peek-a-boo

Harriet, my 17 month old that never seems to stop moving, has the unbelievable ability to not move at all when she wants to.

When she gets shy or nervous, or more recently I discovered, embarrassed, she will go into what we have deemed 'statue mode'.  She will just completely freeze with her eyes towards the ground until the feeling, or the culprit, passes.  It could be a few seconds or a couple minutes.

Please do not challenge Harriet to a staring contest.  If you do, for god's sakes, don't put money on it.  She will win.

On a recent 4hour car trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house Harriet displayed another of her skills.  The Peek-a-Boo Master.  Every hour or so she would call out "Dada, Dada!"  Mike would look at her in the rear view mirror, she would giggle and then hide behind something.  Mike would call out, "Harriet, Harriet, where are you?" or variations of that a dozen or so times.  She never moved a muscle.  I am telling you she remained perfectly still for 11 minutes.  She didn't peek, didn't lower her arms, didn't budge!

Would you watch a game show called 'Baby Peek-a-Boo Ninjas' ?  I think I might have the first contestant.

behind a crest white strips wrapper--11 minutes

behind her sister's beverly cleary book--7 minutes

behind a toy cell phone--9 minutes

behind some book about a frog--6 minutes

boots! there it is

I was recently reading that Bethenny Frankel, a normal gal just like me (??)  sold her Skinnygirl Margarita company for 120 million dollars.  It was just a simple idea that took off like crazy and has made her a very rich woman.

I started thinking "Where's my 120 million dollar idea?".  I have spent my life inventing stupid things and coming up with ideas all the time but never actually following through.  Well folks, that wait is over.  I think my time has finally come.

Introducing...The Boot Shack!!  

How many times a day do you think, "Gosh, I wish I didn't have to have those filthy, dirty, rainboots that are muddy from the yard and the garden in my back hallway.  There's got to be a better way!"

I figured the best solution would be to be able to leave the boots outside.  I needed a way to turn them, and keep them, upside down so they could just get rinsed off in the rain instead of filled up by it.  I drew a little sketch, sent Mike to the hardware store, and voila!  It works!

Mike used some dowels, a drill press (borrowed from a neighbor), and a 1x4 piece of wood.  I assembled it with Gorilla Glue and it was as easy as that.  I am still working on my marketing plan but I am prepared to sell fives of these so just let me know if you are interested.  I have also been working on some alternate names.  So far I have das Boot, Boot Shack, Rainboot Roundup, and Booty Wall.  Suggestions welcome--but don't think you are going to get a cut of my 120 mill.

before assembling

side view.  ours sits right outside our back door.

one pair for each person in our family.  can be customized

for yours, unless you are the Duggars.

my spokesmodel working in her boots in the garden

and possibly sketching out the next big idea

angry birds

*

"I have kind of a bird thing..." is what I usually say to people I don't know well enough to reveal my full spectrum of insanity to.

Truth be told, I have been terrified of birds for as long as I can remember.  Of course, I blame this on my mother.  Encouraging Allowing me to watch Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds at age 6 was not good for a girl like me.  I have always been jumpy, easily spooked, and fearful of being stabbed by something sharp and alive that flies at me through the air.  Seeing this movie did not reduce any of these personality traits.

For most of my life I have been able to keep my phobia under wraps.  In some situations though it is inevitably revealed.

There was the time I was at the beach with a friend and the people next to us started feeding the seagulls (why?!?!?!?).  As they gathered by what seemed like the hundreds, screeching, I just started running for cover leaving all my belongings behind hoping she would bring them to the car.  

There are times when I'm walking with someone and I have to make up an excuse to cross the street to avoid a pigeon.  Those fuckers can pounce at any time.  

There was the time I went into the garage while holding Eloise in her infant seat and realized there was a tiny sparrow that had gotten caught in there and was flying around frantically.  I set the baby on the floor, leaving her for dead, and ran screaming out of the garage.  

When I am walking hand in hand with Eloise I will sometimes, having been spooked by something, squeeze her hand so suddenly and so hard. 

 She knows me well enough now to just say, "Mom, what did you see?"  

"A Mourning Dove."

I have a pretty good sense of humor about the whole bird thing.  I know it is crazy and that birds don't attack and even if they do it is a once in a lifetime thing and very unusual.  At least that is what I thought until recently.  

You see, in 2001 I was swooped by a red winged blackbird while standing in line at Cedar Point Amusement Park with Mike.  He thought it was hilarious because in our early dating stage I hadn't revealed my bird crazies.  I went to the bathroom and cried for 20 minutes after that happened.  Normal.  Then I told him that no one in my family would believe me about the 'attack' and he would have to write an affidavit or something.  He agreed and I think I married him for that moment.  I still have that piece of paper and here it is:

Proving the fact that this was not an isolated incident, but instead some sort of torturous punishment for my hatred of birds, I was attacked by a red-winged blackbird again last week at the zoo.  

I was pushing Harriet in the stroller and walking with Eloise up the ramp to the carousel.  I was wearing a baseball hat and my glasses.  Suddenly, out of nowhere,  I feel this flapping and fluttering and hear a buzzing and squawking on the back of my head.  I realized what was happening and launched in to what was probably described by onlookers as an epileptic seizure.  This seizure, however,  included me shouting "what the fuck?" repeatedly in front of my children while ducking, swatting, and losing all control of my limbs.  Also,  I had let go of the stroller containing my own flesh and blood.  I mentioned we were on a ramp, right?  During my seizure, I managed to knock off my hat and my glasses rendering me now blind and vulnerable.  Well who do you think came back for more?  

The second swoop.  More furious fluttering and flapping, more swearing, swatting, and now running.  I was praying to God that there was no one in the vicinity with a video camera.  I finally made it up to the ticket taker booth and screamed at the man in the booth, breathlessly.  "What the hell is going on?" He calmly told me the birds do that to everyone that walks by because they are nesting right now.  Ummm.  I was there for 20 more minutes waiting for and then riding the carousel.  I saw no other attacks.  

We left the zoo by running quickly to the car and for about 6 more hours I could not get the feel or sound of that bird's feet and beak and flapping wings out of my mind.  It is still haunting me at night--and during the day.  

A quick google search told me all I needed to know about these birds.  They nest during the month of June and are fiercely protective during this time.  Emphasis on fierce.  They also hate nearly 6 feet tall women with freckles.  I don't think any of you need to worry though, it seems I am the only one they want.  I have decided to stay indoors during the month of June from here on out. 

 I think that should do it.  

Sign posted at the zoo.

Understatement of the year.