I wish I'd said that!

Disclaimer: There is a bit of "adult" language in this post, so proceed (or not) accordingly.


I love a good joke as much as anyone, and really appreciate people who have a strong sense of humor. I find a lot of types of humor funny, and can appreciate the dry wit of our church band director (hats off to you, Lee) just as much as the obstinate delivery of the late George Carlin.

I don't mind a little blue language (though I have limited patience for the over-use of the f-word) and think some jokes just wouldn't be the same without an occasional "shit" or "damn" thrown in for flavor. (Disclaimer #2: My mother did NOT encourage this type of behavior when my sisters and I were practicing our joke-telling skills as children.)

But what gets me the most is when I hear a funny comment made and think, "Man -- I wish I'd said that!!!" I love it -- and hate it -- when someone else is so funny that they took the words right out of my mouth! I'd love to take credit for all of the funny comments made around this house but I've realized, since Declan's language skills have taken off, I no longer have the market on witty remarks.

However, it wasn't Declan who had me holding my sides last night -- it was Jim. Those of you who know him won't be surprised, because you already know he's funny; but he really caught me off-guard. We had just finished watching CSI (one of our few TV guilty pleasures; we rarely get to watch anything together unless we record the show and watch it later) and Jim was channel-surfing just a bit. He said he needed to grade papers; I was doing some online bill pay. But we both were curious as to what else was on.

He landed on ABC, just at the end of Grey's Anatomy, (guilty pleasure show #2 -- which always has to be taped because it's on opposite CSI) and they were showing previews for an all-new episode, set to air next week. Those of you who follow GA already know what a soapy drama it is, and you know the previews often tease at things that never happen...but, if you're like me, they still suck you in.

Well, this one sucked me right in, because it looked like Dr. Shepherd (a.k.a "McDreamy"; played by Patrick Dempsey) was ignoring orders from the Chief, and the clip showed him walking away at the end -- as if he's going to quit and walk right out of Seattle Grace.

My immediate reaction was, "WTF?! They can't let McDreamy go...he's the whole show...what will they do without him...OMG!...this has got to be some type of trick...I won't watch it if he's not on it...I mean, I know McSteamy is hot too, but he's an asshole...and McDreamy is just so...God, he's dreamy!"

Jim didn't miss a beat. He looked right at me and, with an expression of incredulity, exclaimed, "Holy McShit!!!"

I'm still sore from laughing.

How do you s-p-e-l-l that?

I've pretty much always been a good speller. I placed second at the all-school spelling be as a 5th grader (I lost to a 6th grader, so it was an honorable defeat) and then went on to win it the following year. Truly, as happy as I was about winning, it just wasn't a huge deal for me. I've always connected with words and letters and love reading, playing word games (I remember my dad encouraging me to play the Seek & Find puzzle with him in the daily newspaper), and learning words that are new to me. I love words so much, I even married an English professor! (Okay, that's not the only reason I married him, but hearing him read poetry to me while we were dating was pretty heady stuff!)

I know the parental model is a strong piece of a child's development, so I figured Declan would enjoy reading as well. Jim and I read daily, whether it's actual book reading, or the newspaper or a magazine. We also have a stack of books on each of our nightstands (though mine has grown too large and now is also on the floor) so I'm not surprised that Declan has started collecting them as well. He currently has a small stack on the built-in bookshelf in his room...and one full shelf to himself on our main bookcase...and a small stack on the piano bench...and 3 or 4 at the kitchen table...and a couple in the bathroom (because he truly is a Hayes when it comes to reading in that room). I moved the one that was in the middle of the hallway this morning after I tripped over it, and then took care of the one in Thane's bed so the poor pooch had a place to snooze. Most of the time I shake my head and ask myself if I'll ever get my house back...and then I just can't help but smile at how much Declan loves to read.

What I didn't expect was that Declan would understand so many of the words we spell to each other. How did he figure this stuff out so quickly? I know he knows how to spell some of his colors, because his preschool regularly sends home these little "color" song books. They say things like, "To the tune of the Itsy Bitsy Spider: B-l-u-e spells the color blue, " and so on. So, we sing them at the table, and at bath time, and pretty much any time he is awake and moving around the house because he often proclaims, "Do music, Momma!"

I'm glad he's catching on, but also now have to really watch what I'm spelling because he's grasping the context of our conversations and will fill in the blanks. I don't remember what the word was, but I was spelling something to Jim at the table the other night and Declan (who I thought was engrossed in the messiest pasta sauce moment ever) piped right up and filled in the blank for me. I must have sat there with my mouth open for a good few seconds and didn't really know how to recover. Jim and I just looked at each other, and then burst out laughing.

I can't wait until he announces to Miss Sue (his teacher) he knows how to finish spelling s-h-i-*. That will be a priceless moment! Then again, when I asked him how to spell "green" the other day, he piped right up, "B-I-N-G-O!!!" Lord, I love that kid!

Another one bites the dust...

So...I finally did it. Yup. I committed. I've always heard you should decide within the first two years of a relationship if it is going to be long-term -- or if you should call it quits altogether. The clock was ticking and I said, "I do." Ummm...wish to blog, that is.

I've mulled it over for quite some time -- probably even longer than the allotted 24 months mentioned above. I've checked out my friends' blogs. I've checked out my friends' friends' blogs. I've checked out blogs about parenting and blogs about relationships and blogs about weight loss. Oh, yeah -- and a great one about cake wrecks that is truly a favorite (hence the need to continue to check out the ones about weight loss). But I just couldn't commit to writing one myself.

What the heck could I write about? Who the heck wants to read it? Will it be anywhere near as funny as the stuff I read that other people write? Where do people come up with this stuff? Do they make it up, or is life really that crazy? What happens if I run out of stuff to say? (Okay, I know that last one is probably a longshot, but go with me here.) But the one that really stumped me...for the better part of two years: What the heck will I name my own blog?

Yup. I got hung up on a name. I can hardly believe it myself. Yet, the screen that always stopped me from going further required me to type in the name of my blog and check to see if the URL was available. Man, that felt like a load of pressure. Now I know why writing isn't something that brings home the bread and butter for me. How the heck could I write anything when I couldn't get past the title page? Sheesh!

And yet, I couldn't get Juliet out of my head. Yes, Juliet. The one from that famous love story. (Kinda appropriate to write about at the end of Valentine's Day, dontcha think???) "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Right. Got it, girlfriend. It's not the name that matters, it's what's underneath. But still...what the heck am I supposed to name this thing? And then it came to me...

I was on the phone last night, trying to correct a problem with a package I received that isn't mine. I won't go into the whole story here, because I have realized that will give me fodder for at least another blog entry or two -- so let's just say that it was a completely convoluted conversation. Near the end of it, the customer service rep I was speaking with asked a question to confirm my phone number and got things really mixed up -- and I just lost it, in a hysterical laughter kind of way. It had been a crazy day, from start to finish and I realized it was Friday the 13th as well as a full moon. I mentioned that to the guy on the other end of the phone and said something like, "I gotta shake this purple haze, " and he cracked up too.

I wish I could claim that name as an original idea, but anyone who has ever heard of Jimi Hendrix would know better. Jim's mother was an English teacher in Coldwater for years, and her students called her "Purple" with a play on her last name. Quite a few of them transferred the name to Jim and, after his mother's passing some years ago, it seemed to stick that he would be referred to that way. We play around with our last name(s) in this house all the time (and, as a Kruse, I can't tell you how many people would say stuff like "Kruse control" when I was growing up) so this is nothing new. Don't hurl when I tell you I sometimes call my hubby "Jim Hayes-i-um" and it makes him laugh. He calls me "Kruser" and I give him a light slap. :-)

After the phone call, that name just made sense. Ever since becoming a mother, I swear my brain has been taken over by aliens. I often ask Jim the same question right after the first inquiry because I didn't hear the answer. Most of the time, it's because Declan decides to hit "play" on his Elmo music book at the same time Jim answers; sometimes, it just doesn't register. I used to be organized. Things got put away in their proper places, and my floor was clean enough to eat from. Now, I feel like I've accomplished something if we're all dressed and fed, with teeth brushed and coats on before the bus comes. Some days, we even make it out the door wearing matching socks!

Since I hear most other moms with similar stories of disorganization and sleep deprivation, I know it's not unique to me. But still, I figured there had to be a better name for it than "Mommy brain" which was my old standby. I think Hendrix's "Purple Haze" (drug references aside), with a play on the last name, described it perfectly.

So, I decided to put it into print tonight. I typed in the name in the "check URL" space and held my breath while I hit the "enter" key...and found the name had been taken. Crap! After all of that time spent deliberating I finally had it and then -- BAM! The wind was taken right out of my sails. Who else could possibly have thought about naming their blog "Purple Hayes?" I mean, really -- exactly how many Jimi Hendrix fans are out there anyway?