Steamin' joe

Little Mommy(9), when she was just barely 8- singing the SUV Song from VeggieTales:
"Oh, you and me- in our sport utility vehicles.
Cruisin' to Dunkin' Donuts- for a BAG of steamin' joe."
It's the best visual ever. I can just see it sloshing around in a plastic takeout bag.


Last Friday, I finally had a morning cup of coffee. It was so amazing I had to blog about it.


No. I guess that won't do. Of course I didn't have a cup of coffee. I don't drink coffee. It's bad for you, it makes your breath stink, and I have made a covenant not to drink it. I guess I should go back a ways and explain.

I have this friend- actually a friend of a friend, Ti- who refers to taking a shower when she wakes up as "her morning cup of coffee." Ti says she absolutely cannot function without her "morning cup of coffee". I can see her point really. I hate missing my morning shower. For the last couple of years though, I have remembered Ti adamantly telling me about how much her "morning cup of coffee " centers her. Without it she just can't face the day. And as I have remembered this conversation, I have thought that her morning shower must be a lot different from mine.

We have rules in our house. I have mentioned some of them before. The rule that applies here is:

DO NOT COME INTO THE BATHROOM WHEN MOMMY IS IN THE SHOWER UNLESS IT IS AN EMERGENCY!!!!

The following constitute an energency:

1. Someone is bleeding.
2. Someone is choking or turning blue.
3. Someone has swallowed something poisonous.
4. The house is on fire.

(My kids realize that there are, of course, obvious exceptions to this rule. Things such as,

• "Can I go play with Jace?"
• "I got yogurt on my shirt."
• "I need you to velcro the back of my Batman suit."
• "Have you seen my shoe?" -Always the shoes...
• "Here's your cell phone, mommy. Someone maked you a phone call."
• "[Bubba(6)] PUT IN STAR WARS WHEN YOU SAID I COULD WATCH 12 Dancing Princesses WHEN MY CHORES WERE DONE!!!!!!!!!"
• "______ hit me!!!")

Any time these exceptions come up, I refer the child to the rules. "Are you bleeding? Is anyone choking? Is the house on fire? Has [Monster Truck(2)] gotten out into the street?.... Then GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM while I am TAKING A SHOWER!!!!!"

So, although I do love my morning shower, I do not generally find it that Nirvana everyone in the Northwest claims to experience whilst chugging stewed, burned beans. I am usually far more tense, irritated, and stressed when I get out of the shower than when I rolled out of the nice warm covers that morning. That is, until last Friday.

I showered. It was hot. It was steamy. It was good to the last drop. NO ONE came in. I could scarcely believe it. I realized that I was done and I had not yet been interrupted- so I admit it. I stayed in there a little longer. I savored every second. And Ti was right. I was centered. I was warm. I was both relaxed and invigorated. I didn't have to get tanked up on caffeine and carcinogens, and I was ready to face my day.

And guess what? My breath didn't even stink.

Numbers

Mr. Yuke(4): And then, after 500 million, comes 16!!!

Here's another number that's a big deal in our house:
800.222.1222

That's the number for poison control. We have it on speed dial on my cell phone but sometimes, (more often than not, actually) a dead battery requires the manual dialing of it on the home phone.

We call that number a lot these days. It seems that Monster Truck(2) loves detergents. Anything with any sort of cleanser in it. In the last week and a half, he has drunk Little Mommy's(9) facial toner and eaten ten of the little center soap pellets of the electrasol power tabs for the dishwasher. We are not careless about dangerous things, but he has learned to open the child safety locks on the cupboards, the baby gate, and the front door. Really, the minivan is the final frontier and when that happens- well.... Be afraid. Be very afraid. Anyway, you would think that after the say, third or fourth dish detergent ball he would think to himself, Ewww. This is not so delicious. I think I'll go ransack the cereal cupboard once again. Yes, that would be much more yummy. But no. He just keeps eating them, presumably thinking that they'll start tasting better real soon. Maybe it's an aquired taste, like strained peas. And swingset chains. So we've called Poison Control so many times for that boy that the last couple times I have started to worry that CPS must have started building a case against us. He has gotten into more poisonous things than all his other siblings combined. There are only so many up high places we have in the house and right now they are reserved for things like percocet and transmission fluid. Fortunately, he was fine. The detergents didn't make him sick. We did not have to take him to the hospital, and we still had enough of them left to do the dishes. I guess no harm, no foul. He has gotten off extremely lucky, come to think of it. He has never had to go to the hospital. Not with the toothpaste (yes, it is extremely poisonous- we were at the hospital for 15 hours with the The Pinkiest for that), not with the Balmex, and not with the rubbing alcohol. That's why he's Monster Truck. Indestructable. Thank goodness.