Does that kid have a boner?

While in the car this weekend, the following conversation took place:

Seth (spotting the stick people family bumper sticker on a minivan ahead of us):  Can we agree to never get those stick people bumper stickers on our car?

Erin:  No, I am not agreeing to that.  I'm not saying we should, but I think they're kinda cute.

Seth (as we are getting closer to the minivan with stick people plastered on the rear window):  What's up with that kid in the middle?  I think he has a boner.

Erin (speeding up to get a better look):  No way.  No way!  That kid totally has a boner!

Seth:  That. Is. Awesome.

Erin:  A boner!

Seth:  (from his new vantage point, now 2 feet from the bumper of the boner car):  Nope, it's tree.  He's doing yoga.

Word to the wise.  Do not make your teenage stick figure bumper sticker boy do yoga.  From afar, it looks like he's pitching a tent.

Boner Boy

If you can't see it, walk across the room, away from your computer, and take another gander...

The Peanut Buttery Knife

I wrote this two years ago, when LL was still a breastfed baby.  I haven't changed a bit.  Neither has Seth...

Photo credit:  Todd Hoort

So last night I was rushing to get LL down for bed as well as finish making dinner, etc.  And I was starving.  So I hurried LL through her night time feed and tried to put her down for bed, but of course that didn't work, so I came out of the nursery, with LL in my arms and said to my husband "OK, well...I need to eat.  I can't feed her and try to get her down until I eat or I'm going to pass out."  He said fine, and we ate a lovely chicken dish that I'd prepared (which was rare...usually Seth cooked).

Which I pretty much just swallowed in 3 seconds, forgetting to enjoy.

So then I say, OK...just take LL and give me a second to clean up the kitchen.  Blah blah blah...we have a discussion about maybe I should have put the baby to bed and let him do the dishes, since he can't feed her, but he can do the dishes.  I agree, maybe that would have been a better idea, but I just wanted the kitchen to be clean (Erin clean, not Seth clean) and it took less than 15 minutes, and I just wanted to be able to wake up and NOT do dishes first thing in the morning.  But I really should have put the baby down first, he was right about that.

So I putzed around some more, cleaned and picked up here and there, and went into my clean kitchen, and he'd already eaten a sandwich and left his peanut-buttery knife all up in the sink.  The clean sink.  That I had just cleaned.  And now there was a dirty and peanut buttery knife in there!!  So I went into the living room and I said, "Honey...guess what?" And he knows me and he can see the big daggers shooting out of my eyeballs (and I said nothing else) and he said "I know, I left a knife in the sink" (yeah, he knows me pretty well) and then I said "Dishwasher, Seth.  It better be in the dishwasher" (God, it must really suck to live with me sometimes). 

And later, I went to get a piece of string cheese out of the refrigerator and guess what I found???  That peanut buttery knife.  In the refrigerator!  NOT the dishwasher.  Doesn't it take EXACTLY the same amount of time and effort to open and place a knife in the refrigerator as it does the dishwasher??? 

Then I found it back in the sink.  Still not the dishwasher.

The Marriott Travel Size Heist.

Word to the wise:  Bed, Bath and Beyond has a killer selection!

I am an aficionado of all things trial size.  I love trial size.  I love teeny shampoo and conditioner bottles, and little face washes, and mini body washes.  I love tiny mouth washes and hand sanitizers, and toothpaste tubes so small they can fit in your pocket.  Travel size toiletries make me happy in the same way that watching Roseanne while wearing Smartwool's makes me happy.  Pure.  Joy.

My trial size fascination began long ago when, as a kid, our family stayed in a hotel, a rare event.  I remember the desperate need to be the first of the five of us to get in the bathroom, so I could see the little V-shape the maid made with the toilet paper roll, and be the first to rip the wrapper off the one ounce soap bar.  I loved the way the little lotion and shampoo bottles were neatly lined up on the long vanity counter, sometimes on a plastic tray, like little soldiers waiting for action.

Only, here's the even more weird thing.  I really didn't want anyone to actually use these products.  I wanted to just stuff them in my backpack, and save them for a special time.  I was thrilled when, upon leaving, I was the only one that noticed (or cared) that there was a drop of shampoo left in the bottle in the shower, and I'd greedily snatch it and hide it amongst my belongings.

My treasure trove of embarrassment.

You know how when you were a kid, and you got a little pocket change, you could hardly wait to mount your bike and go rip roaring toward the candy store?  And you'd study the gum and the candy rings and the sweet-tart necklaces and the Laughy Taffy and the Willy Wonka Fun Dip, your mouth watering, and you'd figure out just exactly how much you could get with your $0.75? 

Now swap high end, as in Paul Mitchell, travel size products for the candy in the above example, and trade tingling hair follicles in lieu of mouth watering, and sub-in $110.00 for $0.75 , and you've got me, in a Marriott, plotting and scheming, hatching plan after plan to get my hands on as many of those Paul Mitchell products as possible, legally or not.

I worked out a fail proof strategy to stock my tote with trial size treasures the last time I stayed at the Marriott.  I was laying on the crisp white sheets of the king size bed and watching Roseanne while Lakeland painted on the hotel desk, when the best idea ever washed over me.  I quickly threw bathing suits on LL and myself, and marched to the front desk.  "Hi, how are you?" I said sweetly, then asked if I could get a couple of extra shampoo and conditioner bottles, presumably for showering after swimming in the pool.  Score!  I got 2 of each, plus 2 travel size baby shampoos.  Then, I waited until the shift change at 10:00pm, and went back to the front desk and asked the new person for a couple of extra bottles.  And it totally worked!!!  Five bottles of each travel size offering from the Marriott were now in my possession.  After resting for the night, it was time to implement Phase II, which involved rising early and sneaking out into the hallway, in my pajamas, to outright steal from the maid's cart.  Then, to go back to the front desk and ask the morning shift person for an additional supply, while also arranging for late checkout, in case Roseanne aired in the late morning. 

This is despicable, I know.  I alone probably drove the costs of staying at the Marriott above market rate.  But, it's also awesome.  Because, A.  I have supplied my gym bag for several months.  And B.  Who else would think of a shift change as an opportune time to scam more shampoo?

Now that I'm a "grown up", I actually use these products, with just a hint of remorse.  (Not for stealing them, but because I'm not sure when the next time I'll be able to stay in a Marriott and steal more will be.)  And yes, I know that I could just buy regular size Paul Mitchell products for $30.00 instead of stealing tiny ones for $110.00/night, but buying doesn't come with a bed I didn't have to make, and a bathroom I don't have to wash, and a big ol' TV.  Or the satisfaction of acquiring, however it happens, a huge supply of trial size bottles.