What a display of athletic prowess. It’s like watching a beauty contest between Sam Cassell and Jeff Van Gundy.

Tonight Ellis and I had a holiday dance party. It was pretty much the best night for which I could ever ask. Cee-Lo’s Christmas album, our dancing socks wearing thinner with each step on the creaky floors and someone as clumsy as yours truly thrashing about the living room with me! Plus, I only had to offer him some milk in exchange for our powerdance session; I have a feeling it will take a lot more than that to get him to get down with his old lady mom when he is a super-hip jerkface teen. Still, I am going to miss him in 16 years. I think.

Source: Postecrets

I’m a good driver. Red means stop. Green means go. And yellow is the other one.

Well well well, I hate to say I told you so, but it looks like the rest of the Interwebs appreciates both Overboard and Labyrinth based on searches that landed those poor souls onto my blog page. A sampling? Don’t mind if I do –

– Jeffrey Wiseman (lots of these. Lots and Lots of these.)
– Jeffrey Wiseman Overboard
– Jeffrey Wiseman actor
– Carol Williard (aka Mrs. Rose Budd the intrepid news reporter)
– Turkey Wattle – this search is unintentional but brings people to a picture of Mona working on her gullet (is gullet a word? If not, I call it). You will also see this picture if you google “what happens when you take off neck rings” and search through God knows how many pages to find this piddly blog.)

– Jamie Wild (again, lots of these)
– Jamie Wild from Overboard
– Jarod Rushton Overboard
– Garbage lady from Laybrinth
– Rubbish lady from Laybrinth (clearly these users are NOT american but know a good USA flick when they see it).
YOU ARE WELCOME! See, don’t you feel good knowing that you have received a proper primer on the current status of all of the Overboard actors? I just might have saved your life by providing such a crucial public service.

Other random keyword activity includes:
– sunglasses that go over your glasses (surprisingly popular)
– adventurexxx (yikes, pervymagoos!) Nice thing about this search is it brings the porn seeker to an entry that includes me complaining about: traffic, the high cost of daycare, sick kids and a trip to see family. Talk about MEOW-worthy viewing.
– sametova revola
– Nebraska Jones Chicago

In other news I lost the keys to our new hours three times. Well, I lost them twice and then threw them away once. Since I can’t figure out how to lock the front door it doesn’t really matter if we have keys, but Mr. Swirley seems to think it is a problem that needs to be addressed. This does not mean we hide keys everywhere (my idea, clearly), but instead invest in a keypad entry. Fine, whatever. I still like those fake rocks that everyone knows house keys.

If I go to Home Depot one more time I am going to spray concentrated Green Clean in my eyeballs. Speaking of cleaning, I finally broke down and scheduled someone to come in and clean our condo because I am pretty sure my fingers will fall off if I clean one more toilet (long story but our house wasn’t cleaned when we signed and I couldn’t get anyone in to clean it before we moved in…so we cleaned and I have pretty much hated my life ever since.) Anyway, it took her seven hours. SEVEN! Can you believe CPS didn’t come take my kid away because we were clearly living in squalor. I mean, the place was empty and she spent an entire work day there cleaning; I can’t even spend an entire work day working! Good thing three dudes are moving in who probably could give an f about whether or not the floor area behind the dryer is clean but I am happy about it.

I also order a TV from Amazon based solely on reviews and four pictures – I didn’t even see it in action. I mean, it’s a TV…do I really care if I can see someone’s pores? Notsomuch. After ordering said TV (and having to reprocess the order 400 times because I am an idiot), I realized I accidentally had it sent to our old address. Since we were down to one set of keys (which were in my possession), I lightly suggested to Mr. Swirley that we meet up at his old train stop and stalk the UPS guy. The three of us drove around the neighborhood (side note: Mr. Swirley has become quite the backseat driver as of late…) searching for driver Billy and eventually ended up at the Kam family digs in our “old” Bosworth building. It’s basically impossible for us to actually leave. And yes, the TV eventually showed up.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I will have a lot to report. Or a little, I don’t really know. My plan is to hand my kid off to his cousins upon arrival, leave him there Saturday and avoid picking him until as late as possible on Sunday. I guess that means I am thankful for family who will endure us (help us move/unpack/take our kid) and that I can endure family (namely Ho-Ho). I am also thankful for grass. It’s amazing how much our little patch of grass can instantly change my outlook. I am not thankful for the ceiling fans in every room of the new house – they just really piss me off. Or the challenges posed by repairing plaster walls. But, at least we have walls to repair. Taking everything into account, we are incredibly fortunate people with good friends and family. Still, no one really likes ceiling fans, do they?

Happy Turkey Day!

I am also thankful for the Interwebs and how I can “borrow” and share fun stuff like this,

I need help reacting to something.

I just *accidentally locked Mr. Swirley in EK’s room (with EK). You gotta break a few eggs…

We are currently residing in four square feet of living space. You think I am kidding. I am not. NOT at all. To add twelve pounds of salt to the wound, our closing date was delayed from today to October 31st to November never .Well, not never, but the mortgage company threatened to pull the loan because they assumed that a credit for sealing the basement meant that we were buying sieve. Obviously. I got this news while waiting at the DMV for a duplicate ID, which, by the way doesn’t require a new pictures so I flat-ironed my hair for nothing. Honestly, that was the most irritating part of the day. That sh!t singes the crap out of what’s left of my brown hair.

This morning Ellis woke up at 5AM and did his best impression of a chicken with his head cut off. It was awesome except for the the fact that it wasn’t. Then I pushed a chair, a box and filing cabinet up against the door (taking up three out of our four square feet) and hunkered down for a terrible scream storm. Three hours later we woke up with 15 minutes to spare before a 9 AM meeting at our soon to be new house. We made it, bitches. Ellis might have been wearing raspberry-stained pajamas sans shoes, but we made it to our on time and for that I am very proud. However, I am not proud of our unbrushed teeth, greasy hair (again, both of us), the insane look in my eyes as a I barreled down I-90, and chaos created by EK’s incessant questioning while the perma-seal guy earnestly tried to explain the process of doing something or other to the basement.

I wish I could do a voice over for a cartoon. I am not saying I have a good voice for such a venture, but it would be fun to wear those headphones in a sound booth.

You know what I don’t get? He never wears a shirt; he never wears shoes: Why hasn’t he died from lack of service?

Today our friends the GM and Johnny Mic moved into their new digs. It was pretty much the best move ever because:
1. Little Miss Krissa hung out with EK all day with her daughter and his future wife, Ingyboo.

Apparently he shared and played nicely with Ingyboo. And he took a nap without much prompting. Why does he hate me so much?

2. The GM aka your friendly librarian, can pack like no other. You know I didn’t even try to unpack her boxes of books.

3. This happened. And no, it isn’t ironic since he wore pretty much the SAME outfit in 1999 during our move from the East Gilman street mansion apartment to the TINIEST apartment on the face of the earth (which stayed in the FWC family for years).

4. Their new house is dope. D.O.P.E.and they have a little room under the stairs (Harry’s place) for us to hide our kids.

Following the move I showed our place to another group of potential renters and managed to make a fool of myself yet again. Imagine your mom, add a twist of intense spazziness and maybe some meth…and you get me…the newest landlord on the block. People are clamoring to sign on with us.

I’ve loved you since there was only one Soviet Union and one Damon Wayans.

2010 – Year 1 of Bucky at Will’s Northwoods Inn
2011 – In shock of Bucky’s awesomeness
2012 – Solo mission to see Bucky. EK told me, “Mama, I love Bucky.”

Since EK is an August baby, it seems obvious that the best way to document his annual growth is via Bucky’s late summer annual trip to Chicago. My hope, of course, is that one day he and Bucky will be one in the same…at least for one season.

You know what Mr. Bag? I will have a nice day. I’m gonna hang you in my kitchen and fill you with other bags. You will eat your family.

Ellis is currently taking a nap. I should be happy because:
1. He is actually sleeping. In his bed.
2. I have been mad at him all morning for getting up so early.
    2. a. This is pretty unfair of me because he is a child AND because I went to bed at 6:30 PM last night. No lie.
But I am unhappy because he will be up in 15 minutes (11:45 AM) and it’s 12,000 degrees outside so we are stuck messing around inside all day. We have six hours to fill until Papi comes home and I pretend like he hasn’t worked for 12 hours..and hand off Ellis. Stellar attitude, I know.

Today, we went to a coffeeshop and hung out for an hour. It was awesome. I haven’t visited Filter since Ellis started walking because I was scared he would go on a rampage and break 22 hipsters’ Macs. However, not only is the owner really friendly, but the place cool with kids wreaking havoc. Plus, he and his family are neighbors. So while Ellis bothered a girl studying to be a Physicians Assistant (at one point he had her reading him an Arthur book), we talked about neighborhood shenanigans that I don’t want to repeat here and our upcoming bombass block party.

EK looking like how I feel. And are those eyebrows growing right before our eyeballs?

Guess who is awake. Told you.

p.s. Today I got a new (to me) office chair off the back of a truck. Literally off the back of a pickup truck. For free. My legs are itching a little, but I am trying to ignore the possibility that I might have welcomed someone/thing terrible into my home.

UPDATE: We got out to the pool and ice cream shop today – lost a billion calories walking but it was worth it. Especially because it was the only way I could keep EK in a diaper/pants. In an effort to fulfill every toddler boy cliche,  his two new favorite things are telling me no and stripping down to his birthday suit.

I got my first job when I was 9. Worked at a sheet metal factory. In two weeks, I was running the floor. Child labor laws are ruining this country.

– Sometimes I like to think that the cars passing our house on I90 sound like waves crashing on a beach. They don’t. They sound like cars driving on a highway.

– I know this is a double standard, but second-hand boys’ bathing suits are fine and dandy while girls’ gross me out. I draw the line at underroos.

– Yesterday a city worker sat in front of my house for two hours and spat ten thousand sunflower seeds on the ground. He then exited his car and stood on the corner for another hour spitting more sunflower seeds into the sewer that his coworkers were cleaning. Then he left. Sometimes I feel really good about how efficiently our tax dollars are spent in the City of Broad Shoulders.

– Ho-Ho called to tell me she wants to change her Medicare insurance provider (Humana) and went on and on about how they won’t cover her drugs. Then she told me the prescriptions she was complaining about being unavailable would be ready for pick-up tonight.

– Last week she told me that someone stole her over the counter medications. I opened the jar and found that the remaining pills were covered in coffee grinds. When I offered the possibility that perhaps she dumped the pills into the garbage and didn’t fish them all out she shook her head as if that was an idiotic suggestion. Then she told me the meds were still usable – “just have to wash them off”. That makes sense.

Veep is an amazing show. You should poach cable from your uncle and watch it online.

…Fool me 40,000 times, shame on my parents for bringing me into this world.

Sit back and close your eyes. Relax. Imagine sitting outside with your dog, or your kid and drinking a nice cup of coffee in your pajamas – him in his diaper (not the dog. Though I have seen some dogs in diapers) playing with his empty water table. The front door closes and BAM, you are locked out, again. No, it can’t be. You aren’t that stupid. But yes! Yes you are. You continue to drink your coffee, sure that your neighbors’ door is open so you can retrieve your set of keys, or your other neighbors are home. Your kid is starting to get a little restless; he is, after all, clad only in a diaper, barefoot like little Jayden Spears. So you scale your six foot high wrought iron fence, leaving your child to fend for himself inside his little porch prison while a neighbor looks on. “Buzzzzzzzzzzzz” – but your neighbor doesn’t answer. OH RIGHT! They left for California at 4AM today. Well, your other neighbor’s door is likely open. You get in to the shared hallway, hopeful that this situation will be quickly remedied, but no. Fools! Locking their door while they are away? Absurd. And, on a side note, you aren’t wearing a bra, are so greasy your hair appears to be wet, and your baby soiled his one and only diaper. Lovely.

What next? Sit outside all day in the sun with a naked kid and no water? Although an option, perhaps not the best. How about scream another neighbor’s name as he gets into his car and ask him to call someone with a ladder. A few minutes later, our hero emerges with a 20 foot ladder and like the three bears, the third window was just right (open. Which is so safe since you live in a city). Soon, this wonderful man has jimmied the window open and all 1XX lbs of him are shimmying through a very narrow space into your bedroom. You still are not wearing a bra but on the upside, you have yet to impale yourself while repeatedly climbing over the fence and even managed (with the help of a stranger) to lift your child over said fence.

So now you are back in the house, ashamed of your incredible idiocy and grateful to have such good neighbors. Then your phone rings four times in a row (on your day off), each time your boss wants to discuss something in the sort of distant future (far enough away to wait until next week to chat) while your kid manages to pour peach yogurt all over himself, the floor and then front porch.

Time for music class! Your get the car with Scabby McScabberson and are on your way. After stalking someone in order to get a parking spot, you successfully make it to class on time. You then must tell everyone that your kid had hand foot and mouth, but is no longer contagious…he is just covered in scabs. They all  laugh uncomfortably and say “it’s ok” but you catch them staring at his legs the entire class as he sneezes and coughs on their children.

The day is only half over – next stop is an Oak Park psychiatrist’s office with Ho-Ho.

What is wrong with me?

If I keep my body moving, and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.

Look, I am not going to beat around the bush. I am pissed. Not pissed like “I locked myself out the house then later realized our bedroom window was open” pissed. No, I am seriously pissed. We just received our appraisal and it came in below the amount required to refi w/o PMI. What does that mean? It means I found another way to waste $250 this week…and you thought I couldn’t go three for three. Fools! You might also think I am above drinking a bottle, er, I mean glass of wine out of a coffee cup. Well, it hasn’t gotten that bad but I certainly considered it. It’s better than straight from the bottle.

In other money-spending news, we bought ourselves a little security camera for the front porch. It cost about as much as the grill, but apparently it’s the the principle of the matter. Last week I found that we didn’t calibrate it quite correctly when I adeptly (yea, I said it) climbed over the fence and tried to break in. Not one picture was taken! But I did find this one and wrongly assumed Mr. Swirley was checking out a fine little Bosworth boo at 6 AM. Instead he was examining a stain on the sidewalk caused by our recently planted (badass) planters.

Chocolate Chex are the most amazing treats ever. Three of the fourteen boxes of cereal purchased yesterday are of the Chocolaty Chex variety. Go buy some and tell me I am wrong.

When you ask EK his name he says “Ellis Svingen” which is probably how those giant Norwegians pronounce it. Always trying to show us up, that kid. Well, I know my name too, buddy. So there.

I don’t know who possessed EK when he was telling us his name, but I am certainly happy he snapped out of it when we got to the animals.

I downloaded some new apps…can you tell?

Snack time with mom aka popcorn in a sieve.

The ole’ pants off game. Players: 1.

Yikes.

And am hellbent on taking the worst pictures ever whenever I am near EK. Nostrils flared? Check. Weird grimace? Oh yea. Eyebrows raised? Why not? Errant wiry, grey hair? Look for yourself

Look over there Ellis! See the mom and son taking a perfectly nice picture together?

And then my heart fell out when he almost busted through the chicken wire and plunged ten million feet below into the monkey pit. They were totally monkeys, so don’t give me that crap about confusing apes for monkeys and calling me ignorant.

Chicken wire? What? Thanks Brookfield Zoo. All I could think about (aside from Ellis’ possible perilous plunge and my love for alliteration) was our faces on the 6 o’clock news and the newscasters shaking their head at our level of stone-cold irresponsibility. It’s chicken wire – completed inadequate to hold anyone over the age of fetus! This is a very long caption. Perhaps it doesn’t really count as a caption but I am not going to cut and paste it into text.

As a complete non sequitur, once I was the handler for an Iraqi delegation and they asked me, at nine o’clock in the evening, to get their clothing dry cleaned…due nine hours later. I took it home, washed, dried (in pay machines no less!) and ironed their duds, put each article of clothing on a hanger, placed them into used dry cleaning bags and delivered everything to their hotel in the morning.

I am relieved to know that chins, unlike noses and ears, don’t continue to grow throughout your lifetime. That would be terrible.