Fleas and soccer and ceiling wax

You know that line in Puff the Magic Dragon, "and brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff?" And from The Walrus and the Carpenter - "of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax, of cabbages and kings?" The whole time I was growing up, I thought it was ceiling wax, in both cases, as if there were some kind of special wax used just on ceilings. I wonder how many other things there are like that, that I still have wrong in my head.

I really, really need to invest in some kind of convenient recording device, because I have a ton of thoughts in the car every day that I feel, at the time, urgently need to be shared with the world. If not to enrich the world, at least to get them the hell out of my head, because god knows I need the room. Of course, one might argue that I have gotten the thoughts out of my head, as I can't remember them now, but now I'm using valuable mental energy trying to dredge them up. I think the problem is that I seem to be living entirely in the present. I think that sleep deprivation has pushed me into survival mode, in which I must dispense with luxuries like, you know, thoughts of past and future.

For example, right now I'm watching Wife Swap, and all I can think is what the hell is wrong with people. This show is such a train wreck, and I can't stop watching. I think it underscores the insufficiency of putting oneself in others' shoes - I literally can NOT imagine what moves these people. Did you guys see this one, with the family that thinks they're pirates? Like actual pirates. And their house had fleas, and the dad's response was that there weren't too MANY fleas, like that makes it okay. And did you further know that it is nearly impossible, at least for me, to type the word "fleas" without adding an "e" to the end? Flease. Flease, flease, flease.

In other news, I am officially a soccer mom. My five year old has started soccer, and while he plays in games with fun-to-watch enthusiasm, his attitude during the less thrilling moments of drills and practice is more like my own approach to athletics. A sort of "where is the couch and snack" approach. Poor guy. I'm glad we're starting him in sports early, maybe he can overcome congenital laziness. It's hard to keep a straight face and encourage him to keep going when he's lying flat on his back in the middle of the field, plucking blades of grass and sprinkling them on himself.

This is exceedingly random, but I'm being distracted by my other favorite train wreck, Supernanny. This woman is still wiping her 7 year old's butt after every poop. I love this show, it is such a self-esteem booster. I'm just sure I had loads of other mental minutiae to sprinkle across this post, but this will have to be it for now. Thanks, by the way, to everyone who commented on my last post - it is reassuring to realize I'm not alone in occasionally loathing my offspring. The last few days have been better, and I choose to believe that it's a trend.