Waco Wednesday (Not Whacko Wednesday)

What is Waco Wednesday? Waco Wednesday is when you have to move Taco Tuesday (your toddler's favorite day of the week -- BIG fan of taco dinners) to Wednesday nights and because you enjoy alliteration you have to call it Waco Wednesday.

So, here's what happened on Waco Wednesday:

Tova had her first bath! Don't worry, we've been cleaning her prior to today but we've been taking her in the shower with us. She loves the shower. As you can see, we plunked her in this emesis basin that I liberated from the hospital and she hung on to my scarf for dear life the entire time. I thought she'd be really into the bath considering it was just 2-1/2 weeks ago that she was floating around in her own little hot-tub 24/7. Turns out, Tova wasn't that into it.

After tacos we made sugar cookies in holiday and Michigan cut-outs.

Petra doesn't like getting ucky-blucky.

Tova had to take a break at the milk bar in between cookie cutting. This old cow didn't mind, though, too much standing involved in cookie making.

Annike added some of her own flair by squishing the raw cut-outs with her fingers.

What I don't have a picture of is my husband, the microbiologist by training and trade, who has set up a science lab in our kitchen and is brewing huge amounts of beer. Our home's thermostat is set at 72 degrees right now and there is an overwhelming odor of bread dough and burning molasses and something a little sharp and cheesy smelling, can't quite place it. Can you picture it?

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. 9-years of happily wedded bliss as well as a few, regrettable rabble rousing screaming matches in which I ingeniously thought up of at least 100 kid-friendly ways to call my partner an ass. One thing I've learned from this marriage is that I'm a real champ at making up words, I've also learned that the people who publish the Scrabble Dictionary are stubborn punks because just what is not to like about the word 'blondidity'? TYVM. Anyhow, the Larsmeister and I have a date at the hair salon together (Tova is going too, BFing every 90-minutes, you understand doncha?). Now how darn cute is that? Lars is going all business style on his head and I'm going back to blond -- my hair seemed to turn brown while I was in the hospital. I just can't figure it out. It's pretty tough on my poor little ego since I've always been fiercely protective over my natural blondidity. Can one go from being a natural blond to natural blah in a matter of 2-1/2 weeks? Does this mean I'm not really blond anymore? Agog! I am simply agog! In a time like this it's best to turn to the amazing and stupendous Dolly Parton, in all her boobied gloriness, to lift me out of my hair despair. Do you know what Dolly Parton once said during an interview when asked how she felt about being labeled as a dumb blond? She said, "I know I'm not dumb . . . I also know I'm not blond." Yepperdoo, so's I guess dats about alls I gots to say fer now.

Editorial note: after posting this blog, I realized that I misused the word "agog", really what I should have used was the word "aghast," but I'm not going to change it because: 1) now you all know what I meant, 2) agog is a great sounding word, like when I say it it sounds to me like a noise a fluffy, pasty white, 50-something, Martha's Vineyard tourist might make as she is horking up a piece of dry bread at a restaurant after learning about some astounding news, like OMG your fantasy luvva George Michaels is gay! . . . you follow?, 3) I really like corny musicals circa mid-20th century (which is from whence I first learned this fab word). So, we cool?

Umm, did I just misuse "from whence"? Don't tell me, I don't wanna know.