Can I Help You?

We went to an event at church tonight, and Kate conked out at the end (as she does).  Because Heather brought her straight there, she had her backpack with her.  We also brought me a chair so that I wouldn't have to sit on the ground (informal seating and RA do not go together).  So, after Cam had put the backpack on (with the straps adjusted to the size of a tallish seven-year-old), he picked up the sleeping kid in all her floppiness, and tried to get the chair.  I was having a fun game of see-how-long-it-takes-Cam-to-get-frustrated when Gavin (he of the killer sideburns) stepped in and offered to carry the chair.  Then I asked Cam to carry my purse.  Because I'm evil.
We got out to the car, got the chair into the trunk, and bid farewell and thank-you to Gavin.  Cam got Kate into the back seat, and I climbed into the driver's seat.  After a few seconds, Cam came around to my window and knocked on it.  Thinking that maybe he wanted to drive, I rolled down the window and said, "MmmYes?  Can I help you?"  His response, with a very hangdog look:  "I can't get the backpack off."
Now, a thoughtful wife would get out of the car and help him.  As has already been discussed, I'm an evil wife.  I laughed for about two minutes straight as he wiggled and thrashed and finally freed himself from the backpack.

Yummy Smells (and not so yummy)

I love the little scented wax melts that make your whole house smell good.

So, I'm getting one going today, and I asked Kate which one I should use.

Me: Warm Vanilla Creme?

Cam: Potato?

Me: Cinnamon Stick?

Cam: Wet Dog?

Me:  Ignore him.  Gingerbread?

Cam: Sweaty Sailor?

Kate: I like the Vanilla one.  It smells like the ice cream bars I like.

I love how my kid joined me in ignoring the weirdo behind us and continued on with choosing a smell.

Rub *what* on my back?

So, last night, I was achy.  (If you haven't gotten the news, I have Fibromyalgia and Rheumatoid Arthritis, and it's hitting mostly in my upper back and neck.)
Cam: You want me to rub some of that Aspartame into your back?
Me: I don't recommend rubbing any artificial sweetener into someone's skin.
(It's called Aspercreme.  It's like BenGay, but unscented.)

Lice Shampoos - A Brand Comparison

So.  My kid had head lice.  Emphasis on the word *had*.  Once we discovered the nasty little buggers, I made a beeline for the pharmacy and got this.

You're supposed to repeat the treatment after 10 days, so I went out today to get another kit.  This time, I went for the generic, store-brand one.  Mistake.

Both kits were three-step.  A shampoo, a gel to help the lice comb get through the hair, and a spray that can be used on carpets and mattresses.  I looked at the active ingredients, and they were the same and in the same amounts, so I figured "Hey.  Might was well save a few bucks."

While the active ingredients in the two products were the same, the inactive ingredients differed enough to make it worth the few extra bucks.  First of all, the smell.  The store-brand shampoo smelled like I remembered as a kid: medicinal and strong.  The RID shampoo smelled like... shampoo.  Light and a little floral.  If I had a boy, he might mind smelling pretty, but no problem for a girl.  Second, the combing gel.  It's a great idea.  When you go to meticulously comb through every bit of your kid's hair with the finest-toothed comb ever, this gel helps prevent icky tangles.  In the store-brand kit, not so much.  Lots of ouches and pulling, and quite a bit of shed hair.  And it smelled bad, too.

I can't say much towards the difference in effectiveness for one reason: the RID did the job the first time.  It killed every single one of those buggers and their eggs and let me comb them out on day one.  I checked her daily, and saw nothing.  I re-did the treatment today with the store-brand kit, and still nothing.  It may very well work just as well as the RID.  There were just no bugs to kill this time.

While I cross my fingers and plead with heaven never to have to go through this again (and put tea tree oil in her shampoo)... if I do, I'm shelling out the few extra bucks for the good stuff.

How very Zen.

Kate's playing her new Wii game, PokePark (and I'll have to do another post about how cool it is), and she's just kinda running back and forth over the same stretch of bridge.
Me:  Where are you going?
Kate:  Somewhere.  Everyone's going somewhere.
Me: How very Zen of you.

The Potatoes of Doom

This one's for those sweet teenagers at church that watch my kid on Friday nights.  You know who you are.

Our church has a bible-study-thing-that-defies-definition on Friday nights.  Ish.  We call ourselves The Difference.  For now.  Aaaanyways... child care is provided.  With the exception of one wonderful woman (who also happens to provide daily child care for my kid), the nursery on Friday nights is staffed by teenagers.  A few weeks ago, Kate happened to be the only kid there, and there were two teenage guys there to watch her.  Poor guys.  Cam and I sent her off, snickering to ourselves, wondering just how badly she would scar them.
About an hour later, one of the guys comes in, plops down a picture that was obviously drawn by my kid, and says, "Amy, your daughter has a wild misconception of the general shape of potatoes."  (And a thank-you to Adam for writing that quote down for me.)

So this morning, Kate comes into the living room and announces:
"I'm making a holiday book of the potatoes of doom."
I turned to Cam and said, "She's your kid."
It's about holidays for potatoes.

There are many things that amuse me about this story.
- That a teenage guy not yet out of high school can put together the phrase "wild misconception of the general shape of potatoes".  Hope for the future, man.
- That my kid can remember something that happened over a month ago and decide to turn it into a project.
- That, no matter how pesky Kate can get, he still agrees to watch her.  Yes, I know the church pays him, but there's no hazard pay involved.
- I don't know if we say it enough, but... you're a cool kid, Gavin.

Of course, you did.

Flower and Note

I spent about eight hours at the church last night helping make a massive batch of tamales. 

When I got home, this was waiting on my nightstand.

D'aaaw.  I guess I'll keep her.