Last week I came to the grips with the fact that I could no longer put off doing my Fifth Least Favorite Thing To Do With My Kids.

Shoe shopping with my two youngest.

I decided to take a couple of members of my posse as back-ups since I wanted to be smart this time. [Actually, I wanted to be DRUNK this time, but I was the one driving.] Lucky for me, my mother and my aunt went kicking and screaming along with us to help.

The five of us packed into the Expedition and headed out for our trip to the mall, Mom and I in the front, Emma, Katelynn, and Aunt Patty in the second row.

Emma and Katelynn were being uncharacteristically quiet little angels during the car trip, thanks to the Tootsie Pops Aunt Patty had bought them as a bribe. God love that woman.

We were pretty close to being there when Aunt Patty broke the silence.

“Emma, do you know what seeing you eating a sucker reminds me of?”

“Hmm-umm.” Emma replied, without relaxing the liplock she had on the candy.

“It reminds me of the spring when you were almost two-years-old and your Momma, your Mimi, Jake and Jenna, and you and I all drove to California to visit Kasey and go to Disneyland and you were eating a sucker and Jenna teased you about something and made you so angry that you smacked her with your sucker.”

Emma, who LOVES to hear stories about herself, hung on Aunt Patty’s every word.

She continued, “And your Momma got very angry at you and she scolded you and took away your sucker so you started throwing a huge tantrum and screaming and crying at the TOPOFYOURLUNGS. And I was trying to get you to stop, so I said, ‘Emma, do you want a drink of juice?’ and you yelled, ‘NNNN-OO!’ so I said, ‘Do you want to play a game?’ and you yelled, ‘NNNN-OO!’ so I said, ‘Do you want a piece of gum?’ and you yelled “NNNN-OO!’ so then I said ‘DO YOU WANT TO HIT JENNA WITH YOUR SUCKER AGAIN?’ And you yelled ‘YYYYEEESSS!’”

From the front seat, Mom and I laughed since enough time has now passed that the story is funny. Because at the time, it. was. NOT. funny. (To me at least. Everyone else thought it was pretty funny at the time too.)

Aunt Patty sighed contentedly, having finished her little anecdote, “So that’s what it reminds me of.”

Emma, unfazed, took the sucker out of her mouth for the first time during the car ride.

“Oh,” she said flatly, “It reminds me of dead people.”

And, then as now, I just have no response for that. But on a completely unrelated note, I think I’ll stop letting her watch Ghost Whisperer with me.

It’s a little past noon on Sunday, people. Here’s the count:

Pee output not made by me but cleaned up by me: 2

Both by Katelynn. Both on my two-year-old deep pile winter-wheat-colored frieze carpet. And Naked Potty Training HAD been going so. well.

Poop output not made by me but cleaned up by me: 3*

Two (yes two) by Katelynn, in her diaper, both within thirty minutes of the discontinuation of Naked Potty Training for today. One by Maddie, our grouchy long-haired Chihuahua, on my two-year-old deep pile winter- . . . oh, hell, you get the picture.

Hope you’re having an outstanding Sunday as well. But for good reasons.

Later.

* edited to add — Up the poop count to FOUR y’all. Emma didn’t feel like wiping her own butt today and besides God is punishing me for not going to church.

As promised, I gave it two minutes a lot of thought, and came up with a list of nine weird things about myself. And despite the fact that coming up with NINE WEIRD THINGS about myself alone was enough to wear me out, I even expressed number one in a drawing. You’re welcome.

9. I eat with my left hand, but do everything else with my right.

8. As a [stupid] fourth-grader, I rolled a piece of Scotch tape backwards, put it on the end of a pencil, and stuck it in my left ear because I have no idea why. When I couldn’t get it out, I told my teacher I had an earache so she would let me go to the school nurse. The [blind] school nurse looked in my ear, but saw nothing unusual, so life went on. A year or so later, my [very observant] pediatrician noticed some type of foreign object lodged in my left ear and irrigated the hell out of it until — big surprise coming in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . — a rolled piece of Scotch tape fell out. The reward for my stupidity would be a permanent low-frequency hearing loss and tinnitus in my left ear. In other words, I can’t hear a damn thing in my left ear except the constant ringing in my left ear. [And, no, this experience was not what inspired me to become a nurse.]

7. I rarely brush my teeth before bed (I know, I know, ewwwww. Sue me.) but I haven’t had a cavity in over twenty years.

6. When my husband buys me a gift or plans something special for me, I whine to him that “I hate surprises” until he gives in and spills the beans. The truth? I love surprises. I’m just a big. fat. impatient. whiny. baby.

5. My birth name is Jennifer, but I’ve always been called Jenny. I was taught to spell it with a “y” and did so until the 8th grade when I decided that everyone named Jenny spelled it with a “y” and that [being thirteen years old] I wanted to be different. So I started spelling it with an “i”. Different, huh? Shut up. So, for twenty years, I was Jenni. Some time after my 35th birthday, I realized (not for the first time) what a stupid teenager I was and went back to Jenny. With a “y”. When I remember to spell it that way. Which is hardly ever. Oh well.

4. In my Firefox Bookmarks, I have arranged my blogroll in alphabetical order. Not necessarily weird but definitely anal. But when I read the blogs on my blogroll in my Firefox Bookmarks, I do it in reverse alphabetical order. Maybe more OCD than weird. I tried.

3. Every night at bedtime, Rob asks me which pillow I want. Fluffy or flat. I always pick the fluffy one. Because it’s fluffy. And, ahhhh. Then, every night at about 3am, I wake Rob up and ask him to switch pillows with me. Because I have absolutely no idea why.

2. You know how when you’re in the shower washing and rinsing your hair you get a lot of stray hairs that have fallen out all over your hands? And so you pick the hairs off your hands and put them on the shower wall? And after the shower, you get some toilet paper and wipe the hairs into it and toss it into the toilet and don’t flush because gawd why waste five gallons of water for some hair and two squares of toilet paper? And the next time your husband goes to pee he yells at you through the house like a lunatic about “JEE-ZUS would you PLEASE flush your damn hairball next time? Because GAG.”?

Me neither.

1. The number one weird thing about me is . . . drumroll please . . . my big toes. My big toes have what can only be referred to as “extra skin” on the inside. Which makes them look . . . um . . . porky. But it’s not my fault and I can prove it. My father and his mother (my grandmother) both have the same exact “extra skin” on their toes. I would have taken pictures, but I’m overdue for a pedicure. So, instead, I traced my toe and created some VERY PROFESSIONAL AND ANATOMICALLY CORRECT illustrations for you. Have a looksee:

My Right Big Toe, Today, Pre-Op

Extra Skin that Needs to Be Surgically Removed

My Right Big Toe, Post-Op

Thanks a million for the tag Kristie.

I hope you feel normal now.

I’m making the bed. Rob enters our room in a huff.

Him: “Gawd. She is so bossy.”

Me: “Which one?”

Him: “The little one.”

Me: “What did she do now?”

Him: “Well, she was looking for her Pink Silky and she asked me where it was. I told her it was in her crib and said ‘Go upstairs and get it.’”

Me: “Yeah.”

Him: And she said “No, you go get it.”

Me: “Um-hmm. So, what did you do?”

Him: “I went and got it.”

Me: *raise eyebrows* *stare* *blink* *blink*

But, in all honestly, it was probably for the best. Otherwise, things likely would have escalated into screaming and a tantrum.

And I just can’t take it when Rob cries.