Fort Knox and Popcorn

I guess this blog should start out with an apology for not being very good at posting regularly. I apologize. I haven't posted because when I sit down to the computer I have nothing to say. Oh, I have plenty to say during the day, and some of it is quite funny. I think to myself, "I need to blog about that." Then I promptly forget it.

You see, women experience what is called "pregnancy brain." This is a term used to describe the complete loss of short-term memory during pregnancy that results in many frustrating moments. This condition is also suspected of being the cause for my incessant urge to put the chips in the fridge and the milk in the pantry while pregnant. Luckily this debilitating condition left me with my major motor skills most of the time.

After each child, in theory your mind is supposed to return to normal. But it has been my experience that just as the body is forever changed by bearing a child, so is the mind. I never got that darned short-term memory back completely, and it looks like it's going to be MIA permanently.

This explains why earlier today I decided to make my children popcorn. I placed the bag in the microwave, set the timer, and immediately went to wash dishes. Why? I don't know. It seems to be a side effect of the condition, that at random moments I lose the ability to reason. After all, it rarely takes more than one and a half minutes to cook a snack-size bag of microwave popcorn.

About two minutes into the cooking of the popcorn I begin to smell something. Remembering my horrible error, I go and rescue the popcorn, but it was a lost cause. The poor thing was so burnt it was smoking.

Smoking? Arrrrgggghhhh!!! Now my kitchen smells like burnt popcorn, a smell which I hate. And I smell like it because I was the one who handled the smoking bag. Got a good lungful of it, too. Had to repop a new bag, and this time I made myself stand next to it and not be such a darned multitasker. Because multitasking sometimes is NOT a good thing.

So I reach for some Glade and can't get into the cabinet. Why? Because we've had to make our house tighter than Fort Knox because of our daughter. The incessant curiousity that always gets her into trouble. Recently our baby boy has shown her how to open the cabinets with the locks. So we had to change the locks. These require a key of sorts. It's now my job to try to not let them see me open the doors. Because my little Houdinis will know how to get in if they can watch me once. That is also the reason we had to install new doorknobs at 6' level on my office and the pantry, and change both front and back door locks to double-key locks and hang the keys to where we almost have to stand on our toes to get them. Because I've watched my daughter pull up her chair, balance her drum on the chair, and climb up after the key.

I know you're so jealous 'cause my kid is so smart. Right?

Well, sometimes it's not all it's cracked up to be. Imagine a very smart kid with no impulse control that's faster than a speeding bullet and hasn't yet grasped the concept of "dangerous." (And not for lack of trying to explain it.) Yup, welcome to my life.

BUT... this weekend I'm going to see my in-laws, who in the great tradition of my family are very close and I love them to death. I can hear a night out for our anniversary and Williams Sonoma calling my name, and every minute gets me closer to the break. Because going out of town for me is a break because there are other people to help. Not just me. It makes the 4-6 hours in the car to get to our family worth the drive every time. And, of course, it's nice to see them, too. :)

KID-ISMS: via my daughter
This morning...
Mommy: "Baby, if you can't keep the popcorn in the bowl, I won't let you have popcorn anymore. Look at this mess!"
Baby girl: "He did it!" (Points to Baby boy)
Mommy: "It doesn't matter who did it, there is still a mess and you both need to help clean up."
Baby girl: "Okay, Mommy. Brother, let's be chickens." (Kneels down with hands on waist and starts pecking at the mess)

Last night, at bedtime...
Baby girl: "Daddy, let's sing the duck song."
Daddy: "I don't know the duck song."
Baby girl: "It goes like this... Nonny nonny nonny nonny!! The duck sooooonnnggg... and you see the duck, the duck is cryiiiiing... in the waaaaterrrrr... nonny nonny nonny nonny nonny!!!"
(In reference to a painting of a duck splashing in the water that is hanging on her wall)