Blah.

I have a cold. Allow me to whine about said cold. My nose is stuffy, which is creating some very interesting blocks of snot around my nose stud. I keep going to blow and wipe my nose forgetting that I have a fresh piercing there, so the blowing usually ends up with me swearing and perhaps wiping a tear or two from my eye.

Speaking of eye (smooooth segue), I took the kidlets to Target again yesterday. Yeah, yeah, you think I'd learn but no. Why would I do that? Tate was actually pretty good. I had a little fun at his expense in the Halloween aisle. I told him to go up and say hi to the skeleton dude they had at one of the displays, and while he was standing in front of him I pushed the button to make his eyes start flashing and his disembodied voice basically start telling Tate he was going to eat him. I've never seen that kid run so fast without me chasing him. But you're probably wondering what this has to do with eyes. I was really stretching for a good lead-in to my Target story. Anyway.

We were at the checkout and I stupidly thought TAte was standing right behind me. Why I would think that when it has never, EVER been true I do not know. But I turn around and see him about four check-out lanes over, in the little space where the checker-outer stands with the scan gun in his hand. He then proceeds to scan his eyeball over and over. I'm thinking that shooting a laser gun straight into one's cornea isn't the most sensible move to make, so I boogie over there and pry the gun out of his hand. What ensues? Why, screaming and kicking, of course! Well, hopefully he'll thank me later when his retina ISN'T falling out due to prolonged exposure to searing lights.

I decide to prolong my torture session and head to the grocery store. On the way there I start to notice that sickly sweet smell of baby poo permiating the car. Great. I pull into the parking lot and lay Nora on the floor to change her quick. Well, I hook two fingers inside the waistband of her pants to pull them down, take my fingers out and happen to notice that they are completely dripping with poo. Upon closer inspection, the poo is all down her legs, up her back, and thanks to her grabbing onto my hand, all over her fingers which leads to being all over her face. Oh, and there's a nice batch of poo soup puddling in the seat of her carseat.

Since I don't believe in ever being prepared for such situations, I had no spare clothes for Nora, only about 4 wet wipes, and nothing to get the damn poo off my hands. So I plop the poor kid back in poo soup and drive home to do damage control. Luckily the store is only about a mile from our house. Tate is fine during all this, singing his latest favorite little ditty, which is "Mamma Mia" by ABBA. He like to switch it up and say things like "Dadda Mia! Spencer Mia! Baby Mia!" Apparently we all belong to him.

Anyway, we got through that little incident unscathed. Today Tate and Eric are going to the Brewers game in Milwaukee while Nora and I hit the neighborhood block party. Everyone has to dress up in '80s gear and I got the MOST kickass dress ever. Bright teal, silk, huge sequined thingie on the shoulder, shoulder pads, shirred bodice, etc. I look like I should be pushing some broad into the pool on "Dynasty". Totally hot. Or should I say gnarly.