The Girl and armed myself with ant spray. I squirted the seats, console, and inside the air vents with eco-friendly bug spray. Then I turned on the car, flipped on the A/C and waited. As expected, tons of ants came flying out, but none of them were dead. They landed on the soaked seats and kept walking. They only died when I actually hit them with a stream of spray. I stood and squirted for a long time. When the ants seemed to stop flying, I turned the car off and left the windows open so it could air out.

Later, I went back out to check. I turned on the A/C and although there were some ant corpses lying about, many more came flying out. I repeated the spraying scenario, and wet everything enough that I needed to sit on a towel to drive later in the day. And still, as soon as I turned on the air, I was pelted with flying ants. Ridiculous.

Clearly my ant spray wasn’t powerful enough to get the job done, right? I asked Husband to pick up something different on the way home. Screw than eco-friendly crap. I needed toxins. That night I soaked every ant ridden surface in my car with something full of carcinogens. And in the morning, I had a lot of dead ants on the floor. Excellent!

Except they were still in the A/C. It was like I had an endless stream of ants in there. I considered various other options, like setting the car on fire. Then I mentioned my nightmare on facebook, and a friend told me she’d had a similar problem with what sounded like the same kind of ants. She set off a bug bomb (one of those room fogger thingos) in her car and it totally worked.

What did I have to lose? I bought a fogger and  removed toys and whatnot from the car so that they wouldn’t get covered with poison. This took a lot longer than you might have thought. I set that bad boy off and returned to my house to wait (and, you know, do stuff). After the required number of hours, I went outside to remove the fogger and air the car out. There were approximately eleventy million ants on the floor of my car, as well one roach (EW). All dead. I cleaned up that whole situation and then cautiously turned on the air, leaping backward to avoid being pelted.

Nothing.

NOTHING!

So for the next month or more, my car had that weird flowery bug spray smell in it. As much as I hate pesticides, no smell has ever been as sweet. Why? Because it was the smell of victory!

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A gazillion grains of sand

The Girl is starting voluntary pre-K in a few weeks, which means it’s time to get back in the swing of the school year. This will be the sixth (and last) year that I will have a child in this particular school. It’s a wonderful school environment, and I wish that it had an elementary school attached because I’d be all for her going there too (except for the part where I couldn’t afford it, HA!). My only minor complaint is that the school has a white-sand-filled playground, and every school day, my daughter brings home a good part of it in her shoes. And because she hates sandy shoes, she most often removes them in my car, giving it that charming “been to the beach” look.

Rubberecycle is a company that makes rubber mulch for just this purpose. This company makes a unique rubber granule product manufactured from 100% scrap tires. This mulch is excellent for use in playgrounds because it reduces impact from falls, plus it keeps kids cleaner since it replaces sand and dirt found on many playgrounds. Rubber mulch is long lasting and can be purchased in a variety of colors (which little kids might like). Rubberecycle’s website also indicates that the mulch is nontoxic, quick drying (important with Florida’s many rainstorms), mold-free (also important, because all that rain encourages mold growth), and it won’t attract insects (if you’ve been to Florida or read this blog, you’ll know why that’s important too).

While I appreciate the mulch’s safety benefits, I would really, really, REALLY enjoy the fact that it would not wind up coming home in The Girl’s shoes, to be spread throughout my car and house. I really love the beach, but only when it’s, you know, at the actual beach!

This post has been brought to you Rubberecycle. 

Back scratch gone weird

Tonight I was scratching my almost-five-year-old daughter's back before she drifted off to sleep.

Girl: Wow, that feels great!


Me: Oh yeah?


Girl: Your fingernails are sharp. They feel good on my back. They feel like... like... [sings] 867-5309. [Giggles]


Me: You are so weird.


Girl: I know. 

In case you need a refresher:

Something's always missing

We're on the hunt for my daughter's missing Dora bag. The bag isn't super important, but the Leapster and all the games we own are. She really loves her Leapster and I'm very concerned as to where it may be. It's probably hiding somewhere in our house but honestly, I just don't know where. Frustrating.

Also AWOL were my son's sandals. I was less concerned about these because we really hadn't looked hard for them yet, and they weren't expensive. I honestly thought The Boy just left those in his room or under a car seat or something. But the Leapster was an Issue.

Today, I asked the YMCA staff if I could look in their "lost and found." Honestly, I doubt that we left it there but we take that damn bag everywhere and so, you know, it could have gotten left behind. We live at the Y, so it was a possibility.

Their lost and found was a giant trash can filled to the rim with various, slightly damp items. The can had a peculiar odor that I didn't want to think about. I dug around but didn't make it to the bottom. I really should have taken out item by item and put them on the floor but I didn't want to make the YMCA employee wait that long. He told me that they go through and dispose of everything in the can about EVERY TWO WEEKS. That's a lot of "lost," my friends.

While rummaging, my son, who was nearby, caught sight of something. "HEY! That's my sandal!" At first I didn't believe him, but after putting it on and adjusting it, we were sure. The second one was nearby in the can, thankfully. He must have left them in the shoe cubby when he moved from gymnastics to basketball (they are back-to-back practices this summer).

If your kid is missing a shirt/lunchbox/backpack/swimsuit/thermos/shoe (but not a Leapster), I suggest you contact the Bob Sierra YMCA and check out their lost and found can. I suspect that, even if you have never been there, the "lost things" gnomes may have spirited your stuff away and dumped it in that can. It's the only explanation, really.



(We asked the Y employee to set aside the Dora bag if anyone finds it while sorting the lost items. I'm feeling guilty, though, and may put on some rubber gloves and really search it the next time we're out there. I feel like I'm looking for a retainer in the cafeteria garbage can. Sigh.)

I love summer!

I've have spent this summer in the water. Swimming at the YMCA. Swimming at the beach. Swimming in my parents' above ground pool (and hauling the above ground pool covers up over it to keep the leaves out when we are done). Swimming, swimming, swimming.

I love it.

If I had my own pool, I think there would be very few days in which I didn't at least hang out in the pool a little bit. My hair would be brittle and snapping off. My fingers would be permanently shriveled. There'd be no skin on my exposed body unfreckled (oh, wait, that's already happened). But hey, what's not to love about a pool?

But alas, I have no pool. So here I sit, unshriveled. Dry as a bone. BUT WAIT! I do have a bathtub....

This post is brought to you by pcpools.com. 

First world problems...

Today I realized that I've developed a jawbreaker obsession. The problem is that I am now out of jawbreakers. Tragic.

(The red ones are the best.)

Dear Stride Rite:

There is a difference between sending out announcements of your latest deals to customers and annoying the ever-loving crap out of them. I do not need an email every day from you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? TRY IT!

Sincerely,

A mom with a worn-out delete key

PS-Your comfort seam socks do kick ass, though. I'll give you that.

I sucked at parallel parking in drivers ed

Somehow I think this guy aced it.

Watch The World Record For Parallel Parking With Only 26 Centimeters To Spare [VIDEO] | Ryan Seacrest - The official entertainment news site of American Idol host and American Top 40 on air radio personality!

I also suck at using an umbrella.

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The art of umbrella-ing

I need to take lessons in the art of using an umbrella while getting into a car. I'm good up until the moment I must close the umbrella. Then I become a wet mess as I fold it up while sliding in the car. Plus, I have to put my giant, dripping golf umbrella into the car as well. Where do I put it while hurrying to close the door? The passenger side is the only option, so now it looks like someone went surfing over there. I'm 100% sure the inside of my car is significantly wetter simply because I used an umbrella.

My hair still looks good though. Kinda.

Need to label your kids' back-to-school stuff? Shop at labelitorloseit.com and use the code "tiger" to get 10% off your order! 


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What were you looking for?

One of the great things about blogging on Blogger.com (and probably every blog site but whatever) is that you can find out all sorts of fun statistics about who visits your blog and how they got there. Every now and then I check out what search phrases people use to find my blog. The ways people wind up here are just amazing. Here is a look at 10 11 of them, including links to the entries that I think caused these poor people to land on my blog instead of wherever they were actually trying to go:

1. 100% rain predictions ever wrong?

What does this mean and why did they search for it? Bizarre.

Predictions vs. Reality: Work-Related Travel

2. the first time i moved

This one really stumps me, particularly because of the use of the word “I.” Why on Earth would anyone use google to search for personal information? This makes absolutely no sense. I don’t know what he or she was actually looking for but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my blog.

I have no idea what links these words to this blog. Do you?

3. "i hate shoes"

OK. Again with the “I.” I don’t understand you people.

Because Shoes Should Not Equal Torture Devices

4. piles+little+girls+clothes

What? I really like the + signs in this one though. It feels so nonsensically math-y.

No clue.

5. a spider that when you hit it, it deflates

I know I talk too much about spiders in this blog. But deflating spiders… that’s just a whole new thing. I probably need to research this. Yesterday.

Spiders vs. SPIDERS, etc.

6. constant messy hair

If you are looking up “constant messy hair,” does that mean you have it and want to get rid of it, or you want it? I’m confused. Also, shouldn’t it actually be “constantly?”

The Beauty of Intentionally Messy Hair

7. dont want to cut pet door in cat room

OK, well, don’t then. Nobody’s making you put in a pet door. Sheesh.

Buying a Pet Door for a Fat Cat

8. funniest thing about the rain

Can rain be funny? This is not the case where I live. Maybe I need to google “funny rain” and see if I can find out where I need to move to in order to experience this (but that might lead me back here, right?). Because wet rain is a real drag.

No idea...maybe because of the "rain" in the title?

9. how to tell if a person is a therian

I never heard this word before it showed up in my search terms. Dictionary.com says that therian means, “(in some classification systems) belonging or pertaining to the group Theria, comprising the marsupial and placental mammals and their extinct ancestors.” I’m not sure that this is what the “searcher” was referring to. Apparently it also means, according to Wikipedia, “a member of the contemporary subculture of therianthropy, which is based on a spiritual and/or psychological identification with animals… Therianthropy refers to the metamorphosis of humans into other animals... via shape shifting."  This one sounds much cooler. No matter which definition you are looking for, you aren't finding therians in my blog. So sorry. [Don't you feel educated now?]

I'm pretty sure this was just some kind of wacky spelling mix up. 

10. it's a pillow it's a pet mp3

I feel sorry for you if you are looking for this song on mp3. You need a life. Kudos on using the right form of "it's," though.

Your Pillow Pet Will Not Successfully Serve as a Barf Bag (<--One of my earliest and most favorite entries.)

11. i am dreaming of a spider and wake up thinking it is there?

Again with the first person pronoun! What’s wrong with you people? GOOGLE DOES NOT HOLD THE ANSWERS TO WHAT’S GOING ON INSIDE YOUR HEAD! 

Some random spider entry. Maybe this one. 

I  have SO MANY more of these crazy search terms. I'll share more of them later. But I think the important thing to take away from this is that spiders play wayyyyyy too big a part of this blog. I must rectify this. Or not, because a lot of people are finding this blog by accident while looking for some legitimate spider information. That's good for me, but maybe bad for them. Good thing I don't care about them. Spiders. Spiders. Spiders. Spiders. SPIDERS! 

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Oops!

Well, it probably won't mean seven years of bad luck but it does mean several days of me cutting my feet on microscopic pieces of glass.

Baseball math

A professional baseball game for a big baseball fan = Heaven

A professional baseball game for someone who doesn't care about baseball = Purgatory

A professional baseball game for someone who has to also care for a four-year-old non-baseball-loving child at that baseball game = Hell

(It wasn't really that bad, but I sure made a lot of trips up and down the stairs for bathroom trips, lunch, and ketchup for her pizza. That's right. FOR HER PIZZA.)

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Why make it if it's going to get unmade in 12 hours?

Recently, we spent a few days at a hotel on the beach. My kids each climbed into a tightly made twin bed on the first night.

Girl: I need a blanket.

Me: No you don't, there's one on the bed.

Girl: Where? I don't see a blanket.

Me: You just pull down the sheets, under the pillow.

Girl: Really? Wow!

Then The Boy came in.

Boy: I need a blanket.

Girl: LOOK! It's under the pillow! Fold it down!

I started laughing uncontrollably as it became clear that my children have apparently encountered far too few made beds in their lifetimes. We must be horrible parents. Or maybe just untidy ones.






<----My current favorite CD!

If you need to get an incurable disease, I recommend that you choose one that doesn’t involve your excretory or reproductive organs.

I’m naked from the waist down in front of strangers WAY too often these days. Can you conduct a reasonable and pleasant conversation while someone you just met has her fingers all up in your business? I can. I’m freaking GIFTED.

At this point, I’m wearing my nice underwear ALL OF THE TIME because I never know when some doctor, nurse, or therapist is going to ask me to drop trow. Even the Acupuncturist has to get a little personal. At this point, if some random person on the street stopped me and told me to undress from the waist down and put a gown on so it opens in the back, I’d probably do it. And then I’d wonder why people were honking.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Start here!

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