Signs

It's called foreshadowing.

So when I heard a sad, "Maaaamaaaa," over the baby monitor at 6:45 a.m., just as I was about to put on my running shoes, I should've known. T Junior typically gets up around 8:30. It was a sign.

I should've planned on getting nothing done right then. But no. I just plowed through the day like everything was normal when it wasn't. The kid took a nap at 9:30 for crying out loud.

We had to go to Target. If we didn't, we'd be out of hand soap and bread -- necessities. Besides, I wanted to get some things to help T Junior. He has a cold and is producing as much slime as those dinosaurs that ate Newman in Jurassic Park.

Before we left for the store, I stuffed my coat pockets with tissues. They definitely came in handy, but I was glad I also had a package of Kleenex in my purse (Wow! I'm actually prepared for something).

It took me a long time to gather all the items I needed to buy because we stopped every 30 seconds (seriously) to wipe T Junior's gushing nose and watering eyes. Garage to check-out line took about an hour and a half.

The cashier bagged $80-worth of Dial, fruit bars, bread, vitamins and the last two boxes of Vicks Plug-In refills as I slid my debit card and punched in my code. I was loading bags into the cart when she said it.

"Your card's declined."

I gasped. "What?"

"Your card was declined."

But she didn't need to tell me twice because I knew why. It's FEBRUARY. My card expired in 01/10. Mr. T has been bugging me to put my new one in my purse, but I didn't. I forgot. I could picture it still tucked in the white bank envelope on my kitchen counter.

Embarrassed, I explained that I would have to give all of the bags back to her as I had no way of paying. I don't carry a credit card, and I didn't notice the checkbook under the dirty baby socks in my purse until I'd calmed down a bit and was huddled safely in my Odyssey. I wanted to cry.

Poor T Junior. I'm so embarrassed. Poor T Junior. What a waste of time. Poor T Junior.

I drove home like that.

But after getting home and having some lunch, I felt better. We felt better. I still needed those things, though, and the thought of having to make a trip to Target during the work week exhausted me. "Let's just get it over with," I said to my living room.

T Junior was a good sport as I buckled him in his carseat again. Off we went.

To a different Target.

An Infestation...of Fuzz

Anyone know how to calm unreasonable fears in 20-month-olds?

It’s causing bath issues.

I know what you’re thinking: Oh no! He’s afraid of the drain!

Nope.

Okay, the water?

No.

Having his hair washed?

Nope. Hates that, but he’s not afraid of it.

My child is afraid of fuzz. “Puhzz,” to be exact. I wish I knew where the fear came from because then maybe I could fix it. I just know that one day he was in the tub, saw a little black piece of toe fuzz floating around and freaked out.

He tried to stand up. “Bug! Bug! Out!”

“It’s not a bug, it’s just a piece of fuzz. It’s okay.”

“Puhzz! Puhzz! Out! Out!” He practically climbed the wall.

So, okay. He thinks fuzz and bugs are the same thing. But where did the bug fear come from? I can think of one time he pointed out a spider and then went for it and I told hollered, “No touch!” But I also can distinctly remember holding an earthworm in my palm and encouraging him to touch it. Besides, he knows the difference between a “pie-dah” and a bug. We read Miss Spider at our house.

I guess it really doesn’t matter where this fear came from. Does anyone know how to fix it?

He won’t take a bath. Even if I get him in there, he’s only in for 30 seconds before he remembers “puhzz” and there’s not even any “puhzz” in there because I picked it all out of his toes before he got in like a freakin’ monkey.

The other night, I convinced T Junior to take a shower. His bathtub has one of those hand-held shower heads. He stood in the tub and I hosed him off.

But Tuesday night, he wanted nothing to do with the shower. In fact, he screamed and tried to hold on to the side of the tub. It was like trying to put one of the dogs in the bath.

“Baff!” he wailed.

"Alright, alright."

I ended up filling the tub a couple inches, but he wouldn’t sit down. I took a plastic food storage bowl and filled it under the faucet. Then I dumped water on him as he stood shivering, ankle-deep in non-fuzzy water.

What’s this mom to do?

A Letter to Crockpot Cookbook Writers

Dear Crockpot Cookbook Writers,
Thank you for writing a cookbook with lots of delicious, easy, and sometimes downright strange, recipes. I appreciate that you are trying to help make my day a little less hectic.

However, I DO NOT want to cook before using the crockpot. The whole point of the crockpot is so I don't have to cook.

If I wanted to brown meat and saute onions, then I would just make Hamburger Stroganoff and call it good. I want to throw a bunch of groceries in the pot, plug it in and walk away.

Just something to keep in mind for the future.
Sincerely,
Kerrie T.

The Winner Is...

Congratulations! Erica is the winner of the Sally Huss Bib Giveaway!

Here's what Erica said:

"OK so I have been totally complaining about the rice issue here too. Audrey loves it as well and we have like 30 different bibs at this point. I had the same issue with the pockets not staying open..and then if they did catch something it gets all nasty in there...gross! So of course I had to check out Sally's site. First off I love her little magnets and notepads...who doesn't like those..they'd make cute stocking stuffers too! Then I checked out the bibs..and you're right they are adorable! I especially like the "cookie tester" one! I will be ordering one of these if I don't win....as what mom isn't looking for anything to control the mess! Thanks for sharing your great find!"

So glad you'll be able to put the bib to good use, Erica!

(Please e-mail me your address so Sally can send you a bib. kerrie at sanitydepartment dot com)

This was fun. More giveaways ahead!

Thank You!

Thanks to everyone who entered my Sally Huss Bib Giveaway. A winner will be selected tomorrow.

I'm gonna do it the "old-fashioned" way: write down your names on small pieces of paper and then draw one out of a hat. Mr. T will officiate. The winner will be announced shortly after that.

Good luck!