What else can you get into?

No doubt, you've all heard the term "terrible twos."

Before I had a two-year-old I thought, geez what a bad tag to brand your precious little bundle.

Now I think the term should be "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad two." That's much more fitting for my precious little bundle.

Some kids are mellow, quiet and shy and do what mommy asks of them. They play in their room quietly without making a mess, pick up their toys, and stop when mom says stop.

Other children, like mine, get into absolutely everything and cannot do a single thing without coming close to bringing the house down.

I turn my back for two seconds and Prestyn chews and swallows three pieces of gum she dug out of my purse, opens the fridge and gets some chocolate syrup to accompany the gum in her belly, then colors the side of our house with sidewalk chalk. "Really?" you might ask. Yes, really, all in a matter of minutes.

How am I supposed to fold the laundry and do the dishes when I can't keep her out of trouble for two seconds? If you've ever visited the Nelson abode you now know why its appearance is always slightly lacking.

Last week, she came in from playing in the yard to ask me, "Momma, what's this." To my un-astonishment, I see her holding a moldy dog turd in her bare hand.

She knew very well what it was.

Some days I think my hair could very well turn gray and fall out, at the same time. Then I wonder what we were thinking when we decided to do it all again.

I hope that this time around I get a child with blonde or brown hair, as opposed to fiery red, with my slightly more mellow temperament, instead of my husband's crazy, off-the-wall attitude. (I'm sure I was no angel at this age, but I know for a fact that Lars was a little devil.)

We shall see, we shall see. Keep your fingers crossed for me, my sanity, and my house.

"Trust me mom, I don't need pants. There's only

a little bit of snow left. The turds will keep me warm."

45 MPH Breeze

Every spring I forget about wind. And mud.

Come late February I'm usually pining for 40 degree mid-afternoon sunshine. That's all it takes these days, the red line reaches 39 degrees and I slide into my sandals and head for the porch with a book in one hand, cocktail in the other.

Typically I get two weeks of days like that in late march, which go as fast as they appear. When I've finally gotten rid of the winter ghostliness, and a slight tan appears on my pale self, the days are gone.

You're probably thinking, well it can only get warmer from there, right? Wrong. Spring peaks out from the turd-dotted snowbanks only to bring a pleasant dose of mud and wind. Oh, mud and wind, how we've missed you.

This year, we're one step ahead of the game on the home mud factor. We graveled our dust bowl of a backyard last fall, only one day before the first snowstorm. Lars hauled, by hand, 32 tons of gravel. He suffocated the sparse grass blades that resembled the chest of a 90-year old man. And the stout weeds, gone, in one afternoon. A miracle, really.

So I don't have a lot to complain about when it comes to mud right now. I just try to step around it in town, and back off the trail until it hardens. (But, when you're dying to get out and just go for a hike, it's infuriating.)

Today, the "breeze" that was predicted blew open my double-paned doggie door causing every other door in the house to creek open slightly then slam shut.  WIND should have been the forecast.

Last year, the wind continued to roar for three whole months. TORTURE! The temperature was nice, but the wind was enough to blow the roof right off your house.

I'm hoping that this year we only have a month of wind, but I'm sure Mother Nature has something else in mind.

Puddles, porcelain and pointers

I recently took a blog sabbatical, not because my blogging became too cumbersome, but because my brain turned to mush (think mashed bananas) and not a single creative thought crossed my mind for more than two months.

A glimmer of creativity might, yes might, have returned. The sight of puddles on the sidewalk just gave me hope that winter WILL end, and spring could be just around the corner.

In most U.S. towns, winter lasts four, maybe five months. In the high altitude desert we call home, winter sometimes pushes more than 60% of the year, with two full months of subzero temperatures. After reading a Weather Channel article entitled America's Top 5 Coldest Cities, I was stunned that Gunnison ranked second, losing to Barrow, AK. (Who really considers the Arctic Circle part of the U.S. - no offense Alaska, but I don't think you're playing fair.)

Typically, I love winter. Cross-country skiing, snowboarding, hut trips and snowy hot spring soaks make winter one of the most pleasurable times of the year. This is the second winter in 11 long years that I have despised. The first was the winter of 2007/2008, when I was pregnant with Prestyn. And this year because, yes, once again I'm pregnant.

Normally that shouldn't matter too much. But when all you long to do is make fresh turns in tight trees then hit the lodge for a hot cocktail, pregnancy is there to ruin it! No turns, no long soaks or hot buttered rum. Just constant nausea and countless hours wasted with my head in a barf-splattered toilet bowl.

The stereotypical picture of pregnancy is a woman 40 pounds overweight dipping pickles in a gallon of Rocky Road.

It isn't that magnificent for all women, trust me. I typically lose weight from barfing nonstop for months on end. I've never been thinner! But, when sheer exhaustion and rapid weight loss run together, all you get are two flabby, saggy ass cheeks. I bet the last time I weighed this much, or little, I was 14. And my ass was no doubt perky.

While I try to eat as many calories as possible - I just drank a milk shake, and it's 20 degrees outside - I hope that some of my brain cells will return soon. Last week I cut 13 inches off my hair, and the weight lifted allowed more oxygen to flow to my scalp, thus stimulating my brain to blog. Although the pregnancy stupor will probably last another year or so, here's to hoping that I won't regress past the fifth grade mentality I'm at now.

Friends, please keep your toilet clean in case I come over for a visit.



Pointers: Lessons I've Learned the Hard Way

Best thing to regurgitate: Cinnamon rolls - taste the same coming up as it does going down

Worst thing to regurgitate: Grapefruit or apples - not only does it scorch the esophagus, it makes a hell of a splash (it can't be healthy to get toilet water in your eyes and mouth, even though some of it was previously in your stomach)

Avoid altogether: Vomiting in public restrooms - hey, at home it's your own toilet water in your eyes, no biggie.

Manifesting Spring! Come on, do it with me.

Love, Liquor and Lubricant

It's been a long week here in the Nelson abode.

Today, the urge to make a hot buttered rum came much too early.  Luckily Prestyn ate the last of the butter right off the counter this morning. So, I was shit-out-of-luck.

For the past few months my dogs have been passing a lovely case of campylobacter back and forth with Prestyn. It's tits. (When you're walkin' down the hall, and you feel something fall: Diarrhea, diarrhea.) My hands are cracked and bleeding from washing them 23,984,732,984,737 times a day.

I called the doctor, for the third embarrassing time, to get another Z-pack to cure the chronic Nelson runs. Somehow, I have evaded the bacteria....but no one else has. (I must be the only one not eating fecal matter.) Bracing myself for a scathing lecture on cleanliness, I was surprised to hear that they would just refill her prescription one more time. Whew!

Unfortunately the doggy meds won't be so easy. I explained to the receptionist my recurring poopy problem, now certain it was starting with the dogs. "The doctor will want to see them." CHA-CHING was all I heard. I know that if I had spoken directly with the vet he probably would have just given me the rx, but of course he's on vacation. The nerve.

In my mind, a $322.98 stool sample confirming campylobacter from the local hospital should be enough to get a quick shot of antibiotics for pooches. Seems that's not the case. So they'll be soiling the yard four times a day for the remainder of the weekend.

Along with persistent squirts, we've been teething here for...oh...a good 2 years now. Will it ever end? Are there really teeth down in there? Will she really get every poop and pee in the potty? Will she stop getting into everything?

Highlight of the Week: Found Prestyn on the far side of our bed, chewing on a condom and covered in KY. Really? She thought it was HA-larious. To boot, I couldn't catch the booger because she was covered in lubricant and kept slipping through my grip. This began a good 20-minute, slimy chase. Eventually, I caught her and cleaned the lube off. When I got in bed that night, Lars looked at me and asked what was all over my pants, "Looks like splooge," he chuckled.  Pretty much...

Will I ever get my sanity back???

I know that she won't be two forever (thank god!).  If that were the case, humans would be extinct. Like many other animals, they would probably eat their young soon after birth.

Easy Things You Can Do to Save the Planet while Saving $

Over the years I have developed some habits that I am proud of (and others I am not, of course, which I will be keeping to myself).

In a world with an ever-changing climate, it's important for everyone to take steps to save our precious resources. I want my children, their children, and grandchildren to enjoy the same mountainous beauty I enjoy right now.  (And, I want it to snow, dammit! It's Dec. 4th, 40 degrees and barely any snow left on the ground....that ain't right!)

Below are five things you can do at home to make a difference for our future. These are easy things I've been doing for years now, and I enjoy the simplicity of each conserving task. The best part is, they will save you money! (Disclaimer: They are things most of you may already be implementing, but if not, it's food for thought.)

These days, all products we buy come in some serious packaging. When you buy things like yogurt, cottage cheese, or sour cream, don't throw the containers away - reuse them! I know in many places they can be recycled, unfortunately I don't have that option here in my high-altitude mountain paradise. So, I am never short on tupperware. Actually, Lars is always frustrated digging through our tupperware drawer because it is stuffed so full it barely closes. If you love sharing your creations, but hate giving away your prize piece of tupperware, this is the perfect solution. And, instead of using plastic baggies in your lunches, you can use these instead. You will save money on baggies and feel good about it!

On the same lines, bread bags are very versatile. I save mine and use them to store open packages of bacon, or spinach and greens from my garden. Brown-bag lunches could become bread-bag lunches. (Since we're in the bread aisle... Not into heels? Don't throw them away! Dry them out and make homemade breadcrumbs in your blender or food processor.)

In our society, cloth napkins have been packed away and only brought out for special occasions. Not in my house! We only use cloth napkins, and it's a nice luxury. We probably use, at the most, six rolls of paper towels a year. (How many do you use?) For cleaning up messes, napkins and dish cloths work much better than paper towels. You have to do laundry anyway right?

My husband is notorious for having three or four water glasses out at a time. On my daily round up, I gather all the water glasses and use them to water my houseplants instead of just pouring it down the sink. That, obviously, saves precious water and lowers bills at the same time. Can't beat that!

The final item, which may be harder for some people to implement than others, is composting. All those food scraps (no meat or dairy items) can make great fertilizer for your garden and lawn...for free! It also saves room in your garbage can (and the landfill) which can also keep more hard-earned money in your pocket.

If we all work together, we CAN make a difference to help Mother Earth!

Children: Proven to Gray Hair Faster than the Leading Brand

Every day is an adventure. I love it, don't get me wrong. But some days I think I may end up prematurely gray, or, heaven forbid, totally bald. It's a definite possibility at this point, and I wouldn't be surprised if one, or both, occur.

Some days Prestyn knows how to make the hair turn gray and fall out quickly. 

Today has been one of those days. (It's 2 p.m. and I already have a hazelnut hot chocolate - great for the hips, bad for the liver.)

Pretty much every day, after several cups of coffee, I need some alone time. You do too.

Today, during said time, Prestyn managed to get Lars' Sudafed off the counter and somehow pop six pills out. I found her with the metallic, plastic case on her bed, lips red with satisfaction. I panicked, as any mother would. I asked her how many she ate, as I counted the barren plastic discs.  Her response, "One, two, three, five, six."

Exactly that many clear, plastic holes were in the packet. Six or seven hairs fell out just then, and 12 went gray. Good thing I'm blonde.

I ran to find the rest of the box, and to my great relief I found six, slimy half-red tablets on the counter. Eight new, happy hairs popped out.

Apparently, once she got past the red coating, the tablets were no longer candy-like. The day prior, my friend Laura had given Prestyn a tiny red M&M to seduce her out of the car. 

Thank you McNeil Consumer Healthcare, for not making your pills taste totally like candy. But, PLEASE make a child-proof package!

Within the next few days, we plan to install a locking bathroom cabinet. Oh the wonders of the modern world...with deadly poison comes the ever-important child lock.

I know this will not be the last scare. I anxiously await many exciting days to come...before I turn gray and bald.

Taming the Grinch within

I have always despised Christmas music, as long as I can remember. I assume, though, that when I was a little kid I liked it.  I do like Christmas, just not the music that accompanies the holiday.

My mother played constant Christmas music, from the day after Thanksgiving clear to the New Year. I attribute my disdain for Christmas music to this inundation. Sorry Mom, I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but it's true. The sound sends irritation up my spine.

I once worked in a retail store in downtown Gunnison called Blue Addiction. Along with every other retailer in the U.S., Christmas music was mandatory torture for at least three weeks out of the year. The owner, Susan, allowed me to bring in instrumental music to play thinking that was Christmas-y enough. Good ol' Garcia & Grisman for the holidays. Thank the Buddha for that!

Today, being the Sunday after Thanksgiving, I decided it was time to set up the Christmas tree - for the second year in a row! Having a two-year-old makes it hard to Ba-humbug to the fullest. As soon as I set it up she said, "It's Christmas, Santa's coming." That, for some reason, kinda made me want to play Christmas music....I quickly snapped out of it...and found the Garcia & Grisman.

We have a very small house, so a small tree is all we need. My husband acquired the perfect tree for us - during his bachelorism ironically. It's about 6 feet tall, plastic, very dusty, and came equipped with its very own African American Santa. That's my favorite part of Christmas these days - my black Santa.

While I was erecting our tree, Lars piped in with some constructive criticism. He said I had put too many ornaments on the tree. I stood back and thought, What am I going to do with all of them then? He suggested we hang a few blue sparkly ones from our blue lights on the porch. Good idea...and I will get to that later this week...maybe.

I still wonder though, can there be too many blue balls in the world?