Dear Smelly 1984 Mazda In Front of Me at the Toll Booth:
I totally get that you are saving a lot of money by owning a car older than you. And I’m sure that you think you’re saving on gas by driving a small car, but whatever you’re saving in gas is being spent on refilling your oil. I’m not sure who smells more, you or me, but at least I have my Smart Tag/EZ-Pass and don’t make cars wait behind me at the toll booth, stinkin’ all over them. You, obviously, didn’t get the memo.

Sinerely,
A Concerned (about gagging in her lap from your smell) Driver

Dear Little Green Elantra Sporting the “Watch More Anime” Sticker:
After freeing myself from behind our smelly friend above, I was blessed enough to drive behind you for several miles. Judging from your distinct driving style, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you watched too much anime.
You seemed to think that jersey walls were for banking corners where there were no corners, and I’m quite sure I saw that your eyes were bugged out taking up four-fifths of your face. Maybe you actually were an anime.

Kindest Regards,
Pikachu Colleen

Dear HOV Enforcement Officer:
I want to thank you for pulling me over yesterday morning as I was flying down the HOV lane, Cooper safely ensconced in his carseat behind me. I know I have passed you nearly every day in the past two weeks because last week as I shot by you at 70mph while you were standing outside your squad car counting heads in passing cars, you hopped up onto the doorframe of your car to better see my rear-facing infant. I would like to think that after seeing me all those times and craning your neck every time I passed you, that you would remember a hot-lookin’ lady in her smelly blue car and vanity plates. I would also like to think you pulled me over just to get a better look at me and had your heart crushed when you saw my wedding ring. So thanks for makin’ my day and letting me see your sweet 20-year old face. And then ruining it by calling me Ma’am.

All My Love Lukewarm Feelings,
A Totally Lawful HOT HOV Driver

To All the Drivers Who Stayed Home Today:
I love you for staying home for whatever your reasons. I was able to get to work, and swing by McDonald’s for some breakfast, in under an hour. There were no reported accidents on my entire route the entire day. I was able to get home without sitting through 6 cycles of a particular light. And for that…MWAH! MWAH!
Now if all of you could just stay home for the rest of my tenure at my current employer, I would really appreciate it. And so would my gas mileage. And my family (nothing like a happy mommy!).

Lots of Love and Tender Hugs,
A Very Happy and Content Mommy Driver

To My “Suns Out, Guns Out” Construction Worker:
I miss you! The End.

I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer be naked in front of Gavin.

I actually should’ve decided and acted on this about a year ago. I was very pregnant and Gavin was just 3 years old. Usually if I was the only one home with Gavin, I would wait until he took a nap to squeeze in a shower because I couldn’t quite trust him to stay put in front of the TV, particularly if I had to shave (which was a really lengthy process when trying to find your legs somewhere under a big ol’ belly). So on this particular day, he’s sleeping and I jump in the shower. I’m about half done and he comes in the bathroom. I just want to finish my shower with out worrying about what he’s getting into, so I ask him if he wants to come in the shower with me and open the shower door.
G: yucky! (he points just under my belly, towards my crotch)
I look down, but of course can only see this massive belly:

Me: what do you mean “yucky”, buddy?
G: poopie! (he points at my crotch again)
Me: what do you mean “poopie?!” (craning neck to see around my belly and to look on the shower floor to see if my water broke or if I was bleeding or if I lost control of my bowels. Nope.)
G: yucky poopie, mommy. need wipe. (continuing to point at my crotch, this time a little closer)
I look around the massive belly and see he is pointing at my pubic hair! He thinks the wet hair is poop! I start laughing so hard I slip and nearly fall in the shower, which gets me laughing harder. Not knowing what I’m laughing at, Gavin leaves the bathroom to go play trains.
That was a year ago. Since then I’ve been in front of Gavin in various states of undress and he’s not said anything. When nursing Cooper, he once asked what I was doing. I answered simply, “I’m feeding Cooper. Cooper is eating.” Content with that answer, Gavin went back playing. Periodically if he was paying attention to me and/or Cooper, he’d point out that “Cooper eatin’” anytime I was nursing him. But he never seemed to notice that my shirt was half-off, or if he was in our room while I was getting ready in the morning, he never said anything.
That all changed Monday morning. I had just gotten out of the shower and Gavin came in and was talking to me as I dried off. Out of nowhere, he points at my crotch.
G: whas dis?
Me: uh, hair.
G: (eyes me suspiciously, looks at the hair on my head, then back at my crotch) dats hair??
Me: yes. hair.
G: (pointing at my boob) whas dis, mommy? you have red on you belly?
Me: that’s mommy’s breast.
G: mommy’s bwest?
Me: yes. now go play find daddy and play with your toys. out. wrap towel around body and ushers Gavin out of the bathroom.

Any of you have any good stories of your child discovering your nakedness?

I’m too hot to write. As you can see below, Cooper’s so hot his hair started curling! And further down I am attempting to psych everyone into feeling cooler by seeing Gavin planting flowers with me and blowing bubbles in the cold rain Mother’s Day weekend.
(And Burgh?…just thought I’d remind you about rocks and glass houses and such…)

and is it just me, or is seeing Gavin in his orange and navy gettup in the cold make you want to make a pot of chili and watch a Bears game? No? Really? Just me? Okay.

So I was going to put this cute post here about our DC Bloggers trip to the National Zoo but my dearest darlingest husband scooped me while I was at Target desperately searching for Teething Tablets! WTH? And because I’m lazy and can’t re-write the post I had in my head, you’ll just have to live with the link to Justin’s page (he has pics!).
I will add that I did enjoy our trip, even if Gavin ate more than a hippo and Cooper whined piteously because we were negligent and left his binky in the truck (and by “we” I mean “Justin”). It was neat to put faces to the names (and real names, in some cases). I enjoyed meeting the kids and husbands I had read about and even Justin enjoyed himself. I think he and Caramama’s hubby, Londo, got on famously and may be planning some sort of husband-of-mommy-bloggers date. And while we have like 80 other pictures than the ones posted at Justin’s site, since they contained these other bloggers and their families, we wanted to be sure to respect their privacy. So send a self-addressed-stamped envelope to me with $20 inside and I will relinquish copies of the pictures to you.

Oh, I will leave you with this: should you ever drive to the National Zoo and can’t get a spot in the lot, please please please for the love of Beaujolais, park south (downhill) from the Zoo. Somehow the National Zoo defies all laws of physics and seems to be uphill in all directions. Make it easy on yourself and walk downhill to your car after all that hiking. Your hips and calves will thank you (and me).

Anyone for some egg-nog? get it? egg noggin? egg nog? no? uh. ok. ahem.

Well, here it is in all its glory…Cooper’s first major head injury. Apparently while crawling at school, and being cheered on by a couple teachers and director staff, he started showing off and laughing so hard that his hands slipped out and he landed on his face. And we don’t even have any pictures scheduled!

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On an unrelated note, I am very excited to be joining a bunch of other folks from the DC mom-blog community (bloggers, their families, and readers) at the National Zoo tomorrow.