Huggies Little Movers

When you're a baby, it's important to be stylish. Sure, you might s**t your pants on a regular basis, but that doesn't mean you can't look good doing it!

Call it the New Illusion Dressing. You won't find strong, unexpected silhouettes at Pampers. And the bold new patterns that redefine your curves without forsaking chic aren't at Luvs.

Why get caught in last season's Swaddlers? Huggies Little Movers are perfect and perfectly fashionable for dashing to the country or staying put in the big city.

Add dimension. Add color. And most importantly, don't forget to smile, you Little Plumber, you.

Identifying PMS

It's hard to know sometimes when a woman has PMS. Men have to take a real hard look at their behavior; at whether they did something exceptionally stupid to provoke such a strong response (a distinct possibility) or whether the woman is just behaving even more irrational than normal (also, I regret, a real possibility).

Take the other night, for example. I called Leni and asked her if there was anything in the fridge for dinner. I was stuck on set, hadn't eaten since 2 PM, and wasn't going to be arriving home until 11. So I felt it was a reasonable question to posit, considering she was home, in relative close proximity to the refrigerator, and my telepathic ability to inhabit Max and have her recon the kitchen wasn't working as well as I had hoped.

Leni disagreed (about the reasonable part), and got angry, leaving me to wonder what I had done.

So which was it, PMS or Me Being Exceptionally Stupid? PMS, of course. But most of the time, we can't tell without the clarity of hindsight when our suspicions are confirmed.

But let's let you try one on your own. Pencils ready:

You ask your friend Brent how things are going with his girlfriend. He rolls his eyes, head slumped in frustration.

"What's wrong," you say.

He responds, "I've just never seen anyone take the death of a plant so hard..."

And GO!

Car 54, We Have A Possible 211A In Progress...

During the '80's Stock Boom, we lived in a large house kind of like the mansion in the photo. Google doesn't offer a street view, but if you have the time or inclination, or maybe just like to follow me around with binoculars so you can add to your ever-growing compendium of everything Me (sorry, ladies, I throw my toenail clippings away), drive past 24 Harbor Hill Road in Huntington, New York. That's the house I'm talking about.

Anyway, I was about twelve when the following event transpired:

My family and I had been out for the evening, perhaps at a movie, perhaps burying a troubled relative in the woods, I don't know (my Mother couldn't remember, but she told me the rest of this story). When we finally arrived home around 10 PM, we noticed that the house alarm was going off.

Now, this happened often but it didn't really matter because the alarm didn't send a signal anywhere: it just made noise as a deterrent. And while this ineffectual security measure offered little recompense for the loss of one's valuables, it did present the thief the very real, and very likely, possibility of suffering a slight migraine. We didn't have ADT; what we had was a Loud Useless Siren. So if you were a branch leaning against a window, or a squirrel exhaling, or a piece of furniture conspicuously sitting motionless with other color-coordinated pieces of furniture on the carpet, you could set the alarm off.

Except this time, the motion-detector had also gone off. And this didn't happen often. So my parents called the Police.

The Police came and checked out the house (we monitored progress as their flashlights flickered out of each window, moving progressively through room after room), until finally, the two officers emerged.

Cop: You can go on in, now, folks.
Dad: It look alright?
Cop: Far as I can tell, everything seems to be okay. There's no broken glass or windows, all of the doors were closed and locked from the inside. Except I think one of the rooms upstairs got hit.

That is an actual quote: got hit. He thought we had actually been robbed. Why did he think this? Because the bedroom he was referring to looked like six burglars had tossed the place, emptying out the closets and drawers, spilling the contents of everything onto the floor.

And the room looked like that because I hadn't cleaned it in days.

Houston, We Have A Problem...

Apparently, I spoke too soon when it came to Max not using any profanity. To be fair, no, she didn't say the word F**K. She just used the letter "F". But is it the same thing? I don't know. I'd rather get S on my hand than what's in Roxy's diaper. And I didn't watch Jennifer's Body for the letters T & A (This isn't Sesame Street), but rather, what they represent. Would Max see a difference between getting Grounded and getting G'd? Probably not if both meant no computer for a week. But should she get punished for a single consonant?

Let's hand it off to the judges...

Aunt Vanessa likes to say things like "BRB" and "LOL." If you're old or out of touch, those are acronyms for "Be Right Back" and "Laughing Out Loud." Those are also things Max picks up. What else did Max pick up? FML. And that, dear readers, stands for F**k My Life.

Me: How was your day?
Max: Horrible. FML.
Me: You're not allowed to say FML. You're eleven. That's only for adults.
Max: But Aunt Vanessa taught it to me and said it was okay.
Me: Aunt Vanessa can teach you to drive stick but I'm still not letting you have the car. Too bad.
Max [pouting]: Fine. MLS.
Me: What's "MLS?"
Max: My Life Sucks.
Me: Give me a break. Your life doesn't suck.
Max: Fine. ATM.
Me: Now, what the hell does "ATM" mean?
Max: At The Moment.

Well, F.

Snap! Crackle! Blecch!

Max hates crunchy cereal. I don't know why. You might as well hate Kim Catrall for being Undead. Or Richard Simmons for holding some revolutionary new toaster in front of his hotpants, as if a toaster could ever eclipse the brightest flame this side of Canopus (that's an Astronomy joke).

The whole point of cereal is to eat it when it's crunchy. You enjoy it so much, you forget all about how much you've already eaten until that halfway point during your second bowl of Fruity Pebbles when you realize "err, that was probably a mistake."

In any event, this morning I poured myself a bowl of Rice Krispies. I used the milk Max bought only last night and immediately spat the whole mouthful into the sink. I don't know if it was sour or if that Tylenol Tamperer from the 80's was back pouring drain cleaner into the gallon but what I do know was that the mouthful of 2% Ipecac I almost swallowed was enough to make me near vomit on everything on the breakfast table.

And because my family refuses to use the dishwasher (or unstack it), I just left the disgusting bowl of Krispies on the counter near the rest of the dirty dishes piling out of the sink to deal with later.

Only I didn't have to deal with it. Max sent me this text at work: "U DIDNT TEL ME THE MILK WAS BAD! IT TASTED LIKE *beep*!"

She thought I had left it out for her because she likes it soggy; that I had prepared it before I left so it would be perfect by the time she was ready for breakfast. So she just shovelled a big spoonful into her face and swallowed.

But I like that she actually took the time to type out "beep." I like that at least one of us is keeping the profanity to a minimum 'cause at this point, it's a f**king miracle Roxy's first word wasn't c**k or douchebag. Or whorebag, I guess. I throw that one around pretty often, as well.

It's A Scavenger Hunt!

Max has graciously offered to host the First Annual I Am An Idiot Scavenger Hunt! Hidden deep within this picture are ten items for you to find. Now, keep in mind, these aren't just any objects: these are items crucial to our daily routine. That's why it's imperative for you to locate them! Ready? Go!

10. Black iPod
9. One Math Textbook
8. Moscot Eyeglass Case
7. Pair of Eyeglasses
6. Blue Polo Shirt (half of her School Uniform)
5. Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire (the book)
4. White Apple Headphones
3. Her Floor
2. Leni's Black Flats
1. Roxy

Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring, Bananaphone!

As far as I can guage, Roxy is an accomplished mimic. And while I'm sure you can argue that Nature made every baby a gifted mimic so the Cavemen didn't think they were angry flesh-colored Zucchinis and crush them with boulders, I like to think that Roxy takes after me and is a natural performer.

In any case, she's taken to copying the behavior she witnesses the most in our house. You can skip ahead to the 1:00 minute mark if you like. Or not, if you happen to be her Grandma. I think she's adorable.

You! Shall Not! Pass!

Here, Roxy does her best impression of Gandalf the Grey. Make sure you have the volume turned up so you can hear the gentle thud of her whacking herself in the head.

It's Alive! Alive!

Yesterday, Roxy took a few steps on her own. Today, she took a few more. If there were ever a reason to install invisible fencing in my apartment, I'd say this is it.

Is This What It's Come To?

Yesterday, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, Leni came in and asked if there was anything she could do to help. You should go ahead and read that again because something that incredible only occurs in Nature about once every 1200 years. I would hate for you to miss it. It's like coming back to Pompeii from your snorkelling trip and wondering why everything smells like a kabob (see here if that joke makes no sense).

As I was stacking a few dishes in the dishwasher, I told her she could clean the stove, but should hold off on the cutting board. "I still have to clean the Crock Pot." Now, the ceramic part of the slowcooker was in the sink, soaking. The other part, the part that you plug in, was still on the counter, resting on top of the cutting board.

Leni: You know you can't put that in the dishwasher...
Me: What?
Leni: The Crock Pot.
Me: The part with the plug?
Leni: Yes.
Pause for me to consider this.
Me: [laughing] Did you just tell me not to put an electrical device in the dishwasher?
Leni: [laughing harder] Well, um, I didn't...
Me: No, seriously? Is that really what it's come to? That our marriage has disintegrated to the point where you have to ask me not to put something that has a plug on it into the dishwasher because you weren't sure if I knew that?
Leni: [laughing] I didn't mean it like that.
Me: Maybe I didn't hear you correctly through my helmet.
Leni: I didn't say that.
Me: No, I'm going to go do a load of laundry. There are too many fingerprints on my laptop.
Leni: Will you give me a break.
Me: You give me a break.
Leni: Don't be stupid.
Me: You're stupid.
Leni: You're stupid.
Me: Apparently.