Random + Dreams

Oh let's chat about this week:
*What happened to my throat? Why is it scratchy? And how come I can't still sound female-ish? I sound like a man.
*The iphone. I don't think it's made to be carried in the bra while running. Sweat may or may not be considered "water damage." Gross.
*Can bed-time be at 5:00? I don't care about for the kids, I'm talking about for me.
*I signed up for a half-marathon. I've never signed up for a race this far in advance- it's kinda playing mind games with me.
*PS I'm out of shape. I ran 4 miles, with hills and possibly that's why I was ready for bed at 5:00. And why I sound like a man. 13.1 is a lot more than 4.
*Is Diet Coke necessary at 9 pm? And 9 am? I don't know, I cannot answer that. It's a very personal question.
*Deeter started preschool this week. Loves it. Does add an extra drop-off and pick-up to the mix. Possibly another reason for 5:00 bed-time? Who knows.
*Why do I have a cold sore right on the left crease of the lips? It's making it hard for me to yell at my kids and shovel food in my mouth at the pace I prefer.

Best thing about this week: I made someone's dream come true.

My housekeeper was beaming a giddy smile. "Gabby, Gabby," {yes, she calls me Gabby, the nickname my sister tortured me with for a small period of time. No we weren't little kids- I was 20 and she was 24. Big sisters will always abuse....} "You know how I always tell you my dreams happen in real life?" {she has told me this before- in relation to a MURDER.} "Yes, Virginia, you have told me that. What happened?" Her smile only widened and she said, "I dreamed about pants full of poop." Weird dream if you ask me- and weirder to be so happy about it- and I didn't know what she was talking about. "Oh...did Kaia have a poopy diaper when she woke up?" "No, Gabby, the pants. The pants in the sink." And then it clicked.

I got home from "The Desert" last week, and while unloading the kids, I smelt something rancid. Like equivalent to a ten day old dead mouse festering in the heat. But wet. Yes, it had a wet, fresh smell to it. Deeter never poops while sitting so it couldn't be a dirty diaper. But he had puked mid-sentence three times earlier that morning and that was the only place I could put the missing puzzle piece. He must have done a sneak-attack puke. But nothing was turning up, except the toxin levels.

He made his way inside and so did the smell. It had to have been a d-u-m-p. A quick whiff took away any other possibilities. I have no idea when he managed to do his business without me noticing. I laid him down to change the stench and I'll tell you what, this wasn't even confined to the diaper. He had poops squirting out, lining his pants, slowly fumigating the whole first story of the house. I deal with poop on a daily basis and see no need to be dramatic and tangle gagging into the fiasco. But this time was close. It was nasty. I peeled him naked and threw those doo-doo soiled pants in the laundry room sink, added some "soaking" water and ran searching for fresh air. And that's where they stayed.

Yosh himself is a "soaker", just dishes though. I'm always nagging, "Why are you leaving that dish in the sink?"  "Oh it's soaking." Classic reply. Babe...........a grilled chicken pan doesn't require soaking. Or a cereal bowl. He soaks out of laziness. He loves letting his woman wait on him. Except I'm equally lazy and I don't. Dang it. But anyways, he soaks out of laziness.

I, my friends, soak with a purpose. "Gabby, Deeter's pants were in the sink, just full of poop. And I found them. Just like I dreamed." Those pants that deemed a face of disgust from me, lightened up Virginia's as if it were Christmas morning. I'm in the business of making dreams come true. And that is why I soak.