Weapons of mass distraction

I know I'm not alone in this, because I have heard a number of my female friends relate similar stories about their husbands/boyfriends. But, what is it about men, deadlines, and tangential work?

Let's say you are trying to get the house straightened up and ready for a big party. Do you: a) shove all the junk accumulated on your coffee table in a drawer or a room where you can close the door; b) take out the plates you need to serve the food and get them ready to put out; c) set up chairs/tables/decorations; d) scrub the bathtub with Ajax; or e) alphabetize your CD collection? Most women I know will opt for a, b, or c. Men? E. (True story: before a party, Mr. MOM was busy scrubbing the bathtub. Me: "Ummm...I don't think that anyone is planning on taking a bath during the party. At least, I hope not." Him: "I don't want anyone to look in the bathtub and see that is dirty." Me: "If someone is looking in our bathtub at a party, it's their own damn problem! Now come help me straighten up the living room, where we'll actually be spending most of our time.")

The corollary: when you are trying to get something accomplished by a certain time, something else will come up that is in his mind much more important. Case in point, last night. There were a number of things we had to do - we had to take out the garbage, pack for a weekend trip, clear a path from the front door to the cat food so our cat sitter won't sustain a serious injury when she comes to feed our cats. We have a new TV and AV system that is partially assembled, but we needed to finish putting together the stand, which has approximately 12,415 individual parts. So, from the time we got home, we worked on the stand (while DOM was contentedly watching Sagwa, Dragon Tales, and Boohbah on PBS Kids - score another notch in the bad parenting column). After dinner and bath time and bed time for DOM, we worked on the stand some more. We finally finished with the stand around 9:45 p.m. and loaded in the components. But, rather than just hooking up the TiVO and the TV, Mr. MOM decided that he HAD to hook up all the components AND program the audio receiver - a chore that took him well past 11:00 p.m. Packing for the trip? He took out his clothes for the trip this morning so I could pack them (I put together the bag of food for the car trip, packed DOM's clothes, and put together a bag of toys for the trip, as well as packing my own stuff). Taking out the garbage? Done at 11:30 p.m. Good night's sleep? Forget it.

I am woman; hear me snore.

A little too much sharing

So, guess who now has conjunctivitis. It truly is one of the great joys of living with a little petri dish...you never know what communicable disease you will get next. DOM, of course, is fully recovered, while Mr. MOM and I walk around the house with undead-looking bright red eyes. We're glad that she understands the concept of sharing, but just wish she didn't do it so often.

A sad, sad day

Alas, today is the day I have to come out of the closet as a complete and utter eBay failure. After great success selling a bunch of DOM's clothes at a consignment sale, I decided to put the unsold items up for grabs on eBay. The result? Nary a bid. I have failed as a seller on eBay.

Undeterred, I have listed three more outfits. Hope springs eternal.

S.U.C.K.E.R.

Mistake #1: I decided to take a lunchtime stroll through Barnes & Noble to see if they had the Grover book in stock that I've been looking for. (For those of you parents, it's called "The Monster at the End of this Book," and it is supremely hysterical...to me. DOM is only moderately amused at this point in time. I think I haven't been reading it correctly.)

Mistake #2: I decided to peruse the recent non-fiction table because...well, because it was there. That's what I do in a bookstore - I browse.

And what should my tired, confused, mommy-role questioning self see, but a book called "The 7 Stages of Motherhood," by Ann Pleshette Murphy (any relation to Suzanne Pleshette? I loved the Bob Newhart Show. And she was also in the supremely funny movie "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium.") A quick browse to make sure it isn't some wacko evangelical treatise, and in it goes into the purchase pile.

Mr. MOM tells me I have a problem. Whenever something big comes up in life and I'm not sure what to do, I buy a book. Pregnant? Bought a book (OK, I bought about seven books). Trying to lose weight? Bought a book. Wanted to improve my running? Bought a couple of books and obsessively surfed the Web for training schedules. Mr. MOM...well, he only buys mystery and suspense books (which he reads voraciously); I can count on one hand the number of non-fiction books he has bought in the 12 years I have known him.

Somebody has to buy these books, though. There's a whole bunch of struggling self-help writers out there depending on us.

But, back to the book, it seems like Ann Pleshette Murphy has good insights and good advice. I'm looking forward to whatever enlightenment I can achieve.

If that doesn't work out, I can always get a head start on The Monster At the End of This Book.

Exactly

I could have written this. Except the part about the horses.

The Maternal Question (washingtonpost.com)

Cartoon physics #2

Watching Clifford this morning, I noted with great interest that Emily Elizabeth was blowing up a balloon for a party. However, after she finished inflating the balloon and tied a string around it, the balloon floated up in the air as though it were filled with helium.

Perhaps that explains her voice.

The plague returns

I'm back home again with DOM, who has managed to contract the latest ick going around day care. She has managed to combine a series of illnesses in one big, goopy mess. She has conjunctivitis, an ear infection, congestion, and a stubborn fever. I would like to thank the parent in her day care who sent their child in with pink eye so that she or he could share this lovely experience with the entire class. It's not gum, people - you don't have to share with everyone.

The books say that these childhood illnesses are frequent in group care settings until they start to build up immunity to the various germs and viruses. So, uh, when exactly is that going to happen?

Le Mannequin Pis

When you have a fair-sized group of children over for a party, you learn to expect the unexpected. But sometimes something happens that really throws you for a loop. As was the case this past weekend.

One of the little boys in the neighborhood has recently acquired the rather disconcerting habit of considering the whole world his toilet. Apparently he is on a new medication that greatly increases the frequency of urination, so he'll be playing in the yard and suddenly pull out his whatsit for a brief whizz. At the same time, he is in the throes of toddlerhood rebellion.

On Sunday we hosted a farewell party for our neighbors. We gathered in our yard for food and fun (and flies). At one point, I spotted a couple of the boys head into the house. I sent Mr. MOM in to check it out, and this one little boy proudly (or was it defiantly?) told him that he peed in DOM's room. Mr. MOM came out and related the story, but said he didn't see anything. I went in to check it out and found a telltale line of wetness on the rug near the door.

So, besides cleaning it up, what would you do? How do you tell a person you like a lot that her son just used your daughter's room as his own personal latrine? To be fair, my friend was mortified and took swift corrective and punitive action. But there is one kid that I'm not letting roam freely around my house any more.