Hey folks, don't forget bout my cool little contest. And also, since I failed to notice that it was ending on the weekend — and what about people who don't read blogs on the weekend?? — I'm extending the context until midnight PST Tuesday, December 19th. GO!

Jay and his family live in Seattle and they have lost power in the huge storm. It sounds like they have electric heat since MetroDad says they could really use some firewood. If you are in the area and have some to share go grab his cell number and let him know.

All I could think about when I was flipping through this book was how hilarious the outtakes must have been! Everything from your classic golfball in the nuts, to public skateboarding disasters.

Your task, should you choose to enter this contest, is to write about a funny disaster that happened when you were trying to be cool. It is OK if it didn't happen to you. It doesn't have to be sports-related. It is even OK if the story is made-up, but you need to make me believe it really happened ;)

Basically, make me laugh and win this book and 3 DVDs! Ties for hilarity will be judged by the volume of coffee that comes out my nose. Extra points if I literally "fall down" laughing. Points deducted for making me go to the emergency room. So walk that line.

Details:

1. Post your entry on your blog and link to this post.
2. Email me so I know you've entered.
3. Get this done by midnight PST December 19th! 17th. THAT'S LESS THAN THREE DAYS!

So, um. Rock-on dudes!

As we were waiting for Chip's cataract surgery to get started he went ballistic when I put the hospital gown on him. To be fair, I wouldn't have been happy either — it was really new and scratchy. But even so, we decided that if new clothes pissed him off, he'd really freak out about the mask they were going to use to put him under. So we let them give him some Versed — repeatedly described to us as "like baby Valium."

And no, none was on tap for the parents.

We did the fast-squirt-it-in-the-cheek dispensing method because apparently it is very bitter. (They know it is bitter. They tell you "he won't like this, it is bitter." WHY THE HELL CAN'T THEY MAKE IT TASTE BETTER? Get those crack teams that make dogfood taste "meatier" (ew) on the problem.) But I digress.

As she was leaving the nurse said it would take 15-20 minutes to take effect, but by that time Chip was already snuggled up close to me and looking like he'd had a few too many.

Skip ahead to 20 minutes later… If he could have, he would have been shouting "I love you man! I really do! No, it's not the meds, I really, really love you!"

He was giggling and stumbling around. He would grab a kleenex, wave it in the air and shout "WIPE!" and crack himself up. The doctor came in, saw Chip rolling around on the floor and asked "How are you feeling?" Chip threw back his curly head, yelled "GOOOOD!" and giggled. It was hilarious.

Robbie was being cranky and stomping around the house. He was looking for words to express the pissed-offness he felt all the way down to the corners of his soul. So he busts out with "I want to talk to strangers!"

I think this is the 4-year-old equivalent of "fuck you and the horse you rode in on," but I'd need a dictionary to be certain.

Mike, always the helpful big brother, says "if you talk to strangers you will be boiled into food. Do you want to be boiled into food? Then don't talk to strangers."

I'm in agreement with the conclusion, natch, but I feel like I need to find out what has been discussed at their preschool lately…

Chip is pissed as hell that he's got this freaking huge thing taped over his eye, but with a dose of Benadryl he becomes less concerned about it ;) The surgery lasted about 1.5 hours and he was in recovery for 2 hours.

And by "in recovery" I mean "screaming and writhing." That kid is STRONG. He really didn't enjoy waking up from anesthesia, but that's apparently the way it goes for the toddler set.

So like I say, more later when I'm coherent (LONG day), but everything went as it should. So yay Chip!

I'm going to be running around a lot today and (gasp) not around my computer much. So I thought I'd leave you with this photo.

I remember this book from when my sisters were kids. It is so sweet, and of course today it makes me cry. I'm such a feeb ;)

OK, I'll admit it, I'm kind of cranky and stressed out today, but this made me laugh so hard I couldn't breathe. Thanks Karrie, just what I needed!

In the spirit of flipping completeley the freak out over Chip's cataract surgery tomorrow, I have compiled a list of "Pros" for me to remember.

1. He'll be able to see out of his right eye. (OK, this is probably the biggest pro.)
2. The surgery will be done by an expert. That's his smiling face over there —->
3. Chip will stop rubbing his right eye trying to get the cataract out himself.
4. Normal vision development will no longer be affected.
5. In the scope of bad "things" that can happen to your child, being born with an operable cataract while living 30 minutes away from a renowned specialist is low on the scale.
6. The worst part for me will be waiting for the procedure to be over. The worst part for Chip will be having a freaking eye protector glued over his eye for 24 hours. Neither of those are the end of the world.
7. I'll get to learn about getting a toddler to keep his glasses on. (OK, not so much of a pro, but I'm trying to get myself psyched up about it!)

So, if you don't hear from me tomorrow I'm just busy driving people around, waiting around, more driving, and then praying that everyone just goes to bed so I can lie on the floor and stare up at the ceiling in silence. Wish me luck ;)