Wooden Jihadist Weasel Part Deux
Lady…..we are still working on putting together the WOODEN JIHADIST WEASEL!!!! Before we left for our mini vacation, we were able to get 1 bajillion pieces sealed with the Thompson’s water sealer from hell that takes 48 hours to dry PER SIDE.
Once we got back we started going through the novel that is referred to as the instruction book. Holy hell people, I should have hired a contractor to put this together. Each board was referenced in the following manner. Attach A11 to B15 using Hex Bolt S7.
Except, none of the pieces were labeled. Which means…oh that’s right, you guessed it Lady, we got to spend an entire day measuring each piece of wood and labeling it. And since the wood was still tacky from all that water sealant I slopped onto it, the tape didn’t even want to stick. 
After we finally got all the boards measured and the hardware sorted out, we were able to begin construction. Unfortunately, things have been a little slow in the contractor area as we’ve been hampered by a 2 year old weilding a screwdriver; running at you full speed as though she were in a jousting match, screaming “LET ME DO THAT!” Brett has tended to move the family jewels out of the way of these forthcoming sharp objects.
We’ve been able to get together one of the slide platforms and the roof for the clubhouse. By far, my favorite part of the construction was putting together the weathervane for the top of the clubhouse roof.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJ15LihWOjw
Maybe we’ll have it together by the end of the summer…
my ‘gift’
My co-workers have always called their daughter’s their ‘gifts’. Of course in a sarcastic tone, their daughters provide them more stress and worry than anything of materialistic value. They told me that one day I would understand and refer to Cardin as my ‘gift’. This past week has given me plenty of insight into my ‘gift’.
We took a mini vacation and drove to Columbus, Ohio for a weekend getaway. Cardin did awesome on the drive down and we were able to keep her busy with crafts, toys, movies, and songs. We did stop a couple times to stretch our legs and have some food.Once we checked in to the hotel and had gotten everything settled we decided to go out to dinner.
Our first choice restaurant was closed down so we settled for a Friendly’s. Figuring we’d use the ice cream as a bribe we got Cardin to eat the spaghetti we brought. Please note that we also had to dangle going in the hotel pool in front of her to get her to eat. As we were packing up to leave I leaned over to grab a bag and Cardin decided to belch right in my face. AWESOME. This became rather hysterical and caused quite the ruckus the remainder of the ride back to the hotel.
So much ruckus in fact, that Brett began to fake burp and get the whole car laughing. And since Cardin is two and mimics EVERYTHING Internet, you can kinda take a wild guess as to where this roller coaster is going. That is when it happened…the fake burp hit the sensitive gag reflex. Mount fucking Vesuvius in the car. I’ve got nothing but my hands or my mouth to catch it. What would you choose lady?
Cardin is covered. The car-seat is covered. The seat of the car is covered. Basically all I’ve got to work with is a box of baby wipes and some leaves. MacGyver would succeed where I failed. AND THEN….if it wasn’t good enough yet….we have to prance through the hotel lobby with a puke covered child and a puke covered car-seat. We twirled, we pirouetted, we box-stepped the hell out of that lobby. Listen lady, you can’t buy memories like this.
Once we got up to the room I stripped Cardin down to her diaper by some luck there was a laundry room in the hotel that you could pay to use so I was able to at least wash the chunks off. Yummy. From there I attempted to clean the car-seat. My attempts at hand washing were futile. The puke had seeped in too far, I needed a power washer at this point.
I made an executive decision and decided my best source of water pressure was the shower head so I decided to shower the car-seat. No…I’m not kidding. I actually had to give the car-seat a shower. In desperate times, men will resort to desperate measures. All the while Cardin was running around in her diaper screaming, “POOL! MOMMY, POOL!” Listen lady, I’m knee deep in your vomit…the pool can wait.
We managed to fit in a quick swim, hopeful that the amount of chlorine would kill off the smell of vomit. Afterward, I found a 24 hour grocery store and bought upholstery cleaner and febreze. I spent a good 30 minutes in the parking lot of the hotel scrubbing the seat of the car hoping that the smell would not permeate the car forever.
The next morning we had no choice but to put the car-seat back into the car and venture on our way to the zoo. It was 91 that day and the seat festered all day. In the sun. In the closed car. I think the car almost exploded. When we got back to the car we decided that it was time to throw in the towel and buy a new car-seat. We found the closet baby store and dropped $160 on the car-seat.
When we got back to the hotel, we switched out the old for the new, except there was one minor glitch still. We needed to dispose of the old seat still. The hotel wouldn’t take it and we couldn’t just leave it. So that night, we drove around…like hoodlums….looking for a dumpster that was not on a closed circuit TV.
Brett and I may be arrested one day. The newspaper headline will likely read something like this “NY couple arrested for abandoning vile car-seat; landfill refuses to accept such waste”.
Tea Time
When we were little we used to go to my grandma’s house every Sunday afternoon. Like clockwork. This used to be a typical Sunday tradition. Your homework had better be done and “no, you cannot go play with your friends because we’re having sauce at 2 and going to grandma’s house at 4”.
It was one of my favorite times of the weeks and I miss having everyone in the house at once, 14 different conversations going on, being apart of at least 5. Yelling and hollering with glee. But we grew up and moved out, went off to college, got married, had kids, got jobs so understandably, not everyone can get there every week anymore. We try to make it as much as possible, but life gets in the way.
This weekend my cousin was in from Oregon whoever could make it to grandma’s house to visit piled in. It was nice to have us all together again. Laughing and talking. My grandma force feeding us….one of her finer qualities.
Cardin and Alivia even got to enjoy a spot of tea together. They really enjoy each other’s company. Alivia talks up a storm when she sees Cardin and Cardin wants to watch and ‘help’ you do everything from feed to change Alivia’s diaper. When we leave, Cardin will ask about “liv-a” for a good solid hour”.
I know that I’m lucky to have been able to be surrounded by my cousins when we were growing up. So, I’m grateful they can grow up and play together. I’m sure they will make quite the duo once Alivia starts walking.
Geezer Biker
Many moons ago, I wrote about some of our neighbors. You can relive that here. At the time I wrote that blog, I did not mention a neighbor who has grown to be one of our favorites. We have dubbed him….GEEZER BIKER. Don’t get the wrong impression from the name. He is not a muscled old Harley dude. No tattoos or leather here.
He is rather, a simple old man who rides a classic style, old-school bicycle around our neighborhood every summer. You can count on him to be out all hours of the morning and evening. We have seen him out riding on our way to work, when we return home, and during the dusk hours. The man can pedal like a monster. He must bike 20 miles a day.
Let me tell you Lady, he goes all out in his getup when he rides too. He wears a shimmering red, button down jacket usually with a pair of khakis pant. This dude is so serious he even puts a rubber band around his pant leg to keep it from catching in the chain on his bicycle. That’s like Lance Armstrong “lost a testicle to cancer” hardcore. He wears the funniest hats and can often times be seen sporting a winter cap during the middle of a summer day.
Every time he would pass by the house Brett would look at me and in a strained voice go “GEEEEEEZZZZER BIIIIIIKKKKKERRRR” and each time I’d laugh; because I’m five.
Each spring we hold our breath in anticipation. Will Geezer Biker make another appearance this year? Our palms get a little sweaty as we wait out his shining moment. Beaming as he takes the corners of our neighborhood street with such magnificence; as though he was a prince riding his valiant stead.
Listen Lady…..there has been no Geezer Biker this year. No shimmering red jacket. No fancy winter caps to be sported. NO RUBBERBANDED PANT LEG, LADY. We don’t know what happened to Geezer Biker and we likely never will. His house is for sale. We haven’t seen him since his final ride last year.
Whatever happened to Mr. Geezer Biker, I wish him Adieu, and would like him to know that he brightened our days. Ride strong my friend.
Progress
In November of last year we started speech therapy with Cardin and in the months following we have seen great improvement in her speech. When we started this whole process she had a vocabulary of maybe a dozen words and communicated to us using gestures, grunts, and some very rough sign language. Listen Lady, she could moo like a bitch though.
At the time of her initial evaluation she was rated on two levels. 1) Receptive language, that is, her understanding of what we were telling and showing her and 2) Expressive language, her ability to verbally communicate this back to us. She scored at a 3-4 year old level for her receptive level, meaning that, what she was taking in was far above the average for her age. Clearly pointing to pictures of animals hundreds of times was working at some level. On the flip side, her expressive language was low and she was not performing at a level of where she should be for a child her age; as demonstrated by her caveman-like grunting. The gap between the expressive and receptive knowledge was too great.
It has been a long road, one where Brett and I had to learn to change our teaching behavior also, but Cardin is now speaking in full sentences and has completely removed all gestures and grunting from her communication skills. We no longer rely on any sign language and she has even begun to ask questions. Albeit we have so far avoided the death spiral of”WHY MOMMY?”
Her pronunciation is a little rough and she often utilizes the wrong pronoun, but that will grow with more experience. The majority of what she expresses can be understood by others and not just our learned ear.
She has even learned her ABC’s; she sings them best if you do them with her, otherwise they sound something like a drunken slur and you usually only catch “ABCTUVWXYZ”. I suppose those are the only important letters. She can count from 1-3 with no problem, though still doesn’t understand how to tell people she is going to be three because how do you have the coordination to hold up just three fingers. I bet Sarah Palin couldn’t do it either.
To think back at where we were a few months ago and see the progress and development that has occurred is astounding. To know that I helped carve out her language skills and she has yet to use one of mommy’s more derogatory, off-color remarks is amazing in itself. When she spits out a new sentence at me, I’m at first taken aback, unable to answer, as I process this whole formation of new words she has learned to string together…even if they happen to be ones that are directed at telling me off.