with this much hot air
am afraid the whole midwest
might just float away

Andrew Shue on news
a new reality show?
D-List politics

brownie or blondie
it is more than bake sale choice
will winner be sweet?

Texans bide their time
this one year out of many
primary may count

it’s too close to call
ask what would LBJ do?
find "missing" ballots

haiku politics
just as boring as real thing
someone cut me off

waiting marathon
question not how sick are you
how sick can you get

you arrive early
they ignore you anyway
reception bitches

doctor is quite nice
eczema not quite so nice
thank goodness for pants

The wee-er one’s stats: 10-25% for weight, 25-50% for height, 50-75% for head circumference. She is a petite, big-headed gal, with dry skin and a penchant for shaking in terror at the doctor’s office – just like her mama.

Undoubtedly, these are all things she will be elated about when she gets older.

Sock in water bowl
The hell is it doing there?
Blame dog. Blame baby.

hmmm? what is that sound?
BCS is imploding
like Vegas hotel

every time I cough
a little escaping fart
makes me butt of jokes

Ten Commandments, boo
Our Easter movie of choice?
Cole Trickle, oh yeah

babe finds laptop cord
Easter electrocution
not on "to do" list

kind of blasphemous
admitting truth feels good, though
jelly beans are gross

baby’s first Easter
hope bunny won’t be too mad
no chocolate yet

thirty-five, raining
Easter eggs easy to find
when they’re not outside

sleeting Easter Eve
we Texas folks scratch our heads
pull out Christmas trees

Seriously. I can’t believe it’s sleeting outside right now. Easter in Austin is a time for white shorts and new Keds and the neighborhood swimming pools to open. I don’t know what to do about this weather, other than watch the pond across the street steam like a hot tub. Maybe the Easter Bunny borrowed Santa’s sleigh and needs some ice to get around. I have no idea what’s going on.

At least the eggs won’t rot when we lose them in the backyard!

to tide you over
until food and time settles
old turkey haiku!

pie filling tastes of
relatives’ holiday stress
eat store-bought instead

grandmother’s china
filled with turkey and gravy
all it’s ever known

Thanksgiving morning
It’s time for the parade! For
us all to ignore!

ah, sweet potatoes
please do not be mad that I
like your topping best

stuffing or dressing
a debate for the ages
‘cept that dressing wins

broccoli and rice
with butter, cheese and butter
and Phazyme sprinkles

on this occasion
will football be allowed, or
must I talk to you?

is ceiling leaking?
had eyes closed, felt drip on face
oh, it’s wee one’s snot

I’m having this guilt problem right now. It seems like all I do is express irritation with the wee one. I’ve turned into one of those harpy moms, I think.

"Please don’t do that."
"Hey! Stop screaming when you talk."
"I don’t care if ninja turtles make that noise, that noise gets little boys a timeout."
"Don’t put your penis on your sister."
"Sit closer to the table when you eat."
"Why did you throw clean clothes on the floor?"
"Licking other people’s hands is gross. Stop it."
"Can you wash your stinky feet, please?"
"Tooty McTootsalot can’t sit next to me in the car right now. Sorry."
"Well, if you can’t find your shoes, you can’t go outside."
"Clean up the melted popsicle, don’t STEP on it."
"You have to tell me what you want, I can’t read your mind."
etc.

I feel like all I ever do is nag and point out things that drive me crazy. I try to make sure I compliment him when I’m not nagging, and I try to make sure I explain my exasperated harangues ("If you don’t sit closer to the table, the cheese from your pasta falls on the floor, and then the dog eats it, and it gives him an ear infection because of his allergies and we don’t want that, right?)

But frankly, I’m tired of of having to explain myself to a four-year-old. I want him to LISTEN TO ME. I only want to have to ask him things ONE TIME. I want him to learn from one day to the next to STOP DOING THE SAME THINGS OVER AND OVER. I, Me, Myself, The Grownup – I AM THE MOMMY.

But timeouts only go so far. And a timeout for dropping cheese on the floor when he seems to genuinely have forgotten to sit closer to the table seems ridiculous. So I nag. And I hate it. I hate how my voice sounds doing it. And I’m sure it’s just as unpleasant for other people to listen to, as well.

This is what you have to do though, right? This is what you do to raise a possibly upstanding citizen, right? You teach him right from wrong. You teach him about consequences. You teach him to make decisions on his own – to think about things before doing them. But I have to adopt that tone to get him to listen – you know the one, the mom-in-movies tone. The nag tone.

Bleh.

I hate the nagging mom tone. If the nagging mom tone was a cell phone ring, no one would have cell phones (note to self: investigate making this happen). But I guess I have to do it. It sort of works and that’s better than not working at all. And it’s better than raising a person who never thinks about other people. But I hope it gets better. I feel like such a drag. And don’t tell me moms have to be a drag. There has to be a happy medium somewhere. Right? Right?

humping Volkswagen
whatever gets the job done
doc says to try it

to induce or not
it shouldn’t be so tempting
yet it really is

five days til due date
not enough Zantac to last
the heck will I do?

nursery: all set
cervix: is raring to go
baby: just chillin’

secret easter tryst
in dark closet, exploring
stolen bunny cake

easter day madness
non-stop talking, darting eyes
j. beans laced with meth?

pink spiral slices
ignore all Wilbur questions
eat very quickly

very many dyes
very, very many eggs
that no one will eat

helpful note for you:
deformed, trunk-melted bunny
is traumatizing