Archive for the ‘magoo’ Category

this look… is the look my husband gave me when he asked me to marry him, 7 years ago.

and it’s now the look jackson gives me when he wants to eat cake.

funny how that whole DNA thing works.

BOLD FACE DISCLAIMER: this post is not sponsored by any of the brands mentioned in it. i am mentioning the brands of my own will, so that those of you reading this post can actually know what it is that i use in my house in my attempt to rid myself and my family of the grotesque amount of dog hair we encounter on a daily hourly basis.

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this morning started out as any other morning, with me contemplating the current state of my hair. the lack of shape and cute style it normally has as we are cutting back on expenses. the taste of guilt, knowing that my parents will be here next week and i will grovel and ask them to pay for me to get my hair cut by my uber awesome stylist because i can’t just go to super cuts like some people. i have bipolar hair… it’s curly in the back, straight in the front and overall just a hot mess.

the one time i did go to super cuts, was 1 week after i had been married. paul and i had driven from atlanta out to texas, where he was finishing up flight school. it was hotter than the 8th circle of hell and i wanted to cut all the hair off that i had spent the better part of a year growing out simply for the wedding. i walked in to super cuts with long luscious locks tossed up in a ponytail… i walked out of super cuts with a diagonal bob and atrocious layers. then i proceeded to go “home” to a house with 4 male roommates, one of whom was my husband who i shared an air mattress with.

good times.

so… back to my hair pondering state this morning…

it was upon that moment of contemplation when jackson ran into my office to make me aware of something that was clearly of the utmost importance to him…

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FACT: i swiffer vac twice a day, every day.

we have an 85 lb labrador retriever. red. red sheds so much that i often find myself in a state of dry heaving. don’t get me wrong, i’m not OCD when it comes to cleaning (and if you are, more power to you… also, can you please come clean my house? i will pay you in hugs and wine.)

there are a few things that i am WICKEDLY OCD about… 1) the bed. only i can make the bed. if paul attempts, i will redo it. i make it every day and on the rare occasion that it does not get made, it’s because i am either ill and still in the bed, or it’s been one helluva day with jackson and i cannot bring myself to do ONE MORE THING. 2) the dog hair. it MUST be vacuumed up, swept up, or in my case swiffer vac-ed up twice a day. why twice? because that is how much our dog sheds. the hair that i suck up in the machine of glory returns upon the instant that red moves from room to room. so i suck it up once in the morning and again in the late afternoon.

since our home is all hardwood, we have a couple of rugs… one underneath our dining room table and another in jackson’s bedroom. red is not allowed in jackson’s bedroom LIKE EVER… NEVER EVER… however, the dog hair collects in there as it travels through the ducts of our air conditioning system and underneath his bed room door.

so, the rugs are vacuumed on average 3-4 times a week.

given how much of my life is consumed with disposing of red’s hair that collects around our home, i thought i’d share some shots of awesome with you just so that you can fully grasp HOW MUCH dog hair there is, and HOW MUCH this grosses me out.

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it should be noted that jackson really likes to help vacuum, so he follows me around while pushing his toy golf bag as though it is a vacuum. he also likes to say “CHEESE” when he sees me pull the camera out. and lastly, red is very embarrassed that i have written this post about him, letting the world know about the foul amount of dog hair he creates. oh and… he licks his ass… A LOT. that should sufficiently explain the shame on his face. red then decided to pay me back with what i call “the money shot” in the last photo. my apologies in advance.

so, what should i do with my hair? cut it? grow it? shave it all off?

i took jackson to the doctor yesterday. he had a rash on the back of his neck, in between his shoulder blades and it was spreading fairly quickly. he itched at it a bit, but for the most part, he was his same old maniacal self… sprinting from one place to another, “jumping like a kangaroo, mom!”

but i watched him and i worried and i wondered.

he’s had a lot of congestion for over a week.

the dark circles under his eyes… that can’t be right.

and as i thought these things to myself, as i mentally recalled each item of food that had been placed in his mouth and possibly caused a reaction, i began to scare myself, to panic and worry.

you would think i would know better by now, that after almost 28 months of being a mother, i’d have the hang of this parenting gig.

*whispers* somedays… i don’t.

so we went. i woke him up from his nap to take him to see the pediatrician because i needed reassurance.

the waiting room was packed and i watched jackson run to the fish tank to tell me, to tell himself, to tell anyone who would listen to him, the colors of each fish in the tank.

i watched him “jumping like a kangaroo, mom!” over to the table of puzzles and start to place pieces where they fit.

and then i watched an older child approach the table.

jackson panicked and ran back to me. he stood in between my legs, gripping on to the left one and repeated, “i’m ok mom? i’m ok?”

“yes baby, you’re fine. he just wants to play too. i can see you. go play.”

and upon receiving reassurance, he did.

so once we were called back to see the doctor, i was ready to receive mine.

i ran through the list of symptoms he has shown recently… the sniffles. no cough. saline drops and humidifier have helped but not cleared the congestion. dark eyes. sleeping more during the day. no temp. the rash that i can’t seem to explain. could it be heat rash? we haven’t been outside hardly at all with the heat index being in the triple digits.

and finally i just said it out loud…

“i don’t know and it scared me.”

the rash was minor… probably some “contact dermatitis,” meaning something he had on him or was in contact with was an irritant to his skin.

“he’s a sensitive kid,” the doctor told me after explaining her diagnosis and watching him play with her “orange hammer for the knees, mom!”

she examined jackson with care and he was so obedient and sweet with her that we celebrated with popsicles after the appointment.

and while we enjoyed our ice cold snack in the air conditioning of our home, i couldn’t help but wonder when the watching and worrying stops… if ever… because i know i am a worrier.

to my detriment, i am a worrier.

i’m not always going to be able to protect my son… or be there for him to grasp hold of my left leg. he’s going to fall and get bruises and scrapes all while “jumping like a kangaroo, mom!”

but sometimes i just want to pick him up and put him in my pouch.

obviously not this guy…

i hate 2 years old… the age. 2.

not my kid who is 2 and some change. i don’t hate him… i hate his current age.

and yes, when i say “hate,” i mean HATE. LOATHE. DISTAIN.

i hear that 3 is worse than 2… 4 is worse than 3… 5 is worse than 4, etc.

so ultimately, you people are telling me i’m screwed.

super.

thanks.

starting to think i made the wrong decision in having my IUD removed.

there are bruises on my body from where my son pummels into me as though he’s a friggin running back for the NFL. there are scratches from where he’s broken my skin while clawing at my face because he doesn’t want to go down for a nap. my iphone is THIS CLOSE to being entirely busted and the screen of my macbook has more footprints on it than i can count. there are pinch marks, slaps and the very rare teeth mark on my arms from when he chooses to bite me because i have not given him fruit snacks for breakfast…

or a popsicle.

FOR BREAKFAST.

today, i want to give up.

there, i said it.

i’ve done the dishes, taken care of jackson, read to jackson, played with jackson, fed him breakfast and lunch, changed however many diapers (i really need to get on the potty-training train b/c we go thru too many damn diapers), swiffered up an amount of dog hair that makes me gag, run errands b/c jackson was driving me crazy and i figured the next best thing would be to literally drive in the hopes of calming down his crazy… and i’ve done 2 loads of laundry.

it’s 1:13 pm.

my nemesis is currently down for a nap but has been sleeping for MAYBE an hour + which is NOT typical for him and i’m selfish ya’ll.

I NEED THOSE 2 HOURS.

i need them so that i can endure the remainder of the day… the whining, the pouting, the unsatisfactory groans he spews my way when i think he’s asking for one toy when he really wants something entirely different… the fighting to get him to eat SOMETHING that perhaps contains a bit of protein.

when i began today, my mantra was “just make it to wednesday…”

because wednesday i road trip it to NYC with some blog friends to meet up with another blog friend to go to a taping of the daily show with jon stewart.

and yeah, i’m stoked about the trip, which is why my mantra this morning was, “just make it to wednesday…”

but i gotta be honest, right now, my mantra is “just make it til daddy comes home from work.”

and as sick and twisted as it sounds, i have caught myself at times today, with a sly, devilish grin on my face when i think of what paul’s day will be like on wednesday.

jackson… JACKSON for the day… the WHOLE day… morning til whenever i get back… just him and the maniac magoo and laundry and tantrums and dog hair and dishes and dinner on the table when i return…

IF i return.

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bring on the RANTS. give me your best bitching & let’s bond over this bullshit.

but if it means getting the magoo on video, then i’ll sacrifice for the greater good.

also, “cheese.“

class dismissed.