Or: By the time you read this we will be puffing merrily away

For those of you unfamiliar with the Thomas the Tank Engine series, Thomas is a set of stories originally written by Reverand W. Awdry and brought to the states by Britt Allcroft. God bless her.

Thomas is:

“… a timeless television series based on the much-loved books by Reverand W. Awdry. 

The show follows the adventures of Thomas, a cheeky little Tank Engine, and his engine friends.

Set on the imaginary island of Sodor, a place where all vehicles have their own personalities, Thomas’ world is an idyllic place with a willingness to embrace good manners, hard work and a desire to be Really Useful - the ultimate steam engine praise!

All this takes place under the watchful eye of Sir Topham Hatt, the manager of the Sodor Railway.

Click here to enjoy an episode clip“

Does Wallace love Thomas?  Does a bear love honey?  Does Scooters love the crazy?  Wallace LIVES for Thomas.

There are many wonderful things that Thomas has taught him.  He learned his colors using the different engines, “Thomas a bwooo engine!” , “James a wed engine!”.  Each engine also has a number assigned to it, so not only can Wallace now count to 20, he recognizes each number on sight.  We knew he was devoted the day that he announced TT’s license plate number in Thomas characters,

“Duck, Percy, Toby, James, Henry, 0, Douglas!”*

On the other hand, if you’re a viewing adult it’s impossible not to notice that in Thomas’ world, people are punished pretty harshly for not pulling their weight.  Engines quietly doing what they are told to do are “Really Useful Engines!” and get treats.  Those who don’t cause “Confusion and Delay!” and have to have a time-out in the engine shed until they become humble again.  I’ve heard the stories compared to ideal Communism manifesto, but to me all of it can be explained by the fact that it was written by an English pastor in 1940-something.

There are absolute classist overtones.  Get above yourself in the heirarchy and you’ll get smacked down hard.  There are also definately religious overtones, “tis a gift to be simple” and all that.

It’s pretty hard, as a modern American psudo-non-religious individual, not to feel that the Fat Controller could probably do with being run over on occasion by the happy little engines,  “Sir Topham Hatt’s leg had to be amputated, James!  You are not a Really Usefull Engine!  You caused Confusion and Delay!  To the Tidmouth Sheds with you to think about what you’ve done!”

TT and I will often ask one another when we’re being bad, “Now, are you being a Really Useful Engine?”

I don’t think it’s doing any damage to Wallace, however.  While he stands at the top of the stairs, his whole two-year-old body tensed to use as a giant amplifier, and shrieks, “MOMMY! YOU GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!”, I don’t think I have to worry about him being a Thomas-like pleaser.

Anyhow, tonight (although you will be reading this tomorrow) we are getting on a train in Chicago and headed about 13 hours away to the funeral.  There are many reasons I think the train is the better idea:

1. $200 cheaper
2. Have I mentioned I’m not a fan of flying?
3. Our own room with our own bathroom, limiting Wallace-bugging-other-passenger opportunity, particularly as his legs are now long enough to kick the seat in front of him
4. Can take LOTS more in the carryon to keep certain young men busy
5. Can check the stupid car seat
6. Can get up and walk around
7. Overnight so we can get some sleep
8. View out window not “Clouds. Clouds. Sun. Clouds”
9. We get to RIDE A THOMAS!  YAY!

Possible drawback:

1. If we get on the train and after the first five minutes Wallace chirrups cheerfully, “A train all done, Mommy!”, he’s got quite a long time to be sorely disappointed

Some folks have suggested that it’s so much longer to train it than to fly.  I’d argue that not many of them have tried to fly solo with a two-year-old lately.  You have to get there rediculously early.  You have to get all your luggage to check-in and then haul it over to the special luggage collection area.  You have to get through security and have what is, essentially, the most boring two-hour wait of your child’s life.  During this time they will cry, scream, melt down, demand to be carried (in addition to the eleventymillion pieces of luggage) and will finally register their displeasure by ducking under the security gates and taking off during the 1.2 seconds you let go the death-grip on their fingers.

Or, you know, maybe your kid is a Really Useful Engine.  Mine gets all righteous and causes Confusion and Delay.

Minor bitchfest:  Between you and I, the part I hate most is when I’m dragging myself and all our carryons, including that fucking car seat, to the plane and at security I have to take Wallace’s shoes and jacket off.  This is a ginormous waste of time and energy.  Balancing everything on the stupid conveyor belt, dealing with the tongue-clucking as it’s discovered that inevitably the car seat doesn’t fit through the machine and must be blown up with dynamite and reconstructed in a special shop in the back, all while trying to get the shoes off a noncompliant toddler… well, just fuck you Air Safety Officials is all I’m saying.

I would bitch about what happens when the kid has already been patient for two hours and the flight is delayed, but I have gone to my Happy Place.

So, partly due to the fact that it’s an all-day adventure whatever the mode of transportation, the train it is.  I will be taking mental notes to report back to you, Peeps, because I’m Really Useful and hoping for a new coat of paint.

*Not TT’s actual license plate number.  It is, however, a really cool number.  Can you guess?

Permalink Comments (2)

I have updated and recatagorized some of the Specklinks over on the sidebar there.  I’ve also added a “Mammogram Mo” head that you can click on daily to give women free mammograms, and an icon that goes to my Avon Walk site.

Do me a favor, Peeps, things have been crazy lately and a lot of my old links were defunct.  Can you give me some new ones?  What have you been reading lately?  I want to know!

Luv,

KP

Permalink Comments

MoVo also sent this:

Watch out for Pearl.

Not work-safe.  Some mushmouth cussing. 

Permalink Comments

This morning, Grandpa Joe suffered a heart attack and passed away.

I can’t say much right now, because the effort to talk is hard.  He was one of the most amazing men I’ve ever met.  He was kind and thoughtful and loved his family the best I’ve ever seen anyone love their family.  He always, always held my hand.  He always, always smiled at me.  He always, always loved me and I know that everyone else in our family can say the same.

What I wrote about him in August of 2005.

The time we get is never long enough.  All the time in the world wouldn’t have been long enough.  We love you, Grandpa.

Permalink Comments (6)

Or: Cuties helping Cuties

The very sexy and fabulous MoVo sent me this email and I promised I’d pass it on to you:

A favor to ask, it only takes a minute….

Please tell ten friends to tell ten today! The Breast Cancer site is having trouble getting enough people to click on their site daily to meet their quota of donating at least one free mammogram a day to an underprivileged woman. It takes less than a minute to go to their site and click on “donating a mammogram” for free (pink window in the middle).

This doesn’t cost you a thing. Their corporate sponsors/advertisers use the number of daily visits to donate mammogram in exchange for advertising.

Here’s the web site! Pass it along to people you know. http://www.thebreastcancersite.com

Or, click on the photo of the fabulous MoVo below.  It’s an easy pain-free, yea, even cost-free way of helping out someone who needs it.

Mo says, “Mammograms are my thing, baby!”

Permalink Comments

Hello there, friends and compadres!  I’m writing to you with an update on our progress in the monitary and physical aspects of this fantasty cancer-curing adventure.

Physical update: last weekend Lisa and I hit the dusty trail and walked six miles.  That’s six miles as in the number 6, or approximately 1/6 the eventual distance we’ll have to walk in June. 

We died.  We actually died.  Our knees cracked, our hips fell from their sockets and we dragged ourselves home by our lips; fat, sad women without the will to continue.  The only person not knocked flat by that little jaunt was Bruno the dog, who would most likely describe the walk as a “warm up”.  Of course, huskies are bred to run 30+ miles a day so he was a little unnecessarily smug, in my opinion.

PHOTO PROOF:

I walked:

 
Lisa walked:

Bruno (smug) walked:

Despite how disabling it was, Lisa and I remain mindlessly optimistic that we’ll complete the 39 miles.  We will probably wind up in traction, but we’re going to do it anyway.

Monitary Update:  I’ve raised, thus far, $685.  YAY!  YAY, YOU CLEVER GIVING PEOPLE!  That is a lot of money.

Unfortunately, to sign up for this fun and charitable event, you have to promise to turn over $1,800 to the Avon foundation.  They are sort of like a charitable mafia, sort of.  They do great work and they’re not particularly fussed about whether the money comes from individual doners, or from those who are sacrificing personal limbs to the cause.

Right now I have $1,115 outstanding, which I will admit is a heafty chunk of change.  That scares me more than embarassing myself in public.  This is because I am not smart.

YOU, however, are smarty and know how to sensibly throw money at a problem to solve it.

If you haven’t donated yet and you’ve been sitting around, wondering to yourself when the right time to cure cancer would be, I’m here to report that the time is now!  Sieze the day!  Click and donate.  It only takes a second, it goes not only to cure cancer but to cover doctor’s payments for those suffering from breast cancer who do not have health insurance, and it helps me breathe just a little easier as I’m lumping idiotically down the street.

I will beg.  Please know that I will beg.

And always remember that I love you with endless, wheedling hugs,

Krissy Poopyhands

CLICK HERE!

Permalink Comments

I found out today that I was also accepted into Northwestern’s SLP program.  That’s three for three:  SXU, Rush, and Northwestern.

HAT TRICK!

WOO HOO!

SMACK!

I think that about covers it.

*be’s smug*

Permalink Comments (1)

Wallace, for those of you reading along, is doing just fine.  He still has four unquestionable pox, two of which have scabbed over, and a whole host of other mini-spots that might be pox.  They don’t seem to be itching him too bady and he’s having fairly regular oatmeal baths and is being kept slathered in various soothing goos.

I’m home from work the entire week.  I ain’t getting paid for it, which kind of blows, but on the other hand I ain’t getting paid for it so I don’t feel guilty or inclined to check in.  I’m enjoying this hiiatus from guilt.

You know, some people are good at being home with the kids all day.  Some people are good at playing with two-year-olds and doing housework.  It’s a difficult job and some people absolutely excel at it.  I am not one of those people.

While I love my two-year-old, I, myself, am not actually a two-year-old.  This means that most games that enthrall my child are downright torturous to me.  Also, housework makes me cranky.  Thus far it’s been a fairly snarky week.

My saving grace is MoVo, who’s Bean had CP first and so they can visit, and also I’ve been involved with endless art projects all involving Wallace’s room.  I went out and picked him up an art desk.  His dad assembled it (blue job) and Wallace adores it with his whole heart.  I’ve gotten more artwork in the past three days than I’ve had his entire exsistance.  It’s so marvelous that crayons and paints and markers are now not special-event items but are just sitting there for him to use whenever the mood strikes him.  He’s been stricken quite a bit and I’m reaping the cute, cute rewards including a piece that Wallace very deliberately entitled “Sunshines”****.  MUUHAHAHAHA!  I HAVE AWESOME WALLACE ARTWORK!

We removed the door to his large closet and the desk fits perfectly inside.  The items in there have been organized quite tidily and his coats finally have somewhere to live other than his floor.  So the desk is in the closet, but the chair to the desk is in the room.  The room looks doubled in size, which is lovely because it never was very big.  We also hung soccer ball string lights up around the inside of the door and Wallace thinks that that’s the COOLEST THING EVER EVER EVER.

I’ve also been painting large squares of magnetic paint on the inside of his closet.  I was originally planning to do it in his room but then TT mentioned that perhaps the new owners of the house will not wish to have a magnetic room when we sell it eventually.  The words “stripping magnetic paint” made me pass out and when I came to I greatfully conceded his point. 

As it turns out, it was a good choice for more reasons than one.  The paint is just primer with tons of iron filings in it so it goes on very thick and dries rough.  They say you can sand it down but not to do so “too much”.  I don’t know what they mean because with two thick coats on so far it’s magnetic enough that a magnet very gently sticks to the wall, but not so magnetic that the same magnet will support, say, a piece of construction paper; thus, frankly, defeating the purpose a bit.  It’s going to take at least two more coats, I think, and painting a color topcoat over it at that point would be like painting pitted brick.  Not nice.

I also finally broke out the wallies that match his decor and spent today sticking them happily to the boarder between his wall and ceiling.  I don’t have enough so I ordered some more.  Man, are those things easy to use and a quick way to make the room look good.  I also ordered some door pulls to replace the weirdo teddybear ones that have been there since we moved in.

The only disappointing piece in the whole room is a Lightning McQueen desk lamp that I got to replace the baby jungle theme he used to have.  I got it at Target on a whim, primarily because it was $19 and any of the other lamps that I’ve found to go with the general “trucks, planes, trains” theme are stupid expensive.

• Like this
• This
• This
• and This

I love them all (particularly the fire truck), but seriously, $50 + for a child’s desk lamp?  Seriously?  I know I’ve mentioned this before, but these people are cracked.

As an aside, what the fun is THIS?

So the Cars lamp doesn’t really match, but Wallace adores it dearly and it was cheap, so I think it’s staying. 

There are many other things I should be doing.  I need to put in a paper requesting a deferal to college for a year.  I have to study for my next test and berate my doctor’s office until they get me the papers I need to cover my butt for this week. I need to get on my ponies with the fundraising for the cancer walk because I’m about $1,200 down an will need to cover that if I don’t get donations.  HAH. Crap.

Instead, I’m writing to you.  You are special.  I want you to know that.

I will even put up wallies in your room.

*****pictures of Wallace’s room and masterpieces will be forthcoming.

Permalink Comments (1)

Doc says:

WE HAVE THE CHICKEN POX.

At least now we’ve had them and the rollercoaster can stop.

Sheesh.

Permalink Comments (2)

Tonight when MoVo came over I asked her if Wallace looked peaky to her.  I felt him and he was warm, but I thought that maybe it was just from playing.  I changed his diaper at bedtime and there are two poxy-looking spots on his right thigh and bumps that appear to be coming up near them.

Are they zits?  Are they pox?  Will there ever be a time when I don’t think my kid is coming down with chicken pox?

Stay tuned for more exciting updates.

Permalink Comments