Perhaps We Didn't Properly Explain the Concept of the Fort

Jeff and I recently had to replace our ancient dishwasher (seen here)

with the kind that you can put soap into, press a magical button, and you get the idea.

So we decided to make a fort with the leftover box - complete with a "No Girls Allowed" sign - thinking The Kid would enjoy playing inside it.

But it turns out that he actually prefers to use it as a parking garage for our yoga ball, and instead, he would rather play on top of it, using it as leverage to whack his bed with a bat,

or, of course, to climb into his bed

or to gain some extra height for jumping to the ground.

What? That isn't what your children do with a fort?

Just When You Thought Alaska Couldn't Get Any Folksier...

I may not know how to field dress a moose, but I certainly know what to do with a stuffed caribou, just in time for the holidays.

Merry Christmas!

"I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle"

And what do you really want for Christmas this year?

(Christmas 2007.)

The Man's Corporate Plot Against Alaskans

Today, I had some errands to run on my lunch break, so I thought I would swing by Subway for a delightful footlong BMT. Yeah, I said "footlong." Don't judge. Anyhow, I started singing that "Five dollar footlong" jingle from the Subway commercial in my head as I approached the line at the door. So you can imagine my shock when I came across THIS:









"THIS" would have been a picture of a "SIX DOLLAR footlong" Subway sign, were I not afraid of being sued for copyright infringement. Or if I actually carried a camera with me everywhere I went. I think I may have verbalized my shock - I can neither confirm nor deny that - because a few people in line just shrugged and said, "That's just Alaska." What? Where's the outrage? And before you start reminding me that we get paid to live here, let me remind you that, in turn, we pay at least an extra dollar per gallon than the lower 48 to fill up our cars, so that check we get every year is a wash.

Oh, but there are other entities trying to pull a fast one on us: That cool "No late fees. Ever." offer from Blockbuster? That exists everywhere in America, except for Alaska. The $1 menu at McDonald's? We have a $1.50 menu. I'm sure there's more. I'll report them as I see them.

Winter Wonderland

The snow has finally arrived.

And we all know what that means:

Crazy parents bundling up their unsuspecting offspring and dragging them out to the sledding hill to suffer in the bitter cold just in time for Christmas card photo ops...

Angry

Last week, I was blatantly misquoted (with some creative grammar) in the school newspaper at the university I work at. I shrugged it off. This week, someone complained about my "comments" in a letter to the editor. Now. I'm angry.

Keepin' It Real

Some recent email correspondence between two pregnant moms (edited to protect your delicate sensibilities)

Me: I promise that sometimes, we do put clothes on our kid. Like when he goes outside.

Friend: You guys are just trying to create that "Southern" feeling in your house. I know it. You can admit it. Babies in nothing but diapers is the first step. Next step is taking them to Wal-mart like that, but I guess it's a little chilly for that where you live.

Me: Oh, yeah! Sometime, I’ll have to show you the video of The Kid playing in the back yard baby pool, completely nekkid, with mom and dad sitting off to the side in the car seat that was pulled out of our old Suburban, next to a beer cooler. That visual says it all. Classy.

Friend: Wow, that picture has to be next to "classy" in the dictionary. You guys belong back in the South so bad, it hurts. Who else can I indulge in "barefoot and pregnant" jokes with? Everyone I work with is all, blah blah blah, education, proper grammar, good hygiene, blah blah blah. And there's an unreasonable focus on having all of one's teeth.

Me: Wow. What a bunch of snobs! I’m so glad I work and live in a place where I can “keep it real.” Like unbuttoning the top button on my maternity pants after lunch. That might have been the best part of my day. Oh, and I actually accidentally burped in front of my new male coworker earlier today. I just blamed it on pregnancy. Yeah, the conversation just kind of immediately died at that point. Then there was last week, when we were meeting in my boss’s office, and I just sat down on the floor. Everyone was all, oh, pregnant lady, don't you want the couch? And I was all, nah, it’s roomier down here. You know, Alaska and the South actually have a lot in common. Maybe they should secede and form their own country.

Talent

*Note that the "bat" never leaves his hands during this entire maneuver.*

They Really Should Require a License for Parenting

Since my husband, Jeff, started a new job this week, with a different schedule, we decided to change our daycare dropoff/pickup routine. And by change, I mean that instead of having me drop off and pickup The Kid, he now gets to drop him off and I only have to pick him up in the evening. I marketed this new plan as "Hey, since you'll be working into the evening, now you can spend more time with him in the morning," instead of "Woo-hoo! Now your sleep-deprived, pregnant wifey gets to enjoy an extra 45 minutes of blissful slumber!"

So yesterday, I kissed both boys goodbye and headed off to work. I let Jeff take my car, since it has four-wheel drive and a car seat. We in fact have three cars right now - two of which have car seats. Guess which of the three cars I chose to take to work?

I left work, promptly at 5, and headed off to "Grandma Linda's" to pick The Kid up from daycare. It wasn't until I had chased him down the hall, tackled him, and put on his dreaded coat, that I realized I had no car seat. I sheepishly explained the situation to Linda, aplogized, drove across town, and warmed up the car left in my driveway - the one with an actual car seat in it. I went back across town, performed the half-Nelson coat manuever again, thanked Linda, and wrestled The Kid into his car seat. It was now 6:15. I immediately thought to myself "It's a good thing Jeff has to work late. I will never have to tell him how many times I had to drive across town today just to get The Kid home for dinner." Much like how I never had to tell him about the time I ran out of gas on the way to daycare while he was out of town two months ago.

At 6:20, however, I get a text letting me know that he got off work early, and he's on his way out the door! "Yay!" I texted back as I pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal. At about 6:30, I got a phone call. "Um, I left the lights on this morning, and I need you to come help me jump start the car." Uh-huh. So, I headed over to the parking lot he was waiting in, got there at about 6:45, and realized that I forgot to grab jumper cables. At this point, I've ordered Chinese delivery, called back to ask if they can just drop it off at my door, and then begged them to push back the delivery time. I drove back to Jeff's car, helped him get it started, and drove home. It was now 7:30. The Kid was finally able to get out of that infernal car seat. Dinner arrived at 7:45.

A few lessons were learned here:

1. One car per driver. Less confusion.
2. Daycare providers do not get paid nearly enough.
3. People that deliver food to your house really prefer that you be on their schedule, not the other way around.
4. They really should require a license for parenting.

And Now for the Real Reason You Come to My Site

Future scientist.

Future baller (On the approved list of sports - more about that later.)

Um, future spelunker?

Where Have all the Good Blog Titles Gone?

So I knew that I was a little late to jump on the blogging bandwagon, but I had no idea just how late until I tried to create a blog title. Or is it username? Clearly I have a lot to learn about this here technology, so bear with me. (Much like Blogger did, as I tested a gazillion blog title variations hoping to find one that wasn't already taken by someone with much more foresight.)

For those of you that don't know me, I chose the title "Of Moose and Me" to represent my locale - Alaska (aka "the 907!") and my favorite topic of conversation.

So why join the blogosphere now? I desperately need a place to post pictures of my son, The Kid, who will be joined in a few months by his future sibling, The Other Kid. I have been banned from emailing my obscene amount of photos to my friends and family who need the mailbox space for more important things. Like mail.