It smells like an endometrium under my arms!

Because I’m nothing if not a scientist, I’ve been experimenting with deodorant lately.

  • Hypothesis: Anti perspirants make me itch.
  • Experiment: Apply Mitchum anti perspirant under arms.
  • Results: Ow! Ow! Itchy! Hand me the Golden Grahams! I’m going to kill someone!
  • Analyze Results: Itchy? Yes. The hypothesis is true.
  • Report Results: Hey, you guys? Anti perspirant makes me itch.

I’ve found that the only deodorant that doesn’t make me itch is Tom’s. A few days back I ran out of the lavender scent, so I headed to the store. They, too, had run out of lavender, so I settled for Calendula. When I got home, Harper demanded that I let her smell the Calendula.

Harper: What is this?

Me: It’s Caligula. No! Wait. Calendula.

Harper: Meredith, smell this. It’s Mommy’s uvula.

Me: Calendula! HA HA HA HA!

Me (six hours later, telling Jeff the whole story, because that’s what I do): And then, and then, and then Harper told Meredith to come over and smell my uterus! HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!

Jeff: I don’t get it.

Me: Wait! Uvula.

Jeff: Huh?

Me: Yeah. Anyway. Um, Ramona sneezed today. And on a lighter note, I folded towels. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The woman had bad roots, but I didn’t call her on it.

Yesterday morning I was a bit bummed out because Meredith has been having stomachaches that are a bit more like STOMACHACHES(!!!) and they hit her quickly and she immediately starts to cry and sometimes she throws up, and I would do just about anything to suffer through them for her. So anyway, she had a bad one yesterday morning and the doctor couldn’t get her in before 10:15, and I had to be at work at 10:00, so Jeff had to take her in, and well, I wanted to be there, but I couldn’t.

Since I was running about five minutes early to work, I stopped by Starbucks for a coffee. As I left the building with my drink and started walking to the car, a woman (who was unbuckling her child’s car seat) backed away from her car, looked at me, and yelled, “What an ugly haircut! What ARE you?!?!” Since I was the only other person in the parking lot and she was looking right at me, I couldn’t really pretend that she wasn’t talking to me. SO, I pretended that perhaps she thought she knew me and that she was being all jokey. I sort of smiled and continued to walk to the car.

“No! Seriously!!! What ARE you?!?!”

She continued to scream out at me until I was feeling the adrenalin rushing behind my eyeballs. I jumped into my car, quickly locked the door behind me, started my car, and drove away as she stood and watched me with a crazy angry look on her face.

Who does that? Who singles a stranger out on a parking lot and starts screaming insults at 9:50 on a Saturday morning? Part of me is sort of proud that I didn’t say anything back to her. But, seriously, I know myself better than that. I would NEVER say anything back. (I talk a good “I Should’ve Said”, but I think we all know that I’m much more flight than fight.) Part of me is a bit disappointed that I DIDN’T respond in some way. But what would I have said without compromising a bit of dignity?

“Seriously!!! What ARE you?!?!” I think I’m still bothered by the whole thing not only because of my tendency to be a bit on the self-conscious side (I have looked at my hair several times today, and I do believe that it’s Just Fine), but because her child was sitting right there in the car seat watching the whole thing.

May I ask what you would have done?

Also, so I don’t leave you hanging, Meredith has been diagnosed with GERD. We dealt with it when she was a baby, and it seems that it’s back, and it’s stirring up all sorts of anxiety because she doesn’t want to get sick at school, and I can’t even tell you how happy I am that school’s almost out. Three more weeks. That’s it. Less than twenty days. But anyway. Today we had to leave church less than twenty minutes in because her stomach started hurting and she freaked out, and she has been crying on and off all day, and any reflux advice would be appreciated, too.

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Open me! Open me!

It’s been a busy week at the Pudding house. As you know, we adopted Ramona last Saturday, and are now struggling with keeping her sequestered from Sidney (our other cat) as she gets over that whole Humane Society Upper Respiratory Infection thing. (By the way, I HATE giving medicine to a cat.)

Apparently, Luna’s death last year coupled with Ramona joining our family last week has really screwed with my head—specifically, my recognition synapses. I’ve spent the past five days calling Ramona “Fiona” and confusing Harper and Meredith. Last night when Jeff returned from New York, I called him Jim.

Next Tuesday is Harper’s fourth birthday, and Wednesday is Meredith’s sixth. Four and six. Holy smokes.

I have lots of stories I want to tell you, but not a lot of time. SO, here is a video from last week’s kindergarten performance. (Don’t be scared. It’s less than two minutes long.)

Meredith shone.

Meredith shined.

(I think both are correct, unless shined indicates that she made something shiny, in which case, she definitely shone. There was no chamois in sight.)

MC’s Spring Concert from Angela D. on Vimeo. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

How was our Easter?

As you can see, it was partly sunny with a 75% chance of wicked storms.

Typical Pudding Weather: 25% Sunny, 75% Sullen

At least the girls had an absolutely delightful morning.

The Yin and the Yang

Such a beautiful day. I simply couldn’t stop smiling!

Easter During The Great Depression

(Although it was something like twelve degrees below zero this afternoon, Jeff wanted to take a family photo after church. Meredith was freezing, Harper was ready for a nap, and the only thing keeping me from killing our neighbor was that whole Love Thy Neighbor thing sprinkled with a bit of Thou Shalt Not Kill. After taking this photo, Jeff mentioned that the three of us were channeling those heart-ripping photos of mothers and their kids during The Great Depression.)

Happy Easter, y’all. Time for bed. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

When leaders act contrary to conscience, we must act contrary to leaders.

When I pick Harper up at pre-school each day at 11:30, I sometimes get there early enough to see Meredith at recess. (One of my very favorite things to do is park the car, listen to a little This American Life, and watch Meredith running around with her friends. Sometimes I have hot tea with me. It really doesn’t get much better than that, does it?)

This morning as the kindergarten kids lined up for the walk back to the building, I noticed a plastic bag blowing around on the sidewalk. As the kids passed the bag, many of them jumped over it. A few kicked it. Meredith picked it up and tried to hand it to the recess monitor.

Before I go any further, please know that although her room is a complete disaster, Meredith is very sensitive to litter. Together, we’ve picked up quite a few discarded cups and cans out of parking lots. I stop short at the scraping up of dead birds, but it’s only because I never have a spatula handy, and I’m a big believer in the circle of life and whatnot. (I’m also a big believer in Avian Influenza, so the No Spatula thing is really more of a decision than an inconvenience. Don’t tell Meredith.)

I’m not sure what Meredith said as she tried to hand the bag over to the recess monitor, but I could hear the monitor’s yell through my closed car window. “Throw that down!”

Meredith said something else.

“No! Just let go of it!”

Meredith looked crushed as she put the bag back down onto the sidewalk—being “forced” to litter by an authority figure.

After Meredith entered the building, I got out of the car, picked up the bag, and walked it over to the trash can—the trash can that the recess monitor had to pass by in order to enter the building with the kindergarten kids.

Tonight I’ll be teaching Meredith about civil disobedience and the importance of doing the right thing—even at the cost of respectfully disobeying an authority figure.

Sometimes the mom thing is really hard.

With that said, sometimes it’s really easy. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

And the ones that Mother gives you don’t do anything at all.

As you know, we did the Parent/Teacher conference last week.
Harper’s report stated that she represents feelings and ideas in a variety of ways.
She shows confidence and takes initiative.
She responds to sensory input to function in the environment.

Yesterday, when I asked Harper what she learned in school, she handed this to me:


Apparently, “responds to sensory input to function in the environment” is fancy for “totally relates to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

“Staring at the Candle, Part II” by Meredith Pudding

I’m going to stare at the candle all night long.

Look! Did the candle blow out? No. It’s still lit. And, there’s another one lit! Uh-oh! We don’t have any more candles after that second one is lit. We’re going to have to light a match.


Are we inside a cave? Or are we at home? OR ARE WE AT HOME AND THERE’S A BEAR IN OUR HOUSE? Tough question, you know. Are there bears in here, because they might pop out and catch us. RUN! IT’S A BEAR! We have to drive at the highest speed mark.

Is the bear behind us? Or is it in the trunk? THERE’S A BEAR IN THE TRUNK! HELP! Could someone call Animal Control? “I don’t have a phone,” said Daddy. “Neither do I,” said Mommy. Harper said, “I do.” So she handed the phone to Mommy and she quickly dialed.

Finally, Animal Control came. They took the bear out of the trunk and Mommy, Daddy, Meredith, and Harper jumped out of the car. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>