The Secret to Time Travel

The other day I was driving by myself. ::ahem:: I was in the car alone. ::ahem:: It was just me. No Scout. No kids. Period.

That never happens.

So I did what any adult that’s been singing “Sesame Street,” “Where Is Thumbkin?,” and “Old MacDonald” would do.

I blasted some Rage Against the Machine. And some Rob Zombie. And some punk music.

Who cares that it was from the late 90s?

You do.

Why? Because listening to that combination of music transports you back to the early 90s.

Whoa.

Excuse me…

How do I know I traveled back in time?

Because I passed a billboard advertising that A Different World was on TV.

Some of you young people are saying, “What’s a billboard?” Some of you even younger people are asking, “What’s A Different World?

A TV show that was on in the late 80s and early 90s. Obviously, I traveled back in time because I don’t know why anyone would need a billboard for a TV show that’s been over for 20 years.

So to recap…

Listening to 90s Music = Time Travel.

You’re welcome.

 

 

 

Oh. My. God. Becky, Look at Her Butt….

Scout looks absolutely nothing like me. She might have my hair, but Kiefer’s hair is darkish, too, so it’s hard to tell.

If I hadn’t been in labor with her for nearly 30 hours, I might question that she was actually my child.

But the other day, this happened:

And it reminded me of this:

Look familiar? Are you looking at my butt? Because that’s not what I meant. Scout’s wearing a diaper, so you can’t really compare our butts.

We both love giant beanbags!

You’re still looking at my butt, aren’t you?

 

Move Over Mel Gibson! Scout Is Braveheart

Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”

It’s fun. No, really.

Then we discovered the soccer ball.

My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”

But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…

• Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
• Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
• What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!

What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?

It’s Rex Manning Day!

I’m declaring today the official Rex Manning Day.  I can do that. I have that authority.

Now we just have to get the President to declare it a Federal holiday. Please sign the petition by commenting below.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about (::head shaking at you, not with you::)…educate yourselves! Watch Empire Records…since my blog is named after that movie. But if you don’t have that kind of time, at the very least, watch the Rex Manning video.

Please celebrate by saying or doing one or more of the following:

• The fat man walks alone.
• Glue quarters to the floor.
• The time to hesitate is through.
• Carry around a couch cushion.
• Leave a red bra on the table of a restaurant.
• What’s with today today?

Happy Rex Manning Day!

Oh Where, Oh Where Can My Baby Be?

Dear Pod People,

Please return my baby. My perfect little baby who…

• Takes 3-4 45-minute naps a day every 2 or 2.5 hours.
• Sleeps through the night for 10 hours.
• Puts herself back to sleep when she wakes up.
• Sleeps in her crib.

I do not appreciate the pod baby you have left in her place. You see, the pod baby is teething.

Don’t be fooled by the cuteness. This IS a future pod person.

The pod baby you see above is not as easy going as my baby. This pod baby nurses to sleep, wakes up an hour later, must fall back asleep on me, and then wakes up every time she goes back into the crib, so I finally give up and bring the pod baby into Mommy and Daddy’s bed where the pod baby decides every few hours that she must sleep on me, not next to me.

And, of course, I get no sleep because I’m convinced I will either roll on said pod baby or roll over while the baby is on top, which will send the baby onto the floor.

I was willing to take care of the pod baby until my husband and I had this conversation:

Thoughtsy: When does the teething stop?

Kiefer: I think they have all their teeth around 2 years.

Thoughtsy: NOOOOOOOOOO!

So there you have it. Just when I thought sleep was once again mine for the taking, I find out there’s another year and a half of no sleep.

Faaaaaantastic.