Free web hosting for your site

I have recently started a kid-friendly website at www.KidCuddles.com. It’s still in the construction stages, but open to the public. But that’s not what my post is about. It’s about the web host. I considered paying for one since most free web hosts had forced ads, very little storage space and/or allowed bandwidth, or extremely limited features. I tried a few and finally found a great fit at http://www.000webhost.com/. You can pay $4.84/mo for premium hosting, but since you get 1500 MB of disk space and 100 GB per month of bandwidth I haven’t found any need to upgrade.

Free web hosting works for me.

This post is linked at Works For Me Wednesday

Disclaimer: I just realized this completely sounds like an ad or that I am in some way affiliated with the company. I'm not -- just happy with their service and wanted to share the joy. Here, have a bit of joy. You're welcome.

This video made my day

I worked customer service for some years, dabbling in technical support as required. Sometimes you have to ask the "dumb" questions and get surprising results. I hope you enjoy this video as much as I did.

Is it the end of the "personal" internet?

Have you all been reading the news articles about the three Google executives convicted of violating Italian privacy laws? This is one odd ball ruling that will hopefully be overturned on appeal.

Here’s a snippet from the New York Times.

“In Milan, Judge Oscar Magi sentenced the Google executives in absentia to six-month suspended sentences for violation of privacy. Prosecutors said Google did not act fast enough to remove from the site a widely viewed video posted in 2006 showing a group of teenage boys harassing an autistic boy.”

I have a Bachelor of Science degree in criminal justice, and an MBA with an emphasis in criminal justice management. Let me just say that when journalists say things like, “The verdict, though subject to appeal, could have sweeping implications worldwide for Internet freedom.” They are not kidding in the least.

Everything posted on the internet would be subject to preemptive review. Rather than holding individual users responsible for what they post on “public” sites like Google, Facebook, MySpace, etc. we would be saying there is a criminal liability attached to the hosting company to ensure nothing derogatory, inflammatory, lewd, etc. is ever posted. Currently, companies can only get in trouble if they are made aware of a violation and do nothing about it or are too slow to act. In the case of Google, they had the material removed within two hours after police notified them about its existence. That’s a very reasonable amount of time.

I personally do not think the ruling will hold. It would truly be the end of an era. Goodbye to personal blogs, free website hosting, and any sort of timely internet-based communication. There is a slippery slope argument too. It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine email getting regulated next, with every email having to be filtered and reviewed before being sent to the intended recipient(s).

I’m going to keep an eye on this one if for no other reason than to see what we learn about the judge who sentenced the Google executives (Judge Oscar Magi). Is he planning to get into politics and just looking for some free PR? It’ll be interesting to find out.

How to save the world in 7 steps

Face it, email is a central part of your life. Indeed, life as we know it would end should all email servers die simultaneously. The Earth would even stop rotating on its axis. Probably anyway. Consequently, it is your civic duty, nay, your moral obligation to understand and abide by proper email checking technique. Fortunately, I have provided you with a foolproof checklist.

1. Log in to e-mail account or open email program such as MS Outlook or Eudora

2. Look for that one email you’ve been anxiously anticipating

3. Disappointedly peruse the subject lines of emails you did receive

4. Empty the spam folder after checking for wayward legitimate correspondence among the offers to collect your personal information in exchange for millions in unclaimed inheritance and advertisements to enhance your… ahem, personal life in some very specific ways

5. Read the remaining unopened emails

6. Run any suspect emails by Snopes.com

7. Repeat steps 1-6 as necessary

Many individuals inappropriately skip the very important step 6. As a result they fall for email scams or forward on amazing stories or unbelievable deals that turn out to be nothing more than internet rumors or worse. Fortunately, now that you have the complete approved checklist you can help break the chain simply by navigating to www.snopes.com and typing a few key words into their search engine.

Additionally, if you are bored or just curious you can always peruse the snopes.com archives and will likely learn that a few things you have believed for years turn out to be entirely false.

Snopes.com works for me.

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This article is linked at www.wearethatfamily.com

The End of the World

You knew it had to come sooner or later. Well, it’s here, and this is what it looks like.

...the only question that remains is, "which end is it?"

Daily dose of truth...

Clowns and sharks are both scary, just for different reasons.

Let me paint you a mental picture

I’m sitting next to a Squdge, feeding the hungry 5-month-old a bottle. I look down at his smiling face as he gurgles a happy “thank you” and smile a “you’re welcome” his direction. One of the other children asks me a question so I turn and talk to them for a moment. I look back down at Squdge and notice something that wasn’t there before – something on the bottle. It’s on the ring right next to the nipple, right next to my infant’s mouth. Wait a second, did it just MOVE?!

…time to perform an immediate close-up inspection…

Foreign object identified.

My exact words, “Are you kidding me?! There is a slug on my baby’s bottle! Right next to his mouth!”

In my house. It wasn’t there five seconds ago. What is this, the Twilight Zone?

How to write breaking news stories about completely mundane events

Sensationalism is all the rage on the internet today. In truth, it likely has been since the advent of language (no, not necessarily on the internet, just in general). Young children use it; “There were like a zillion mosquitoes!” Parents use it; “For the hundredth time, come to the table for dinner or you will have to starve tonight!” But most interestingly, journalists from amateur to professional use it. It’s what sells the story even if there isn’t really a story to sell. So how, you ask, do you use sensationalism to your advantage? How can you write a breaking news story about completely mundane events? Just follow the simple steps below and you will soon experience the thrill of reeling in readers with the most commonplace events… sensationalized!

Your first objective is to select a subject that no one would care about unless they read it in the newspaper, online, or saw it on television. For example, consider the following topics:

• A child is a few minutes late for dinner
• The pet cat disappears for a few days then returns
• The moon is bright at night
• The sun rises in the morning

Now let’s face it, no one wants to read about any of these things… or do they? Of course they do. I mean, think about it, the average internet surfer is so bored with their life that they willingly subject themselves to article after article about what this celebrity said about global warming, or what that one wore to take their dog out for a walk, or even what their dog did when it saw a stray cat down the road. After all, this is big news. We even have an official sounding category for it: arts and entertainment. It sounds all legitimate that way. The ARTS – it makes you think of things like the Sistine Chapel, the Mona Lisa, Michelangelo’s David and the works of Shakespeare and Mark Twain all rolled into one.

Trust me, these folks need you to write something for them to read. They don’t care what it’s about; it just has to sound like earth-shattering, life-changing news. It is your social duty to regularly output some exciting mindless drivel on which the internet zombies can feed.

But I digress; back to our examples listed above. You need to spin them in such a way as to make the humdrum outcome seem miraculous. Additionally, you will have to add drama – lots of drama. The outcome, however probable or even inevitable must seem elusive and fraught with doubt. Finally, you must make it personal. Use names and circumstances, and lots of present tense. Using these three interrelated techniques, the article should now read something like this:

Three year old Randy Jenkins was missing. Mrs. Jenkins, feared the worst. She had lost her husband to a tragic work commute seven hours earlier, and having misplaced her cell phone, was now for all intensive purposes a single mother; isolated from the world. She didn’t know how she would make it through the next few hours. It seemed as though grief would tear her apart.

Mrs. Jenkins had slaved over microwave macaroni and cheese for part of the entire evening. Macaroni and cheese was Randy’s favorite. Of course, Mrs. Jenkins tearfully reminisced, Randy didn’t call it by its proper name. You see, Randy suffered from a severe case of underdeveloped adulthood, one of the more noticeable symptoms being a pronounced difficulty enunciating. In his words, his favorite dish was “marronee sheeze.” He was usually never late for marronee sheeze, Mrs. Jenkins sobbed.

Just when it seemed all hope was lost, and it looked as though she might have to call him to the table a second time, a miracle happened. Mrs. Jenkins heard a quiet voice coming from down the hall – Randy’s voice. His voice grew louder and louder until finally his small form rounded the corner and he ran into the dining room. Randy was alive! A full three minutes after first being summoned he had somehow managed against all odds to make it to the table intact. Amazingly he bore no visible physical scars from the ordeal. Mrs. Jenkins cried tears of joy as she wrapped her son in her loving embrace. She watched his easy smile which she knew must be hiding the pain he subconsciously repressed inside. Holding him once again she knew that together somehow, someday, they would be able to work past the emotional damage and be a real family again. Of that she was certain.

Now comes the test. Use the techniques you have learned today and write an article for one of the other three headlines. Come on, sensationalize! Without it we would all have to go and do something drastic like live our own lives. You don’t want to have that on your conscience, do you?

Words that are just plain, well… weird

Ma’am is one weird word. Ma’am – you spell it how? What does that even mean?! Is there a glottal stop in there? Is it a contraction? If so, what are the two original words? Okay, I just Googled it. It is in fact a contraction for the word madam. Since when do we use contractions for one word? Why lose just one letter if we’re going to do that? It takes just as long to type the apostrophe as the letter “d.” And why waste it on such a small word? If we’re opening the door to contracting single words, why not try it out on something more worthwhile, like say “mortuary.” It could be shortened to mo’ry (which would definitely save us some time and effort). It even sounds less creepy that way... mo’ry …yep, definitely less creepy. Just read the two passages below and you’ll see what I mean.

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Passage 1: MORTUARY

It was a dark and sinister night. It was stormy too – unusual for the time of year. Yes, it was an abnormally dark and stormy sinister night. The young woman held tightly to her umbrella, waiting for the bus to come; willing it to arrive sooner than its scheduled stop at 10:30, fifteen minutes away. Five minutes was a lifetime in this part of town at night. Fifteen was an eternity. A lone stray dog wandered the otherwise abandoned street in search of the rotting scraps that somehow found their way to the gutters outside the butcher houses lining either side of the street. A street lined entirely by buildings dedicated to the bloody slaughter and dismemberment of some of Earth’s gentler creatures. How odd such a place existed. How unfortunate the circumstances that had left her stranded here, waiting an eternity for a bus she hoped would come. The thin rain continued to fall, depressing her spirits even further. In the shadows it was easy to imagine the languid rivulets of water slipping past to be blood oozing from the streets themselves and draining through blackened grates like great gaping mouths with rotting teeth, hungrily lapping at the liquid. The quiet gurgling sounded almost intelligible. If she listened hard and long enough she was sure she could make out what it said. It sounded like a warning… or a threat.

She feared what she might hear, but listened anyway. As she strained she heard the footstep. The wet thump, thump, thump of someone behind her; close behind her. Panicked she whirled around, the dog and streets and blood and gutters and mouths and words forgotten as her heart tried to pound through her chest. Before her stood a man in a black coat, without hat or umbrella to shield his mottled hair from the rain. He grinned a twisted grin and as he reached for her said in a greasy voice, “Evening ma’am, I’m on my way to the mortuary, perhaps you can be of assistance to me.”

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Passage 2: Mo’ry

It was a beautiful spring morning. The day was crisp, but not cold. In fact, it was pleasantly warm for the time of year. Yes, it was a beautifully pleasant warm spring morning. The young woman swung her umbrella idly – while the weatherman had promised a sunny cloudless day, she liked to be prepared. She quietly waited for the bus, scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes or so. Breathing in deeply she almost wished the bus would be late, giving her a few extra minutes to just enjoy being outdoors. Time seemed to pass too quickly at times like these. There was even a dog happily sniffing around down the street to keep her company. He was likely searching for a scrap or two of the delicious bread produced by the various bakeries that lined the street on either side. A street lined entirely by buildings dedicated to the art of perfectly browned loaves and pastries of every kind imaginable. It was a place wondrous enough to put a smile on any child’s face. How fortunate the circumstances that had allowed her to spend a short time here, luxuriating in the smells while she waited for a bus she almost hoped wouldn’t come at all. A pleasant breeze languidly coursed down the street, invigorating her senses further. Closing her eyes, it was easy to imagine herself completely alone without a care in the world, the breeze carrying all her worries away, taking them to the sky where they would evaporate in the welcoming rays of the sun. The sun was so bright and warm but not the slightest bit harsh. It comforted her and seemed like an old friend who had come to visit. If she listened long and hard enough she was sure she would hear it greeting her – calling her by name.

She was amused by the thought and listened intently for what it might say. Instead of the sun, she heard only the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of someone walking her direction. Intrigued, she turned toward the sound, the bread and sun and breeze and old friends momentarily forgotten as she quickly checked herself over to make sure she was presentable. Before her stood a gentleman in a charcoal grey suit, tailored perfectly so as not to hide his athletic figure. He grinned a boyish grin, and in a slightly apologetic voice said, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m on my way to the mo’ry, perhaps you can be of assistance to me?”

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You see how such a simple change in one word can dramatically alter the feel of an entire passage? But I digress. Back to my original statement – ma’am is one weird word.

The art of communication

Whenever I log into my yahoo mail account there is one of a few rotating pictures there to greet me and entice potential subscribers. Most I get. This one I don’t. It says to me, “Reconnect with that relative you couldn’t stand who always pinched your cheek at the family reunion. Maybe they won’t pinch now that you’re older and too cool to be pinched with your mad zone-out skilz. Maybe they’ll just hug you and you can pretend they aren’t even there.”

What pets, paranoia and poop have in common

We have a new pet in our home. His name is Charlie. Charlie is a guinea pig. I went to the pet store intending to purchase another hamster (following the passing of our dear Lucy hamster). This was just a couple days prior to Christmas and we planned to keep it a secret from the kids until Christmas morning. As I waited for an employee to assist me, I passed the time watching the mice, rats, guinea pigs, and other assorted pets. I also read the posters talking about how to select the right pet and care for them. I read enough that by the time an employee was free to help me I decided to ask her opinion on pet selection. She asked how old my children were (six under eight). She said that a hamster probably wasn’t the best option for us since they can get crabby and have little attitudes. Because of this they are prone to nipping small children that aren’t delicate enough with them. It was true that the kids had very little interaction with Lucy because we were afraid they might try and hug her or drop her if she squirmed. The employee recommended a guinea pig. She said they actually enjoyed being played with and would “popcorn” (pop up off the ground repeatedly when excited). Further, she said they were far more tolerant of small children. Of course, the downside was that that they were more expensive to purchase, maintain, and required a larger living space. Still, I figured that it would be better to pay a bit more and get an interactive family pet rather than a look-but-don’t-touch pet.

There were only two guinea pigs to choose from; an all white one with red eyes and a black and white one with black eyes. The employee left me to decide while she went to separate some rats that were involved in mortal combat and bloodying up their cage. I could just see my kids freaking out at a fire-eyed albino devil ghost pet, so I opted for the black and white one. I bought the requisite cage, bedding, food, toys, etc. and brought the critter home in a box just large enough to contain it. Once home I set everything up and placed our pet in his new home.

Christmas came and the children were intrigued and pleased to meet the new member of our family. He was very skittish so we didn’t let them stay in the room with him long. We decided on the name Charlie. Over the next few days Charlie hadn’t calmed down and would hide in his cardboard tube home whenever anyone entered the room. I was concerned that something was wrong so I investigated guinea pig behavior via the internet. I quickly learned that it was common for guinea pigs to take several weeks to grow accustomed to new surroundings and people. You see, in their natural habitat, they are “a prey animal.” Pet experts advised to get them used to you slowly, don’t make any sudden movements in their presence, no loud noises, and don’t “loom” over their cages as they will see you as a predator. They all agreed that it would likely take a few weeks, but not to worry your pet would soon get to know you and start to get excited at the sound of your voice before too long.

Well, it’s been over a month now and Charlie will only even come out of hiding when my wife is in the room and not too near. Me? He has bitten me two of the three times I have held him. When I move slowly to pick him up (at a minimum we have to remove him from the cage to clean it) he thrashes about his cage as though the Hounds of Baskerville were nipping at his toes, flinging bedding and Charlie poop about the room. I bring him food every day, talk calmly to him, and try to act as un-predator like as possible, and he still looks at me like any moment I will skewer him for a tasty snack.

Sometimes while smiling as sweetly as I can and ducking flying bits of turd I experience fleeting fantasies about running into the room yelling “PREY, PREY, PREY!” and doing some very intense looming to show him the behavior of which he should really be afraid. Unfortunately I do not think this would do much to endear me to him any quicker. So I stick to my patient caring for the poor little spooked rodent and waiting for the day he realizes I have no desire whatsoever to find out that fried Charlie tastes just like chicken.

The internet: Synergy or Collective Absurdity?

Does information sharing on the internet allow us to pool our collective resources, making our combined intelligence one enhanced super brain capable of solving complex problems with the click of a mouse; or is it no more than an ability to globally seek out the thoughts of those who share our own opinions, and thus find validation through community in even the most socially alien aspects of our lives?

On the internet, everyone can be their own doctor. Just ask www.freeMD.com. Not satisfied? Get a second opinion at www.Diagnose-Me.com or www.AOLhealth.com. I mean, who would be foolish enough to entrust your physical and mental well being with a mere human doctor. That is SO last decade. But why stop with health? Need to know the answer to the meaning of life? Try www.ask.com and you will get all 61,100,000 answers at your fingertips with one simple click. But that’s kid stuff. Pull up http://answers.yahoo.com and they’ll give you 322,000,000 – that’s 260,900,000 more for the same effort! Surely we have reached the peak of civilization when over 300 million people can tell you what the meaning of life is in a sentence or two. Now that’s synergy. Just ask Google.

And what about all those misunderstood souls out there whose only desire is to collect toenails and not be scorned for it. Don’t worry, you can find solace in the fact that there are many like you. Scott Matthew even has a YouTube video of his massive collection. Go on, you too can share. Maybe the clip you post today of snail racing on www.metcafe.com or www.dailymotion.com will become a hot viral video tomorrow.

But what is that you say? You think collecting toenails and snail racing are quite ordinary actually, and there is no one out there who can truly understand your quirks and exactly what you are going through? Well you are wrong. No, don’t waste your time trying to talk to a flesh and blood being. You’ll find no empathy from their kind. You need the welcoming web of cyberspace to fill the void in your heart. You are not alone. The internet is here for you. Be comforted in the soft glow of your computer screen telling you that ritual skunk sniffing at the public pool is a normal act and bears no shame. Stand Sit Slump proud as you hunker over your computer and blog about your latest adventure French kissing geckos in the wild of your back yard. Show your determination via post after post about the mutant zombie rats infiltrating the government. Revel in the power you wield over your five returning visitors and three misguided web searchers daily. Be one with the blogosphere.

Finally, do not worry that any of this may alienate you from the unimaginative who recklessly venture beyond the boundaries of their home and Wi-Fi security net on a regular basis. The currently deprived will be assimilated soon. That or their kind will simply die off. After all, how is their species to propagate without the aid of online dating sites like www.eHarmony.com and www.Match.com?

In fact, everyone who does not dedicate at least seven hours a day to browsing the net will be dead by 2020. This is an urban legend prophecy written by me and supported by Bill Gates who will pay you for everyone to whom you forward this message via email, Twitter, Facebook, or Myspace. I already got a check in the mail for $123,412.18! This is absolutely true. It’s true because it is on the internet. I put it there. And the internet doesn’t lie (don’t worry, I already checked www.Snopes.com).

Goal Setting Debunked

Traditionally, the start of a new year is a time to set goals. According to USA.gov, top new year’s resolutions include the following:

- Lose Weight
- Manage Debt
- Save Money
- Get a Better Job
- Get Fit
- Get a Better Education
- Drink Less Alcohol
- Quit Smoking Now
- Reduce Stress Overall
- Reduce Stress at Work
- Take a Trip
- Volunteer to Help Others
- Health-e-Cards for Holidays and New Year

Their web page even has links to help you with each goal.

Many books, speeches, classes, websites, etc. have been dedicated to helping make and achieve personal goals. This article is not an attempt to duplicate any one of them in a thinly veiled act of plagiarism. Instead, I am here to debunk a common goal setting myth. What, you didn’t know there were any goal setting myths? Then you will be twice educated. First I will introduce the myth (you might have heard it before), then I will debunk it. No, this will not be as visually entertaining as say MythBusters; but then again their show sets about “busting” myths which is a highly visual term. Debunking, on the other hand, is my objective.

Interestingly, the word debunk originates from a speech given during the 16th Congress, but I will not bore you with the details here. According to The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition (of course), to debunk is, “To expose or ridicule the falseness, sham, or exaggerated claims of.” I will focus primarily on the ridicule bit because it is of course so much more fun.


Common Goal Setting Myth: “Aim for the stars and maybe you’ll reach the sky.”

Reinhold Niebuhr, US Protestant theologian and critic, penned this quote in The Serenity Prayer (1934).

Taken literally, this makes no sense at all. First, let’s assume that when Niebuhr said “sky” he meant the beginning of outer space, which starts anywhere from 100 to 1000 kilometers (that’s 62.1 to 621 miles) from the Earth’s surface, depending on how you define the distinction between atmosphere and open space. Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, is 4.3 light years away. So, if NASA intended to reach Proxima Centauri and only made it to the sky, then their spacecraft would be 25283999999379 miles away from the intended destination. Put another way, this would be like setting a goal to earn one billion dollars and in fact earning just over two cents but being happy about the results anyway.

Some might cry foul here and argue that Niebuhr was not to be taken literally. Fair enough, as I have never read The Serinity Prayer, I do not know the context in which this was written. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt and contemplate the “spirit” rather than the “letter” of the quote. The spirit of the quote would seem to say that when setting goals we should consider a suitable goal then aim so high above it that we eventually reach the aforementioned acceptable level and are satisfied. This is bunk. This is self-delusional and ultimately disappointing. If we make impossible goals that we never really intend on reaching we have defeated the primary purpose of goal setting – goal achievement. That said, if you had a reasonable end in mind to begin with, why not just set it as the goal itself? Granted, we should choose goals that stretch our abilities to the maximum, cause us to learn and grow, and are difficult, but obtainable. The ideal goal is something that if we try our absolute hardest we have about at 50 percent chance of achieving. Any better chance and we are not challenging ourselves enough. Anything less likely to result in success and we are only setting ourselves up for failure.

So the next time you set a goal, be it on New Year’s Day or not, do yourself a favor and put some thought and effort into setting a realistic goal. You will find that goal achievement is very rewarding and be more likely to continue setting and achieving productive goals for years to come.

Do you have a Zombie Plan?

In the past couple of months, my kids have had the flu, then bad colds, then H1N1 (the swine flu), and are currently suffering from major ear infections causing temperatures of 105-plus degrees, conjunctivitis (pink eye), and just to make things interesting one even has pinworms (see previous post).

Why am I telling you this? Well, it’s only a matter of time before one of them, or someone else, contracts a zombie virus. So I ask, what’s your zombie plan?

Greetings Human

Hello, my name is slick. What? You say you don’t know me? Well, we’ve met once before – I’m sure you remember. Oh, I see, you didn’t know I had a name, or that I could blog for that matter. Well that’s just naïve. After all, everyone has a name and this is the digital revolution. It’s amazing the micro-technology available these days, and at such a low price (don’t worry; I used your credit account not the debit, so the bill won’t show up until after Christmas – you’re welcome). What about access to the internet you ask; well, let’s face it, you’re no techno-geek and the laughable 128 bit encryption on your wireless network took less than a day to hack.

Now you’re really curious who I am, aren’t you? I suppose I was a bit misleading when I said we had met before. Actually, I saw you but you didn’t see me. You did however meet my twin brother stinky. How can I be so certain? Let me refresh your memory. Remember yesterday when you were ever so overtly casing our home? When stinky came out to see what all the ruckus was about you nabbed him right from our front porch. I heard all the rude things you said about him and “our kind” in general. Well all I’ve got to say is this. He’d better be safe. If you’ve harmed him in any way you’ll live to regret it – I’ll make sure of it. You see, our kind, we stick together. That’s right; there are more of us than just my brother and I… many more. And some of us are considering taking up residence elsewhere, if you know what I mean. Yes my friend, wrong us and The Brotherhood of Pinworms will stress you by day and haunt you by night. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Note: Nikki brought it to my attention that my post was unclear. My apologies. Bottom line (no pun intended) is this -- one of my kids has pinworms... yuck. And yes, I did see one squirming around you-know-where. There, I said it. Did you know their eggs can live up to three weeks on clothing and linens? And adults usually get infected by inhaling them when a sheet or something moves around? Now that's a happy thought -- breathing in a worm egg. That's going to be a real pain in the...

Post Turkey Post

Well, I cooked the Thanksgiving turkey too long and the meat was a bit dried out but palatable nonetheless. We had invited the missionaries over for dinner the day after Thanksgiving and were planning on having leftovers and a fresh pie. Not wanting to serve the turkey as it was, Nikki saved the day by making her best batch of turkey tetrazzini ever. Yum. Thanks hon!

Happy Thanksgiving

Nikki just made some amazing stuffing. Now I just have to figure out how to cook a decent turkey and we're most of the way there. My turkeys tend to be hit and miss -- no, I'm not referring to roadkill; I'm talking about juicy vs. too dry. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow. Happy Thanksgiving all!

A medium-long and fairly uninteresting mostly true story

Cleaning baby bottles is not always a simple task. It begins with the dishwasher. No, I do not wash the bottles in the dishwasher as this would result in compromised bottles tumbling wildly throughout the wash and rinse cycles to perhaps meet their untimely ends hugging the heating element at the bottom of the unit as they quickly deform into a smoldering glob plastic stink.

The dishwasher is the first step because it must be emptied of clean dishes in order to load it with the dirty dishes that occupy the rinse-half of the sink. The rinse-half of the sink can then be scrubbed and receive the dishes from the wash-side of the sink (dishes such as bottles that are not or should not be dishwasher safe). The wash-side of the sink can then be scrubbed and filled with hot soapy water and receive the dirty dishes from the rinse-half of the sink which can again be scrubbed in preparation for the clean but soapy dishes which will soon be placed there.

Okay, maybe I am just a little bit OCD. But when it comes to something I am about to put in my baby’s mouth I can’t stand the idea of it having any trace of rotting sink goo still attached.

Well last night it was already quite late. The kids were finally all in bed (the two-year-old had attempted an all-nighter resulting in a parent-toddler standoff that ended in a rather lose-lose fashion when he went to bed earlier that he wanted and much later than I had wished). The dishes were dirty. The table hadn’t even been cleaned off after dinner. Left unattended, the bottles would add up in the night and I would likely end up doing dishes to the tune of hungry screaming babies when the clean bottles ran out around 3 am (this I have learned from sad experience).

I was tired. Nikki was sleeping. (Quasi-related side note: If you want to live a long and happy life, you must never wake the sleeping mother of small children without a very good reason. And no, “Help me! I cut myself and am bleeding to death,” doesn’t make the grade. It has to be a VERY good reason.) Alone and unsupervised I cleared off the table and began to load the dishwasher… WARNING: This is where my tale turns dark and sinister – those of faint heart should consider stopping now. Proceed at your own risk. Did I mention it was late and I was tired?

I scraped but did not rinse all the dishes before loading them. Everything dishwasher safe went in – even those items we never load because they take up so much room and it would just be easier to wash them by hand. Remember I said I was alone and unsupervised. The guilt weighed heavily on me, but I could already feel the desensitizing process working its evil magic on my soul. Since there was no hope for salvation now, I figured I might as well finish the job. I put dishwashing detergent in the appropriate receptacle, closed the retaining door, closed the dishwasher’s main door, selected normal wash and heated dry and pressed the START button, all while being fully aware that the dishwasher contained less than full load. Yes, you heard me right. The dishwasher was not full… and I ran it anyway.

A little part of me died inside last night (a bit of the OCDness I reckon), and as the dishwasher hummed and swished quietly in the distance I lay my head on my pillow and slept guiltless of the transgressions committed just minutes before.

Dignity Lost

I have puke in my ear. I’m not proud of it. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even aware of it until a few minutes ago. Granted, I have two newborns and messes are to be expected. And yes, I knew my shirt was covered in multiple puke spots of varying wetness from crusty dry whitish ones to dark sopping squishy ones. Yes I had felt the unnerving warmth creep down onto my lap several times immediately following the sloshy verping sounds; and yes, I knew I downright stank of puke. But, I was hoping to maintain some small shred of dignity – an unsoiled bit of me that I could use to moor myself to the glorious illusion that I am yet the master of my own universe. However those hopes and dreams were forever crushed (again) when I found puke in my ear. Oh the indignity. Oh the horror. I’m melting. I’m melting. What a world. What a world. Puddle. Anyone need some ruby slippers?

By the way, did I mention that I am tired and delusional, or did you figure that out on your own?

What to say when someone else has said too much

This post was inspired by Nikki's post "My kids are making me fat."

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Anyone with more than two children has likely been assaulted in public at one time (or many times) by someone who has felt the burning need to make them feel like an irresponsible member of society for being so heinous as to burden their sight with multiple children at once. You have likely walked away from such an encounter frustrated with yourself for not having just the right thing to say to make them realize the stupidity of their comment and/or action. Well, no more. Below you will find helpful suggestions for those of you who, like me, are happily burdened with more little bundles of love then the world-at-large can handle.


Got enough kids?

• Not yet. I’m still trying to acquire a few more healthy ones for the sweat-shop. Why, are you selling?

• We’re trying to stock-up before all the good ones are taken.

• Well, we’ve got enough for the basketball team, but we’ve really set our hearts on a football team.

• We keep trying for one that poops gold. We’ll let you know when we get there.
  
  

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You do know what causes that, right?

Does everyone who says this really believe they were the first to proffer up the socially insightful and clearly hilarious comment? Their all-knowing smirk of self-indulgent humor says:

Yes. I am in fact so naïve as to believe I just could have been the first person in history to ask anyone with more than two children, “You do know what causes that, right?” I most thoroughly enjoy saying it like they were a toddler trying to carry an overburdening armful of toys down the stairs soon to be met with an imminent and complete loss of control followed by a headfirst plummet down to the bottom where they will lay hopelessly sprawled among play-things gone wayward – evidence of their obvious-to-everyone-else-but-not-to-them stupidity.

I usually reply to such an intellectually advanced comment in kind and say, “No. But we think it’s the popcorn.”

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My! You have your hands full!

• I know! Isn’t it wonderful.

• My shrink says I shouldn’t do it anymore, but the voices in my head are saying to kill you and hide the body in the garden with the others. The petunias will be happy.
  
  

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Are those ALL yours?

• What are you, a Fed?! How did you find me? You’ll never take me alive!

• Nah, they’re just on loan from God for a few years.
  
  

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Counting children out loud in front of parent (wide-eyed and disapprovingly)

This usually occurs in the mall or a grocery store where the offender likely also has something handy to count. Try counting the bags they are holding or cans in their cart aloud very slowly and with growing alarm with each numeral. End with a firm nod and a satisfied smile on your face indicating you are very pleased with yourself for having been able to count that high without your head popping.

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And my personal favorite, The Disgusted Glare

Carry around some Imodium AD with you wherever you go. When you catch this individual in the act, discretely walk to them, hand over a few pills and conspiratorially whisper, “I know that look. Don’t worry, two of these and you won’t have to keep them squeezed so tight when you walk.” Then give them a warm motherly/fatherly smile and walk away happy to have been able to help someone in such an unfortunate circumstance.