Posts Tagged With: Sarlacc Pit

Scary!

Mommy and Daddy are big believers in using things until they no longer function.

We didn’t by a new car until my old car just flat out refused to start, ever, even after going to the shop three times. We have bent and dented frying pans with only about 25% of the non-stick coating still left – but hey, they still fry stuff, so who cares if they aren’t pretty? My husband has polo shirts where the collar is attached with random 1/2 inch bits of the seam still intact – but since you can’t see the gaps when the collar is folded down properly it’s still a functioning shirt, right? Most of Soapfi’s wardrobe is either gifts or hand-me-downs, her outfits scream St. Vincent De Paul & Value Village, and we love that – there is plenty of love and wear left in those little clothes!

So all that being said, it should be no surprise that the TV in the Sarlacc Pit is at least 12 years old. I know I had it for many years before Daddy and I even met. It’s huge, heavy, and the remote was lost ages ago – but hey it has a power switch, channel and volume controls on the front of  it, so it still works just fine – and when hooked up to the cable box it kinda sorta has a new remote.

A few nights ago Soapfi and I were in the den playing at ABCMouse.com (“ABC Song! ABC Song!”) and the TV was on CBC for whichever playoff game they were showing at the time (for those to whom the connection of CBC and playoffs in the same sentence mean nothing – I’m sorry that the Stanley Cup Playoffs aren’t a bigger part of your life, or that you’re stuck watching an American feed – I thank my lucky starts to live in a state so close to Canada that my local cable provider sees fit to include a channel where I can watch my hockey properly – hockey without Ron MacLean and Don Cherry just isn’t right! But I digress…). All was well and happy in our world, we were following the bouncy ball as it strolled through the alphabet, pointing out the various letters in the background picture, when POP, BANG, FIZZ. There was a brief moment of screeching static, a big spark, and a cloud of black acrid smoke.

Mommy unceremoniously dumped poor Soapfi to the floor, ran to unplug the TV, made sure nothing was still on fire, and opened the window to air out the god awful stink. Poor Soapfi was crying “up, up, up” followed by “scary, scary, scary”. I went into comfort mode and got her calmed down. However, the remainder of the night she refused to go in the den, even going near the door to the den would elicit exclamations of “scary TV”. Many days later the stink still lingers, and Soapfi still shutters at having to walk by the TV to get to the bathroom to brush her teeth or wash her hands, her two most favorite things in the world!

We do fully intend to remove the TV, however it’s *very* heavy and we’ve got to make some room in either the garage or the basement to put it, so it is most definitely a “project” as opposed to a mere “task”. But in the mean time, I guess we are helping her learn to deal with fear and scary things. And no, it hasn’t turned her off of TV’s in general, just that one specifically.

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Sibling Love

Currently Soapfi doesn’t have any siblings, and no plans are in the works for there to be one in the future either. Considering Soapfi’s demonstration of her concept of sibling love the other day, our current lack of plans are probably for the best.

Soapfi was playing with the Calliou figures she had received on her birthday. Doing all kinds of nonsense things (well I hope they were nonsense, or we have even bigger problems than her idea of sibling love!) like putting them in a pot and cooking them on her new play kitchen. Or lining them up on the table and then knocking them off with her golf club.

At one point she was taking them two at a time and having them “kiss” – go ahead, this is the “awww, how cute” moment and it doesn’t last long! Calliou & Emma, Clementine & Leo, Emma & Rosie, Leo & Calliou it was a non-judgmental kiss-fest….. until it came to Rosie & Calliou. (For those not familiar with the show, Rosie is Calliou’s little sister, all the other characters mentioned are just friends.) When it came time for them to kiss, she smashed their heads together like they were protons at the Large Hadron Collider. I was waiting for quarks and bosons to go flying around the room, at a mere two years of age she would finally be the one to discover antimatter.

This did not happen once, it happened at least four times! Unfortunately the Sarlacc Pit has once again devoured the video camera, so the pictures do not adequately display the enthusiasm involved in the “kissing”. I even offered her an out, “Oh no, they bumped heads, ouch”. I received an exasperated “No Mommy. Kissing.” A few more head smashes for Rosie & Calliou before moving on to other characters and nice gentle smootches.

So far she has shown no indication of trying to smash her skull into ours during good night kisses, so my state of mind is hovering more around perplexed, as opposed to alarmed, in relation to her concept of sibling love.

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Digital Convenience

Being in the age of digital photography is great on many levels. No waiting to see if a picture turned out, the ability to instantly try again, only spending money to print out pictures you really want, apps like instagram, and being able to take a halfway decent picture from your phone. However, it can have it’s downsides!

Since I’m not concerned about wasting money developing film that may yield unwanted surprises, I’m much more lax about leaving the camera in reach of Soapfi, as a result I now have about 100 pictures that look exactly like this:

(Part of me really wishes I was better at photoshop, because it just screams out for Storm Troopers or any other photoshop meme of your choice.)

Since digital makes it easy to try repeatedly for a good photo, I find that I don’t even make the effort to stage a good photo, I just expect it to eventually happen if I take enough pictures. Of course I tend to forget to even *take* pictures to begin with, it’s like I go on these photo rampages where I take fifty photos in two days, and then do nothing for three weeks, no matter how cute she is acting. My lazyness of not wanting to walk two feet to the Sarlacc Pit to retrieve the camera (since it’s most likely still hooked up to the computer from downloading the last photo rampage) is embarrassing, even for my fat azz.

I’m over due for making a photo album for the GP’s back east, and as I was going through my pictures trying to figure out where the last album had ended, I realized I didn’t have nearly enough decent pictures from the past six months to make a less than anemic album. Maybe if I put one picture per page, use a lot of text and embellishments… compared to the albums I made that first year it will be completely pathetic! What I did have was plenty of bad pictures… I mean really, I still have all 100+ of the pictures of the chair, do I really need them? Hell no…. so why can’t I bear to part with them?  Because digital storage is cheap, doesn’t take up any more space that the computer already does, and if Soapfi becomes a famous photographer some day won’t I want all her early works?????

One thing we did manage to do before we got lazy about taking pictures, was take a picture every week of Soapfi with Turtle (being science geeks we insisted on a reference subject) for her first year.  After her first birthday we managed to do one every month for about five more months, then it became a combination of Soapfi not putting up with it and us getting lazy about remembering.

So as Soapfi’s second birthday approaches, I give you her first 52 weeks:

Hopefully the copyright gods will be kind since I credited the music I used and YouTube didn’t completely pitch a fit after the upload…. this kind of stuff makes me paranoid that men in riot gear will break down my door at 1am and drag me out of the house like my own personal “V for Vendetta”. 

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Got Milk?

As Soapfi gets older we have started to dare to leave her in the living room semi-unattended for longer periods of time, with varying degrees of success (I’m recalling the blueberry/baby formula incident of 2011). We are usually around the corner in the kitchen, the Sarlacc Pit, on rare occasions upstairs grabbing a load of laundry, or even attempting to use the bathroom all by ourselves.

This weekend Daddy had to put in crazy hours of overtime, which meant I was leaving her to her own devices more often than usual in order to get anything done. I was washing my own hands in the bathroom when I heard Soapfi mumbling “wash hands, wash hands” so I just assumed she was hearing the sink (not only does she have Bionic Eyes, she has ears like a bat) and commenting on what I was doing. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

She was doing some early spring cleaning of the coffee table and having her own mini-spa day, complete with milk bath!

She delightfully declared everything “all clean” as she vigorously spread the milk all over the table.

After all, milk has so many uses, it’s not just for drinking. They make all kinds of bath products out of it, why not go straight to the source?

The best was when she started clapping her hands together to “wash” them and then started rubbing her head to wash her hair as well. Of course, when mommy suggested a *real* bath suddenly playing “wash hands/all clean” lost it’s charm!

The flexible spouts are definitely being yanked from sippy cup rotation!

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Lettuce Make A Mess

We are in the midst of the “I do it” ‘s. Struggling with the desire to let her do things on her own, while mitigating the cleanup that will undoubtedly be involved afterwards. There have been worse messes, but last night was fun – I only wish I had been able to find my camera – I’m blaming the Sarlacc Pit – it’s appetite for all things electronic is amazing.

Daddy was still recovering from his cultural experience from the night before, so it was Quizno’s for dinner. Soapfi decided my Turkey Ranch Swiss looked delightful and managed to grab an entire half and scamper off into the living room. It started out okay, she was using two hands, taking dainty bites while the sandwich obscured half her face (what I had hoped to capture on film), and actually sitting in an almost ladylike fashion in her favorite kid sized chair in front of the TV.

Yes, we are horrible parents who let her watch TV even though she is not two yet – the girl LOVES her some Super Why and since she can shout out and correctly identify the super letters, likes to get up and dance with Mr Noodle, and Mr Noodle’s brother Mr Noodle, and has learned to say “Arrgghh, Matey” (even though it sounds like “Eh, Mickey”) whenever she sees a pirate thanks to Calliou, I refuse to believe that we have rotted her brain completely. 

However, as she became more confident in her ability to eat this sandwich herself, things (especially the sandwich) began to fall apart.

First she decided she only needed one hand to control this momentous hunk of bread, deli meat, cheese, and condiment deliciousness.   A gaping maw began to develop along the edge, lettuce began to waft gently towards the carpet.

Sit still?  How absurd, mommy and daddy need to revel in this glorious achievement,  thus the full tilt run back into the dining room, leaving a trail of lettuce Hansel & Gretel would be proud of.  And the one handed death grip on the side of the sandwich causes the gaping maw to open wider.

Upon seeing the status of the sandwich I reach out and ask nicely “Would you like help?”.  Mistakenly thinking I could repair the gaping maw and mitigate further lettuce bombs on the carpet. Klaxons sound and Soapfi goes into full battle mode, pulling back on the sandwich and shouting “I DO IT”, and running back to the safety of her living room chair.  Naturally not taking the original path and leaving another smattering trail of lettuce (reinforcing my opinion that shops put way too damn much lettuce on sandwiches to begin with).

Feeling safer on her home turf, she lets me approach as I try, once again, to extract the quickly disintegrating hunk of food and explain that we now have to clean up the mess.

Oh… a mess!  The only thing she loves more than making a mess, it’s helping to clean up the mess…. of course her definition of “helping” is to grab a napkin or towel and proceed to vigorously smash the mess deeper into the carpet while chanting “all clean, all clean, all clean”.

After which I dutifully clapped, thanked her for helping, and reaffirmed my decision to give Alpine Carpet Cleaners one of the speed dial slots on my cell phone .

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First Steps

Soapfi’s second birthday is just around the corner and I’ve already managed to forget the time and date of over 95% of her “firsts”. I remember that they happened…. first tooth “Mr Bitey”,  first word “Dada”, first obsession “Caillou”, but I don’t remember when.

They make baby books specifically to record these things, it is tucked away on a shelf in the Sarlacc Pit (aka the den/computer room) – it does have one entry – from when she bunched up her legs and flung herself out of my lap at 5 weeks old, because nothing gets you motivated to preserve something for posterity quite like guilt.

So I’ve decided my universe needs a better timeline than the one given to me by Facebook. So now all my random crap about whatever will have a time stamp. I guess I will have to change my G+ tag line, I’m officially no longer too lazy to have a blog…. of course having a blog and maintaining it are two completely different issues.

Welcome to my universe, let the proper documentation begin!

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