I dedicate this post to synergy – when 1 + 1 = 3.

Looking back over last week I realized that, although mildly interesting, nothing unto itself seemed all that mentionable. It was a regular week with the regular stupid stuff to deal with, and the regular daily data-dump I do in an effort to not let things have a cumulative effect. I like to think of it as my own little coping mechanism. However, when I actually took the time to do a data-recovery, and revisit events and activities that took place over the week, I realized the sum seemed at least a little bit more interesting than the parts. That, and the fact that this baby may actually not be sucking my life force as much, thereby giving me the energy to do something other than sloth around on the couch.

Let’s start with the fact that Rosie is back on shift work, apparently trying to help us make ends meet in the grocery shopping department. I apparently missed the announcement that as of Monday last week, the bounty on cute helpless birds was given a substantial increase. And as such, Rosie, brought in her quota of 1 dead bird per day. 5 days in a row. She then proceeded to get downright pissy with me when I would dutifully pack it up in a paper-towel coffin and ceremonially dump it in the trash can. She would yowl at me as if to say, “Um, Helllooo! That is mine! Get your own damn bird, you filthy human. Now pet me.” As punishment, she decided to call in “The Enforcer” who promptly sprayed our shower curtain. Our banishment-from-the-house strategy for Boris is currently being formulated.

As a parent, I have witnessed myself become about 10,000 times more aware of germs and disease and, as such, have become a walking Mayo Clinic Reference Guide. Last week we were exposed to a new and exciting ailment called Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease. Which only leads you to ask the question, “Who can take something called ‘Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease’ seriously?” I still can’t say it without thinking of the equally absurdly named Hoof and Mouth Disease (which, as I learned, is of no relation whatsoever.) Who thinks up these names? I envision that all the affliction namers from the affliction naming department were out on sick leave, and an under-aged, temp with a hang over was forced to take the helm. Not only is this name ridiculous, but it is misleading. Naming something as a disease automatically puts it in the “uh-oh” category. Diseases are things you have for an eternity, and involve treatment protocols, and have centers dedicated solely to their study. So, to call something a disease, when in all actuality it is really just a virus is just fueling the fires of germophobic mothers everywhere. Like we need that kind of abuse.

Then, as a part of our ‘Hood Watch Program, we got to witness some real live drug consumption right in front of our house! Nothin says ‘livin’ in the ghetto’ like a carful of guys having a little pharmaceutical fun with the windows down, yelling over the thumping loud stereo, smack in the middle of the day. It’s days like this that make me long for a cookie-cutter track home in a culdesac with a mini-van parked in every driveway.

The grand finale of our week ended with a two-for-one special: in a period of 1 hour we were blessed with both poop in the bathtub AND a huge, unsupervised crash echoing from the kitchen. I think the whole poop in the bathtub thing kind of speaks for itself. Stella bathed. And before she got out of the tub, Stella pooped. Steve “nothing grosses me out…ever” Walston was quick on the scene, while Natalie “everything makes me nauseous…and tired” Walston tried her best to take the drippy, wet, poopy Stella away from the crime scene without making a larger mess. After about 50 wipes and a do-it-yourself sanitation kit assembled by Steve to disinfect all of the bath toys, things seemed back to normal. Until, that is Stella was left unsupervised in the kitchen for about 6 and a half seconds in which time she managed to pull a couple of pasta plates off the counter and onto the floor. Yes it was loud. Yes, they broke. Yes, another call was put out on the PA System: “Steve, clean up, aisle 5.”

So as you can see: death + disease + drugs + poop + breaking noises = the nuclear family of the aughties.