Epidermal Removal

Twice a year, at my parenting support group, we treat ourselves to a "spa day." We have a masseuse come in and while each member is getting her massage, the rest of us soak are feet, paint our nails, and try out various beauty products.

Now, I know next to nothing about skin care products, but it's always fun to try out yummy smelling goop. Using my aforementioned extensive knowledge of beauty products, I chose my facial scrub with scientific accuracy -- I grabbed the closest one.

As I was rubbing this stuff on my face, one of the other ladies called out to me -- "Sandy, are you using the Thermal Dermal Scrub?" A quick look at the bottle confirmed that I was.

"Oh, I can't use that," said one friend.
"It makes my skin blotchy for days," said another.

The stuff was already on my face, though, and it said to leave it on for 5 minutes. What the heck. It didn't feel irritating and I've never reacted to any products before. And 5 minutes wasn't very long. I checked the clock.

By minute 3 I was frantically washing it off my face. It couldn't have burned more if I had been using Ben Gay. Even after it was all washed away, my face felt like it was on fire. A quick look in the mirror revealed that I looked like I was on fire too -- or at least very badly sunburned. As I sat gasping, fanning myself with my hands in the vain hope of dousing the flames. At this point I was seriously considering sticking my head in the freezer. I managed to croak out, "what is this stuff supposed to do anyway?"

"Oh, it's great," said a woman who is obviously insane. "It takes the whole top layer of your skin off! Don't you love the way it tingles?"

I hope beauty isn't only skin deep, 'cause if it is, I've just lost mine.

Confessions

They say confession is good for the soul, so here it goes:

I confess...

• My children were both tummy sleepers.
• My kids slept in my bed until they were 4.
• I sometimes pretend I don't know what they are up to because I just don't feel like going to the effort of punishing them right now.
• Baths are often a weekly occurrence. Sometimes tooth brushing is too.
• Colin is still wearing pull-ups at night even though he's 4 years old.
• I let the children get the free cookie at the grocery store... even if it's 9 am.
• TV is a great babysitter.
• Colin's basic four basic food groups are: Rice Krispies, Mini-Wheats, Cheerios, and Cinnamon Life.

On Dogs and Robots

Colin asked me if dogs were friendly. I said that dogs were friendly, but their job is to protect their owner. So, I said, if you had a dog and a bad guy came near you, the dog would bark. (I gave an impressive performance of a barking dog.) And if the bad guy still didn't go away, I said, then the dog would bite him. (Again, I earned an Oscar.)

"So," Colin said, "a dog's job is to..." (he trailed off, as if unsure.)
"Protect its owner," I finished for him.

He smiled wide.

"Just like robots!" he said.

Colin's Imagination

Colin dictated this story to me this morning. He was eating a hot dog and one of the pieces wasn't cut completely in half. He thought it looked like a book, so he pretended to read the story.

"Once upon a time, there was a baby hotdog who lived in a volcano. He had a sister hotdog, but no parents. They missed their parents soooooo much. So they decided to crawl out of the volcano and find a house where there were more talking hotdogs. They went inside the house and met some parents that only belonged to baby hotdogs. Their parents were big, just like the baby hotdog's sister. She was tall and they were tall. The end."

I couldn't be any prouder of my baby hotdog.

Future Retailer

I think proximity to JC Penney is affecting Caroline. I was upstairs getting a pair of pants for Colin, but I couldn't remember what shirt he was wearing. So I called down to Caroline asking her what color his shirt was.

Her response? "It's kind of the color of a sea turtle."

I think she has a future in marketing, as one of those people that names the colors with words like "Paprika" and "Tumbleweed."

(The shirt was a blue and green tie-dye)

Elephants on Parade

We went to the circus. We rode on an elephant. We saw trapeze artists and gymnasts. We saw an animal show with a horse, a pony, a llama, and a camel. We ate popcorn and cotton candy.

But there was one attraction that I missed, but clearly the children did not.

When we got home the only thing the kids wanted to talk about, with awe in their voice, was a part of the elephant's anatomy.

Described in large detail.

I Hate God

I was sitting in IHOP with the children, enjoying an unusually peaceful lunch, when Caroline suddenly stuck her middle finger up in the air for all of IHOP to see.

"We're not allowed to do this in school," she said.

"Of course not," I replied, while batting her hand down to the table. "It's a rude gesture."

"Well, I think it's silly," replied my sweet little girl, finger still extended.

"I guess it is kind of silly. It's only rude to us because we say that it means a particular thing, but lots of gestures have meaning." I made an ok sign and a thumbs up. "After all, you know what these things mean."

"But why is this rude?" she asks, finger going up again.

Oh, lord, why me?

"Look, you wouldn't say 'screw you' to someone, would you?," I said. lowering my voice.

She looked awed at my use of profanity. "No way!"

"Well, when you make that gesture, that's what you are saying. That's what that gesture means."

"That's not what the kids at school said," she says, looking unconvinced that I knew what I was talking about, but finally releasing her finger from the offensive position.

I was intrigued. "What do the kids at school say it means?"

"I hate God."

Does she really think that wouldn't be a rude gesture! I wasn't sure which to address first, the wrong information, or the whole God thing.

I opted for assuring her that the kids at school were wrong, but I guess we'd better have that other conversation soon, before they start burning crosses on our lawn...

...or question marks.

Cloudy With a Chance of Peas?

Colin was talking about Greenland this morning, insisting that he was going there for a visit. I imagine he heard his father and sister talking about it -- Mark was correcting her pronunciation. After I listened to him babble for a while, I asked him what he wanted to see in Greenland.

He said "To see the green food falling out of the sky! But I don't want to eat the peas."

The kids have read a book called "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs" about a town called Chewandswallow where it rains food.

I laughed and said "It's not Chewandswallow, Colin!"

Very patiently, he replied "no, they have regular food. All the food in Greenland is green."