Looney Mother with head cold seeks advice ...

It's that time of year. Warm foreheads, runny noses, dry coughs and incessant sneezing. Two for the price of one at the Looneybin. My son and I are both sick with the crud. As if the feeling of being hit by a mack truck, followed by being left for dead in 5 o'clock traffic isn't enough, I have one more thing to deal with.
"What the hell?" Yes, I typed it out loud. "What the hell?" That is the first step. Maybe now I can get the help I need!
"What the hell" is just one phrase in a string of several verbal obscenities (if you will) that my son has tried out at school in the past few weeks. He's had a great voice coach ... his best friend ... a lovable little boy who is sweet and charming, but must have an undiagnosed case of toddler turret's. It's all I can figure. This child comes up with things that I am certain I did not dare utter - much less even know existed - until well into my teens. I do remember calling my father a turd once during the well-known Happy Days era. One of my sisters urged me to replace Nerd with Turd, which I did at the .......... dinner table. I have never uttered the word again. My tongue doesn't pronounce t sounds so well anymore ...
So back to the situation at hand: my son the sailor and his friend Potty Mouth. I have taken some things under consideration when dealing with this situation. This child is living with grandparents - who really have their hands full raising him and two teenage boys. So he gets the potty mouth honest, huh? Additionally, this child was born with a medical condition and has faced many challenges in his almost four years on Earth, namely learning how to walk properly, using both arms, and most recently, experiencing divorce from the eye's of a child. He's a beautiful boy and quite charming. But ... he is being exposed to teenagers who clearly don't realize the impact that they are having on him. He's a potty mouth, and has initiated our son into the club.
We've worked very hard with our son. People - not just family - but friends, even strangers in restaurants, comment regularly on his great manners, his excellent communication skills. He is very loving, eats with his mouth closed (a great quality for any toddler), gives hugs to anyone who will stand still long enough, and has a very adaptable, friendly personality. So it has been upsetting to me to have to deal with this. He doesn't hear any of the words in our house.
I do realize that children will mimic, experiment with things they hear, and repeat any and every thing! I just wonder how to best navigate through this? He loves his friend and does not want to not be able to play with him. We love his friend but know that he's just not the best influence on our son.
A few weeks ago, the teachers attempted to redirect our son - engage him in other play groups, other centers. This worked like a charm for two days (Potty Mouth was out sick). On the day he returned, my son and I were traveling home from school, and were almost railroaded by a bozo in a Mini Cooper (a pseudo car, much like those little yip yip dogs that people carry around in a handbag). My first thought was to show him my birdie finger, but I remained calm, cool, collected. Since my son was in the car with me, I also refrained from the usual $#*&! jerk comment that I make from time to time. My son, on the other hand, cashed in one of Potty Mouth's favorites: "Oh, damn it."
We proceeded to the house very quietly. He knew it was a bad choice - I remained calm, cool, collected.
So ... what do you do in a case like this? We have had the discussion about good choices versus bad choices so often that you can purchase the single in all major musical outlets now - but keep your receipt. It's a broken record. We have told him that potty words are not words that big boys choose. We have even resorted to sending him to the bathroom to clean the potty words off of his mouth (they do this at school with the real hard case, repeat offenders). Maybe we should use soap???? My sisters tell horrible tales of having their mouths washed out with soap. Neither one of them would ever, under any circumstances, purchase Ivory soap today. Not even for critical, medicinal reasons.
I guess I know the answers. Parenthood is full of hard work - on a daily basis. I do realize that we won't resolve the issue overnight, and that we must be diligent about our choices for him - and explain to him why the choices are so important. We need to continue to play the good choices broken record, and encourage him to choose other friends, while still being courteous to Potty Mouth.
Any advice? It's much appreciated. I know this may seem like such a small dilemma in such a weary, scary world. But I would love to hear some pointers on how to help our son make better friend choices and word choices.

It's late in the Looneybin. Our eleven year-old cat is running around like a pin ball in a machine. A little sailor-mouth kersmidge is asleep in his big boy bed. Probably dreaming of skeletons and Spiderman. Probably calling them booty butt (another Potty Mouth signature).

Garlic & Herb Tomatoes

This is one of the best recipes I have ever come upon - I have been wanting share it with everyone! I debuted my first batch on Easter Sunday. It was an instant hit. Hope you will enjoy. Hope it's ok to publish this ... I don't think that Barefoot will mind.

Garlic & Herb Tomatoes
(from Barefoot Contessa at Home by Ina Garten)

3 TBSP good olive oil
2 TBSP minced garlic (2 cloves)
2 pints cherry tomatoes or grape tomatoes
2 TBSP each: chopped fresh basil and chopped fresh parsley
2 tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a saute pan that is large enough to hold all tomatoes in one layer. Add garlic to the oil and cook over medium heat for about 30 seconds. Add tomatoes and rest of ingredients - cook for 5 to 7 minutes, tossing occasionally, until tomatoes begin to lose their firm round shape. You may garnish with additional basil and parsley before serving.

Looney Tips:
*leftovers are delicious just scooped into a bowl and garnished with mozzerella cheese. I had this for lunch twice the week after Easter.
*you can also chop up leftovers and add to a pizza - simply YUMMY!
*I have done this recipe using fresh herbs as well as bottled herbs: opt for fresh if you have the chop time.
*would be a great as a pick up at a party - just skewer 2-3 on toothpicks!

Enjoy!

Globby Goo

The weather outside is anything but frightful! The sun is brightly shining. There is a wonderful, cool breeze in the air. It's springtime and just beautiful outside.

We have been very busy here at LooneyBin Central. Each day brings exciting gifts, like the wet kiss that I received on my nose this morning (what a way to wake up). That kiss was followed by placement of a Spiderman sticker on my right earlobe: Look, Mommy - an earring. Exciting gifts ... like say, the sticky, globby goo that I just discovered in my purse as I reached in for my keys. This glob is unidentifiable, which in itself is cause for alarm.

See ... my son attends a school that while very clean, organized, and well-managed, is not without germs ---- lots of germs. It's just life, right? Seems like every time we arrive to collect him as well as all of his belongings (nap pad, blanket, backpack) that he insists on taking home on a daily basis and not leaving in the nicely decorated cubby that has been provided for them - there's a new sign on the front door:

"We have a case of RSV"
"We have discovered a case of the flu"
"We have two cases of walking pneumonia"
"Please remember that it's flu and cold season" (I ask you - does this season ever end at a school or daycare????)
"No crocs allowed - shoes must be closed toe"

Being the mild germophobe that I am, it's always a little concerning for me (where are my chocolate chips at a time like this?). I have been known to seek out the Director and ask, in a very worried/don't really want to know the answer but need to find out voice, "Is it in my son's room?" Most of the time, the details of the posted sign do not pertain to his room.

Just last week, I had a lunch meeting with someone who happens to know one of my dearest friends. He told me that her child had lice. I shuttered at the thought. What a nightmare! Germs everywhere - bugs in her precious head - and even moreover ... would her classmates tease her? I was somewhat relieved to find out that she is one of about ... half of the class... who have been affected, and the children took it all in stride. Thank goodness. I won't stand for her being ridiculed. Afterall, kids can be so cruel.

So - it should come as no surprise to you that with my luck, just such a sign would be posted at the front door of our school - and it was. Just two days later. This time, the details were in all caps:

"WE HAVE SEVERAL REPORTED CASES OF HEAD LICE AND ARE EVALUATING EACH AND EVERY ROOM TO ENSURE THAT THIS DOES NOT BECOME WIDESPREAD THROUGHOUT THE CENTER. PLEASE, DO NOT PANIC. HEAD LICE IS TREATABLE".

Treatable, yes. A pain in the *#$@@*%$ - totally. Luckily, the reported cases are not in my son's room. But ... it stills makes me feel as if my scalp is itchy. And, I feel for the parents who will spend the next 48 hours scrubbing furniture, counters, chairs - washing linens - applying that dreadful lice shampoo.

Being a parent is so awesome, isn't it? It truly is the best job out there. It's full of ups and downs, curves, roadbumps, proud moments and goobly globs of goo. I am just thankful that the goo is in my purse and not on my son's head!

So as I work to pry the goo from the Turbo Tax printout that I will need for litterbox paper, I count my lucky stars. It's a good life. I have the best husband ever, an adorably looney little kersmidge who shares his prized stickers with me ... and a lifetime supply of antibacterial hand soap.

Turbo Tax ...

I don't even have the words. I just don't.

Goodbye, Mr. Chip!

There comes a time in every overworked, undermassaged, round around the edges super soccer mom's life when, standing in front of your cluttered bathroom sink, you manage to wipe just enough leftover mascara off of your face so that you can see yourself in the mirror.

OUCH!!!! What happened here? Who shimmied into this looneybin and injected all of this fat onto my thighs? How did I get from the slim fit jeans to those relaxed fit ones? What is this mass beneath my chin? My first chin?

It's no secret. I recently turned the big FOUR-O! And yes, I am still accepting calls from well-wishers, as well as: spa certificates, cards, movie passes, celebratory lunches, cookbooks, upgrades to my ADT system so as to keep all felons and criminal mice at bay. And not to be cliche, as if it's New Year's and time for that string of resolutions that just won't see Groundhog Day .... but - it's a milestone in my life and I have been taking stock of things. I have resolved to do/try/see/experience forty things that I have not done before (or haven't done well ... or in while). Create a blog: check! Try yoga: check! (Painful). One biggy is to get back into shape -- longterm, healthy shape. And in order to do this successfully, I recently came to the realization that I would have to purge, big time purge - painful, separation anxiety purge in several areas of my life, namely the food area.

FOOD PURGE: Have you ever seen the movie "The Mirror Has Two Faces?" Barbra Streisand's character is a habitual snacker, the type who hides treats all over her house so that she can easily grab something when she needs a fix. Now I am not this bad. However, I have been known to use all but a small handful of chocolate chips for a cookie recipe ... then place the others a a safe place in the event that I need some chocolate for coping or medicinal reasons. Additionally, I am not above buying a box of Cheese Nips, letting my son have some for snack, and then taking them to my bedroom while I am 'cleaning' ............... ??????? Other ole' reliables include the occasional handful of walnuts -- not bad untiil you add the can of coke that is used to help get them down.

What a huge task ahead of me! And so it began. I set the purge into motion. In the pantry, I quickly discovered not one, not two, but three boxes of very stale honey grahams. I have long thought that by buying these somewhat tasty but not really fun crackers that I would take care of two needs at once (sweet and crunchy) without buying what I really wanted ... a lifetime supply of peanut M&M's.

So out they went. Too stale even for the migrating geese in our back yard, who my father-in-law says don't really migrate anymore ............ ???????

Next, I found my chocolate chip stash. Seven bags of small handfuls, enough to make a cookie recipe and start a new stash! I put them aside, all the while hearing my husband's voice, "When is the best time to do something?"

I put pantry purge on hold so I could start on the fridge. This would be easy. We had just been through a weekend where our power was off for almost twelve hours, so the fridge and freezer were pretty much empty. But in one corner, tucked away and almost screaming "DON'T WASTE ME" was a Tupperware container of homemade caramel frosting. Why this was saved and not placed on the cake with the rest of the recipe is beyond me. After trying to rationalize the nutritional and medicinal value of this sugary triumph, I tossed the contents into the trash, then ran some soapy water over the container, just after I scraped the sides.

During the fridge purge, a great friend called to wish me Happy Birthday (wonder if the spa certif will be mailed or delivered at a congrats lunch???) and asked what I was up to. I told her. Being the thin, sickening waif of a human being that she is, she immediately began to offer up tips on healthy eating, healthy snacks, healthy everything (excuse me, but I would never, ever solicit weight or nutritonal advice from someone whose photo appears next to the word twiggy in the dictionary!). Now I would have to drink one of the last of the cokes, because she had sent me to the edge, and it would either be a coke sans the walnuts or an afternoon visit to our local Mexican restaurant for some chips, salsa, guacamole AND coke!

CABLE PURGE: I had been in front of the TV entirely too much lately. It was time to really purge here. So I collected all of the remotes, wiped off the cheese nip residue and returned them to the entertainment center. Done, right?

PURGE, ETC: Not really a purge, but a call to action. I resumed workouts at Hourglass, which by the way, is an awesome place to work out. I also initiated afternoon walks with my son. This made him happy and has made me a little happier when I look in the mirror.

Two days after the initial purge, I returned to the pantry to get something for dinner. There they were ... my bags of chips, all lined up, behaving so quietly. With determination on my part that amazed even me, I picked up each bag and tossed them, one by one, into the trash. I felt as if I was ditching an old friend ...just tossing him by the way side. But, when I thought about my way (big) side, I knew this was the right decision. Ah, Mr. Chip, my dear ole' buddy .........

Later that evening, my stick figure friend called to set up a celebratory lunch, not to recognize the milestone birthday, but to honor my decision to reintroduce healthy eating and exercise to my life. She was beside herself. Knowing just how much I love Mexican food, she had done some recipe research online and had discovered a recipe for something that she said would be the end-all, be-all ... the snack saviour for me. The one thing that I would go to almost daily when I needed a quick fix.

So ... I said Goodbye to Mr. Chip, and ola to Senor Jalapeno Rice Cake.

There's a mouse in my looneybin!

Do you ever wonder if you are crazy ... just bonkers ... and everyone has known it for eons? Do you ever experience something, that once over, forces you to see yourself from OUTSIDE of yourself - and when this happens ....... you are frightened .... of YOURSELF?

I am known in certain circles as someone who hears a boogey man outside of the house. There has been occasion when I have been dead certain that someone was in our attic, moving around up there, just waiting to jump through the crawl space ... POUNCE on us like a jungle cat! Tear us to smithereens, and then make off with all of our antiques ... you know, the VHS tapes, our typewriter, the touch tone phone with the big numbers.

Very recently, I was awakened out of a not so deep sleep to realize that just such an intruder was amongst us. I heard what could have very well been the sound of someone tapping away at a door lock - lightly so as not to be discovered. The noise seemed to have waited to grow louder until I was fully awake and wide-eyed. I looked to my right for support. My knight in shining armor, the one who will brave death to save me!! That jungle cat would have had a pleasant feast ... of course because of my knight's striking, handsome, svelt bod - but also because he was comatose..... dead to the world.... in a trance. The symphony that he snored was complete with percussion, strings and a lot of congestion. A musical snack!

No help there. I would have to brave this habitual felon all by myself. I braced myself for confrontation. I tiptoed with the grace of a ballerina (or a bull in a china shop?) down the hall. The noise was louder than ever! Blip, blip! Blip, Blip. Blup, bluppy, blup. As I approached the kitchen, I just knew that I would soon come face to face with the lurking shadow of the would-be intruder. Had he - or she - or they!!! had time to compromise the lock?

Blip, blip!!!!!!! Bup bup bup!!!!! Louder and louder.

No shadow at the door, thank goodness. But that noise - how alarming at four in the morning. As I approached the kitchen sink (to find a suitable weapon - maybe my prized wooden spoon?) I came face to face with the source of the noise, as well as the intruder: a MOUSE! The blip blip noise was the mouse, and it was lodged in my kitchen sink - the drain to be exact.

Now my heartbeat far outweighed the blip, bup, blup fanfare. I had a rodent in the house. A mouse had dared to come into my house, where sleeping babies (a toddler and the comatose knight) slept. What if, much like in Lady and the Tramp, this yellow-eyed, rabid varment was out for blood, toddler blood? What if he was headed for our pantry? Or one of the antiques? Hey, you smirk, but I have seen mice carry huge items on their backs ... just pop in Cinderella or Ratatouille one day!

I did attemp to awaken my knight so that he could sing a gallant rescue song and save the day, but he just mumbled something about the prime rate and resumed a chorus of "I'll Stop the world and snore for you".

I looked under the sink, wooden spoon in hand. I tapped the drain several times. The noise stopped. Maybe the noise I was making had scared him away? Maybe the banging scared him so bad that he suffered a fatal heart attack, in the pipe, and was now deceased? That would be great, because my son would insist on having a funeral for him. I would have to plug my nose with cotton balls due to the foul stinch that would ensue. When your family calls you Nostrildamus, predictor of scents both strange and familiar, you take the necessary precautions.

When I resumed a standing position, I noticed standing water in the sink, just enough drops to fill up that open slit - you know, that part that you put the little colander-like plug thing in so that you can, say fill up your sink with water and ....... mop? I hear that some people actually have time for such a domestic activity.

If there was a mouse in my sink drain, he was being tapped with drops of water every three seconds. And, he was also brain-damaged as a result of all of the tapping that I had done on the metal pipe with my Pampered Chef bamboo wooden spoon (great investment!).

As I took a step backward, cashed in a little bit of the logic that chics are allowed (you know we are the feelings types, right?), I realized that I had walked the looney plank and had jumped right into crazy! What kind of fool would travel down a road filled with malicious predators intent on robbing us blind, to another road with a Lady and the Tramp rabid rodent?

I returned to the bedroom, climbed back into bed next to my knight, my sweet prince, and vowed never to tell anyone ... anyone ... the story.

Just as I was dozing back into a not so deep sleep, Sir James turned to me and asked if I had caught the mouse. He said he would have been glad to help me.

Chivalry, even in the looneybin, is not dead.