With Apologies to David Bowie

August 28, 2005


Ch-ch-ch-changes… Hey, folks! Will ya look at what Miss Zoot did?! I bow to her MT skills and my reverence exists on many, many levels. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the prettiness that is my site!

MAN is it good to be back!

Soooooo much to talk about. Here is what you can expect to hear about in the coming days:

1. A 4-year old birthday party from hell including the perv disc jockey (yes, disc jockey)

2. A cop gives me the finger and my driving adventures continue

3. My 93-year old grandmother is a TRIP!

4. My evil plan

But what would the first post back after a long hiatus be without a Swimmy story. And a potty.

Back by popular demand (and because it is a regular occurrence in my life!)…

The saga of the Swimmy and the Auto-co-magical Flushes!

Husband, Swimmy, MotherInLaw (MILtastic) and her husband, JackTabulous, and I go to a popular chain restaurant to have dinner. (Note: this particular one has a menu that is a book of 14 pages long and is named after my favorite dessert. You figure it out.)

After much dining, talking, and continous attempts at Swimmy Entertainment (no kids menus OR crayons – ugh!) Her Highness decides she needs to use the potty. MILtastic is knighted to be her escort and off they go… only to return 2.5 minutes later because this bathroom has “auto-co-magical flushes”.

For those of your who don’t speak Swimmy (or 4 year olds), these are the toilets that are supposed to be superiorly sanitary and flush by themselves. Automatically. Like magic.

You see how that happened? Why use extra words or ideas to describe something when it can be combined into one? Very economical with words, she is.

The Swimmy refuses to go potty on an auto-co-magical flush potty because that falls into the “scary flushes” category and WE CAN HAVE THAT NOW CAN WE?!

Being a Genius Mommy who doesn’t want her nice car’s upholstery ruined, I figured out the technology behind the auto-co-magical flush many months ago and how to get the Swimmy to “go” on these. And it goes a little something like this (hit it!):

1. Swimmy stands with back pressed up against stall door with hands over her ears (lest it flush accidentally and LOUDLY which they seem to do)

2. Mommy takes a wad of toilet paper in her hand and places it over the Flush Sensor on the back of the potty so as to block any body motion that might trigger the Most Horrendous and Traumatic Sound to the Swimmy.

3. Swimmy sits on the potty while I have to stand holding said wad over the sensor and not gag as she do that voodoo that she do so well.

4. Swimmy wipes her very cute and small tushie and immediately exits stage left to the other side of the bathroom to wash hands and avoid said Horrendous and Traumatic Sound.

5. I let go of the wad, the toilet flushes, and we go back to the table.

There really should be a handbook for these kinds of things for new moms. Here, consider this chapter gazillion on Potty Etiquette and the High Maintenance Child.

On a more serious note:

My thoughts go out to the Mossman family and their extended family for their loss of the lovely Sass. She was a lady full of grace, charm and warmth who loved her family and life. I am honored to be a part of that. She will be greatly missed.

And to those of you in New Orleans, our prayers are with you as you face Katrina. I wish there was a way to give that bitch a beat down, but it looks like you guys are in for quite a ride. We’ll be watching.

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