Monday, December 29, 2008
As most of you with kids know, your lovely little ones play so nicely independently...until that phone rings. It is like Pavlov’s dog or something. As soon as it rings some internal message goes off in their brain that makes them want you....NEEEEED you so desperately that they can't seem to stop whining, hanging on you, and screaming on the floor while you try to finish your brief conversation with a person on the other line who is wondering when you started torturing peacocks in your free time, because clearly that is what they are hearing on the other line...
I was having a conversation with my mother on the phone today... (I will admit it was not brief in the least,) and Henry's little Pavlov signal shooter went off. He progressively got whinier and whinier and eventually threw himself on the ground with a giant groan. I got up to leave the room, to which his response was to also get up and follow me, smacking me on the butt the whole time.
With each smack came a request. He pretty much went through a litany of requests with each smack, from water, to bedtime, to bathroom breaks, to what ever he thought might redirect my attention to him...
I got off the phone exasperated, looked at him and said "Goodness Gracious..."
He quickly got a similar exasperated look, let out a huge sigh of relief and said:
"Goodness Gracious, I would like some water..."
a little self entitlement anyone??? Apparently they come into the world thinking they own it...wonder when they figure out that they don't?... They do right???
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
So Jamie said "You aren't going to sit and pee in that, you know how to use the potty, lets go change you"
"Well, daddy, if you are going to be snotty, I am going to turn the TV off."
I was watching Rudolph with my kids today, because it was one of my favorites, and my son is now OBSESSED with Rudolph. I think maybe because somehow he is all mixed up with the whole “Santa Jesus” and thinks that Rudolph comes with his sleigh to give presents out. (We are working on straightening him out, but this is Henry we are talking about, it ain’t easy!)
So Rudolph was created in what, the 60’s? You don’t realize how PC we are until you watch this as an adult. Jamie and I just sit and giggle, because, WOW.
Let’s just start with Santa, who is not the jolly old soul that laughs with a belly like a bowl full of Jelly. Santa is more like, well, an irritable old man, stressed about the holidays and cranky as hell. The little elves singing a Christmas song for him make him even crankier…yeah…I know….Jolly Old St. Nicholas, whatever…
And the elves…happy little elves…yeah a big what ever to that too! You have mean little two faced head elf, who when Santa is around has a happy little voice with everyone and as soon as he leaves his head turns a 360’s and he starts yelling and screaming about how worthless they all are…and he is an “anti-dentite” to boot! (Dentists everywhere are in protest to elfdom)
Then Rudolph goes for his training, and the coach, Santa and his dad all gang up on him. Yeah, that is just begging for some therapy. They call him names…The coach even says to everyone “Hey Gang, we aren’t going to let Rudolph play ANY reindeer games right???” To which everyone says RIGHT!!!!
So outcast Rudolph runs away. This is Jamie’s favorite part. Donder, starts feeling kinda bad about being such a butt head so he goes after him…and this is when Jamie says the words every time:
“And Mrs. Donder wanted to go along, but Donder said ‘This is MANS work’”
(Mind you, Jamie always looks at me with a tiny bit of fear behind his eyes when he says this, and is always sitting well across the room) But I am always vindicated because The mom and the girlfriend just wait until he leaves and then goes anyway.
Then there is the island of misfits…really? Seriously, Really???
The jack-in-the-box named Charlie just freaks me out because of me fear of clowns…*shiver* but frankly, I totally think that the cowboy on an ostrich is cool, and who wouldn’t want the spotted elephant? And, what IS wrong with that doll anyway? She looks normal to me.
Finally at the end Rudolph “grows up” (after about a day) and realizes that “Being grown up means that you can’t run away from your problems…”
To this, all I have to say, is
RUN Rudolph, RUN…Run like the wind into the 21st Century…our PC world will save you!
***Disclaimer*** I still love Rudolph, I still love all those shows, I just find it so funny to watch them with an adult eye in the 21st century, they could never get away with all that crank and meanness now...Not that there is anything wrong with that.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Let’s just start with today, I just returned from taking my grandmother to the Dr. in NH. I believe that I may have gone on the survival tips for the generational squeeze between 3 and 93...But let me just tell you, getting out of Kohl’s, with my brain still in tact, Henry still alive, and my grandmother still knowing where she was, was...well....an act of GOD.
I love my grandmother. I always feel the need to say that. I know that there are those of you out there tsk tsking me because I dare talk about her in a funny way...but you know what? It is reality and I am pretty sure that Henry will be sky writing "my mom wears Depends" when it is my turn, so I am just not going to feel too bad about it…as I always say “it is what it is."
My grandmother is starting to show her 93 years in many ways, so as most of us need, or will need when we are older, she needs a lot of assistance with getting things done. I took her Christmas shopping, so between making sure that my grandmother was following me, and my son was not too far ahead feeling the panties on a manikin (which he has been known to do) I was a little stretched.
After monitoring the decision making process on a gift for my mother which was apparently a life altering choice, and seemed to take the brain power of an I-Mac, I was able to unlatch Henry from the spinny rack that he was under spinning and get to the check out.
I was sort of relieved because we were on our way out and how bad could it be to check out right?
IT IS CHRISTMAS…in KOHLS.
(This is not to leave out any other religious celebrations this time of year but it is the Christmas celebrators that are the most militant shoppers, lets face it.)
We got in line, with the little chains to lead us in the right direction (because we wouldn’t have been able to tell that by the 1000 people in front of us)
My grandmother was starting to stress out about whether they had boxes, and if she could use a credit card, and whether the sky was going to fall in, while Henry man handled EVERY item in that “just incase you wanted more” shelving area that they put sadistically next to the line to check out.
We finally get to the check out, and my grandmother informs the woman that no, she doesn’t want a Kohls card because she doesn’t have one near her. The woman smiles and says “Oh, where are you from?” My grandmother looks at her and replies “Kennebunk.” This was followed by a confused look from the cashier and an even more confused look from my grandmother because we were only 10 minutes away from Kennebunk!
While they were in their battle of locked confusion I hear “Next Puuuwson” in a very familiar voice, I turn to find that Henry was at an empty register punching buttons and asking for the next person in line…no I am NOT kidding.
I tear him away, to swipe my grandmothers card and try to get her to sign the electronic thingy with the fake pen…which is altogether just baffling her, while looking pleadingly at the check out lady saying “Can’t you just swipe this your self???” Of course not, because then, she might break one of her 10 inch nails with spider webs embedded on them.
By the time I got them both back to the car holding hands, elbows and bags…I was ready for some alone time…and some wine…and a massage….and a lobotomy…
Monday, December 8, 2008
I had to undertake the insurmountable task of rearranging and cleaning out Henry's room. With the new addition we had pretty much just shoved him in there and not taken much time to even clean the closet out of the girls things.
In an effort to have all his things in one room, and remove the toy box from my already too small den, I had to rearrange his room and find space for everything.
I diligently went around the room putting things away. By the time one thing left my hand and I picked up another, he was already playing with the thing I had just put away.
It was like a constant game of round robin in child toy hell.
But alas it is done. I will be spending some time this afternoon before I go to work, creating a gas mask and full suit of armour as I am taking on Caroline's room tomorrow...
If no one hears from me, I may have been taken down by a toppling pile of laundry, or perhaps just eaten by one of her many stuffed to the brim bags laying around her room...
Friday, December 5, 2008
My niece and Henry go to preschool together, so they are pretty comfortable with, well, telling each other what to do if we are just honest about it. Henry steps out of line, and Margo is very quickly there to shake her finger at him and say "Henry James!" and Margo gets what I like to call "Henry's life lessons" along the way....It is all well and good.
Today's lesson from Henry, was picking up a huge Santa, handing it to Margo and saying in a very preschoolish teacher voice "Margo, look, this is a Santa Jesus"
My sister and I were looking at bird ornaments made to look like real birds...(because you know, we really NEEDED them) I didn't really need to even look up, I just nodded and said, "Yes, Stephanie, he did just call that a Santa Jesus."
Of course it is always good for some comedic relief...but the best part is when Margo starts to cry and yells "No" to Henry, and he looks at me and in his very accusatory, "I've been wronged" voice yells "Margo won't let me RUB HER." Because that just makes the entire store stare at the two of us like we are some sort cretins that have come off the mountain and brought our young out into the open for the first time. But hey, he learned when a girl says no, man she means it.
Well, life just wouldn't be right if I didn't die of embarrassment every time I go out with the boy.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The other day when I sat down to a late lunch I turned on the TV thinking I would catch the news. The only thing on the regular channels was Inside Edition.
As I bit into my sandwich, I hear the plug for it: “The place for hard news.” By the time I finished my illustrious meal, I had learned about Brittany Spears 27th birthday party, what Michelle Obama was wearing and how, I too, could achieve that look, and the various romance partners of Jennifer Aniston.
Am I really getting that cranky? Because the last time I checked the country was in a recession, two wars, and I am pretty sure that there was a hostage situation last week and a few bombings.
I must be cranky, because, why would I want to hear about that when I could find out who baked Brittany’s Cake and what it was made of and how much it cost?
When I was a kid, and the president was on, I just went up stairs to read because there wouldn’t be anything else on the TV….NOW you can’t find the news on TV, because there are bimbos waiting to be the rap stars “chosen one”, and idiots vying to be Paris Hiltons BFF, and Lord knows I need to know what Angelina Jolie wore to the hospital to have her twins in FRANCE.
See???…Crankity Crank Crank Crank.
**DISCLAIMER*** Mind you I didn't turn off the TV, and did get all the juice though...so, perhaps I shouldn't wag my finger too much! lol
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
As many of you know my father is from the South, and my mother is from Maine...(I grew up in NH)
My southern husband says I'm "not half bad" I will let you all decipher which half is the not bad half for yourselves, I dare not enter into that debate. (The fact that I was born in Charlottesville, home of the Wahoos…well, I have been forgiven on all counts of that offense, being that I was too young to know what I was doing when I decided to make my entrance into the world.)
But the fact that I am halfsies, I have come to really appreciate some of the differences and the similarities. (Shhhh there are some…As you also may know, the civil war, or the war of Northern aggression depending on which of my grandmothers you are talking to, ended quite some years ago...It can still be a touchy subject.)
I enjoy sweet tea. Not the kind of sweet tea that you get here with just 10 pounds of sugar dropped into your cold tea and it all settles to the bottom, but brewed in so it is just the right amount of sweetness to add ten pounds to your butt while you on vacation with out you realizing it.
I love the BBQ, which down there I quickly learned is pulled pork, up here? It is any meat with BBQ sauce on it… not as good…But there are things here that I love too…
I like not having to “dress” to go to the store. This does not mean that I have made a practice of going to the store in my birthday suit, just with out make up, in my sweatpants and my sweaty “just ran” hair, with my three kids hanging off of every appendage. It is a wonder that they don’t lock the doors before my nastified self walks in, but you know what? There are about 10 other people that look like that too, because we knew that it was more important to get dinner for tonight, than to look good getting it.
I love that in the winter I have snow, and hot chocolate, and actually have a reason other than a 50 degree day to drink it. And I love how nitty gritty the grassroots operation of life is here.
One thing I find interesting is, down there, the Blue Grass music, is very similar to the Irish Music here…(their roots are same…) So when I sing at my church, most of the time people think that I should be in a pub…they don’t realize that I could also be flat footing on a board in my bare feet.
I have been pondering my life in both places, having now lived my life almost equally divided on either side of the Mason Dixon Line.
I will put up with my grandmother from the south thinking that her yard is being invaded by the uglier, meaner, “Northern Cardinal” (not realizing that there is no other cardinal, and is convinced that the “southern,” nicer, prettier one, is their state bird and the northern one is again, aggressing itself into her southern yard)
Because you know what? It is nice to be from both places, and be able to enjoy them both…and that is all I have to say about that!
Y’all come back real soon now, Y’hear?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
Because you know, I totally can see how something like Franklin can be harmful to their development. All that learning to cooperate and handle social issues by a turtle on two legs is just wrong… and I have always wondered about the Little Einstein’s…always getting into stuff and learning…what is wrong with them!
All snark aside, I have to be honest and admit, that in the past, I always held a little contempt for those people who put on shows in their car for their kids on a trip to the store. I mean if when I was little, I had to suffer playing I-Spy and the License Plate Game for 14 endless hours cramped in the van with my sister and my dog, then daggonit, they ought to be able to go to the store…
My song has changed since I have had to take kids to my parents 15 hours away. I couldn’t beg for a car DVD player hard enough. And I feel a little vindicated because after a car ride that was supposed to take 13 hours, took 17 yesterday, I cannot stress the benefits of movies in cars.
I know, I know, all the shaking of heads and looking at the ground...I have now joined the masses of horrid parents that allow the atrophy of brains on car rides.
Let’s be clear, I don’t find the need to set up a show for the trip to the corner store, but you know what? I believe that I am saving lives. Because the alternative to the silence of a multi media coma during a horrible storm on the Merrit Parkway, is me pulling over and leaving the whiny “when are we going to get there,” “why are you slamming the breaks on,” and “oooh you just said a bad word” children on the side of the road where surely they would be joined by the other masses of children being expelled from their cars in NYC by tired, frustrated parents.
See? I am not giving in to the TV monster; I am simply saving the lives of three children who couldn’t possibly know their fate otherwise!
Friday, November 28, 2008
It is a tradition because we all are keenly aware that we have so much to be thankful for in a world that has many more with out, than with.
So in our earnest attempt to show that we are keenly aware of our blessings, we one by one, count them.
I had a lot to be thankful for this year and I droned on and on, about my dad being healthy and recovering from his surgery just 2 weeks ago... my grandmother who is recovering from her stroke, also just two weeks ago...my beautiful children etc etc etc...
Remember, my three year old son is anxiously awaiting his turn to tell us what he is thankful for. My girls say such "awww" inspiring things as family and food and we all think what lovely little girls they are...
Henry? Nope, he smiled big, looked at all of us in all his glory, and said:
"I am thankful for spoons and diapers!"
Well, he may be a lot of things, but the boy knows what he is thankful for!
Happy Thanksgiving...and yes, I am thankful for a boy that never leaves me with a shortage of things to write about!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
And when he was my age he liked to dance...
I am glad I know what he was like in High School and at my age, perhaps it will help me parent him when I am his age....
I know I know... I am still confused!
Friday, November 21, 2008
I look at my daughter Marshall who as she gets older it becomes evident that she has the same quirky sense of humor that I used to...Bless her heart (those of you southerners will understand the meaning in that sentence.)
She decided last year that she loved cows; she drew them all over everything ...you know, kind of like I did with Beaker…when I used to draw pictures of him in various outfits and come up with names for him like "Malibu Beaker."
Yeah, see? Your NOT Laughing...that is what I mean...only the warped and demented totally get it...In a way it is nice, because we do our fake accents with each other, or pretend to have strange languages where everything has to start with S...and we bond in our own peculiar brand of humor. It makes me happy that she and I can communicate on that level where everyone around us thinks that I have opted to contribute to the delinquency of a minor.
Then I got this article from a friend…and these are guys from High School that I used to pal around with…and I thought…boy they are totally true to themselves…they haven’t changed a bit!
And it made me miss my weird self. I miss playing Russian Gulag Fashion Show with my friend Jen where we were both named Olga and donned flash lights as our most essential apparel. (Please disregard the complete social insensitivity…no harm meant there…just fun)
Some where a midst trying to maintain a lawn, and get my kids to school on time, I have lost sight of that fun person (and by fun I mean slightly off center of normal) that used to go to Dunkin’ Doughnuts and sneak coffee filters, and run our with them on our heads…just because we could…
So my hat is off to my old friends here, who obviously have kept their fun side in tact…and boy, I am envious…
It isn’t that I think that I should enter my school board meetings with a beret and speak to them in a French accent and pretend that I am Crusty Croissant or anything…its just that sometimes, between the meals, nose wiping, floor scrubbing, teaching, and trying to pretend like I am an adult and know what I am doing…I sort of miss that weirdo that used to be weird…just because I could….
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I realize that when we have children, we look into their cute little faces and dream of the day that they say “mama” or “dada,” but somehow no one warns us of what that wish will bring…
The endless question age.
My brain has been probed by alien questions such as: “If trees could talk, what would they say?” and “Why do cars drive on roads and not on houses?” or even “Are those clouds rain clouds or regular clouds…if they all have water how come they don’t all rain?” These are just the questions in a 3 minute tug of war getting Henry’s coat on this morning.
By the time I got him to preschool, we had covered extinction, the vastness of the universe, tree frogs eyes, grass cutting, cows and their many colors, as well as various sizes of people and clothes, who poops on potties and who doesn't, why animals don’t poop on potties, and where do they poop if they don’t have diapers…
I am pretty sure that there were some other observations, definitions and quandaries that I have blocked out or simply forgotten as there is only so much information that one person is able to store.
It’s been a while since Marshall and Caroline were in the endless question zone, and I forgot what it was like. At the end of the day these days, I am not as physically exhausted as I am mentally.
And Yes, I know that it is a GOOD thing for my kids to be inquisitive and it is supposed to be a sign of intelligence…
I agree…they are intelligent enough to know that if they wear my feeble brain out by noon, they get some good TV time in the afternoon…that is what they are intelligent about.
And I know that “because it just is” is not an answer, but daggonit , I DON’T KNOW WHY ERIC'S HAIR IS BROWN AND YOURS IS BLOND AND WHY PEOPLE WERE INVENTED THAT WAY…..
Whew….This is why I need a vineyard…
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
As the weeks went on he kept talking about eating his mommy. I started to get a little more disconcerted, sleeping with one eye open incase he came into my room in the middle of the night with a knife and fork.
I was doling out goodies after lunch one day, and out peaked a white chocolate mummy on a stick.
“MY MOMMY” Henry exclaimed as he picked up his chocolate stick. I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved!
All was well and good and I can again, have sleep…Right????
Of course NOT!
Because every night lately, Henry has been getting up in the middle of the night and wanting to get in bed with us, we kindly decline the boy, and put him back in his bed. A few times we have gone in his room to wake him up in the morning and his light is on, which apparently he gets up and turns on in the middle of the night. I kept asking why etc… I never got an answer…until yesterday.
Henry: “Mom, why are there goats in our yard at night?”
Henry: “Yeah, you told me there were goats in our yard at night, and I have looked for them, they are scary”
Me: Completely confused “Goats? I don’t think I ever told you we had Goats…”
Henry: Very emphatically, “Yes you did! You did! I don’t like the goats in our yard”
Me: Thinking I had figured it out “Do you mean Ghosts?”
Henry: Very seriously, “Nope, you said we have Goats in our yard, and they scare me.”
Now, I am not sure where this is coming from, there are no Goats, or Ghosts I am pretty sure. And I am fairly positive I have not expressed any concern about the late night attack of four legged ruminants…so…I guess we are just going to have to go with his alter ego is playing games with him…hmmmm.
Friday, November 14, 2008
I came home from being away for a week to my washing machine (which was our first major purchase as a married couple) being broken. We got this machine when moved out to the eastern shore of VA shortly after we got married. We lived in a little rented house (which remains my favorite) just down the road from "Crack Corner"
Nope, I am not kidding, and if you ever meet someone from the Eastern Shore and you say “Crack Corner”, they will most likely say “Oh in Exmore?” Ahhh the memories, Willis Warf, biking everywhere, fresh vegetables, drug busts in my driveway…you know, all the good stuff!
Anyway, we couldn’t afford the dryer, so we figured we could just get a washer. Yeah, the first 6 months we lived there it rained…like EVERYDAY…I can remember hang drying clothes all over our house with fans on them. Or going out to hang our clothes on the line during the 1 hour of the day that it didn’t rain, and getting eaten alive by man sized mosquitoes, only to find that the clothes never could dry because it was so humid outside that the air itself made the clothes more wet than when they came out of the washer.
One night, in tears because I couldn’t sleep from scratching too much, I counted 205 mosquito bites on my legs…yes I did promptly wake my sleeping husband to tell him, and then complain that I couldn’t sleep and I hated that we didn’t have a dryer and so on and so on…I am thankful that it was our first months of marriage, because if I did that now, he would probably impale me with a drying rack….actually, who am I kidding, after this many years he totally can tune me out!
So alas, after 13 years our washing machine must go…I am not going to feeling so sad though because there is a really nice front loader waiting to take its place…I will just apologize for not being able to fix it, and wave out the window as they take it to the washing machine graveyard…See? I am growing!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
I came around the corner, knowing he was by himself and said..."umm, you OK?"
"Yes," Completely into Franklin on TV.
"Who are you yelling at?"
"My foot, it was moving like this (he proceeds to kick it around) and I was getting mad at it."
"ummmmm....OOOOKAAAAYYYY" as I back out of the room and hide in the closet until normal Henry comes back to visit....
a little worried!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
OK so it wasn't really insanity as much as I am one of those people that cannot pass up a good deal and a nearly 15 pound turkey for 6$ was one of those deals. But now...I have to cook a turkey.
I am not someone who is versed in cooking large birds, nor do I know what to do with them after I cook them. I came home the other night all "la-de-da I bought a turkey, and am going to cook a big meal for my family" and was instantly crushed by reading that it was going to take 5hours to cook the darn thing.
I believe that this should be in bold letters on the label: "DO NOT BUY IF YOU WANT TO EAT THIS WEEK." Seriously, I am too busy in my life as taxi driver of children to have something in the oven for 5 hours!
What is a girl to do? Call my mom…which is what I did.
I realize that somewhere in my youth and childhood I evidently missed the class on bird cooking 101. My mom always did a great job, so I didn’t feel the need to learn this myself. I still go away for Thanksgiving, and tend to have a ham preference at Christmas…so needless to say, when my mother started going over the pans, utensils, and cook witchery I had to master to get this bird from salmonella infested to luxuriously moist turkey roast, I thought I was going to black out.
But in my earnest attempt to save money, and be more self reliant…I am going to dive in and try to master basting tonight.
Wish me luck, and Martha can just close her eyes and shake her head…I will apologize now, because Lord knows what it is going to look like after I try and carve it! LOL.
Monday, November 10, 2008
A few things that I have learned about myself: I am not a graceful stressed person. I age about 10 years and act 20 years younger in maturity. And lastly, if anything is of the chocolate and peanut butter persuasion, it had better get the heck out of my way because I WILL consume it in massive quantities.
But now all is OK, my dad’s OK, my grandmother is OK, voting is over (I had devoted the spare 2 minutes of every day in the last 18 months to a referendum that passed), and things are settling back down to my normal pace, the speed of light. So, all things edible can stop hiding from me, as my appetite is back to normal.
And the good thing? You know, aside from everyone recovering nicely, and no more 800 committee meetings a week…now I can call my dad and blame him for my extra large butt that has miraculously appeared behind me. (And by miraculous I mean, I know exactly where it came from, but I don’t care to own it, so I am going to actively blame him…its just more fun that way)
Ahhhhhh it is a good day!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I am not saying that all of the improvements of the last couple decades have been unnecessary, not at all...in fact, while sitting in the hospital waiting room for hours on end, my sister, mom and I had many reminiscent conversations which led to Hot Dots!
Remember those reflector orange dots that they used to pass out to us on the day of Halloween to put all over our stuff so when we went trick or treating we would reflect? I thought about that...and those dots were about the size of a quarter...
Yeah, that is going to stop a truck from hitting your dressed in black tail in the middle of the road. So, You GO Glow Sticks, that is a better invention for trick or treating...
Besides, all my hot dots never made it to my costume anyway, they got put on my Saturday Night Fever album...
I know, I just aged myself.
Monday, November 3, 2008
And on a side note: Let your kids know that you did, so they too can know its importance.
Have a splendiferous voting day.
You may return to your regular scheduled programing....
So last night while I had one eye open on the clock ticking past every minute like a slow train to hell...I was able to be in college, with my first boss, Mary Barton a principal (who by the way was in her 50's back then) and talk about our Facebook pages, while cheering on my teammates at a swim meet in the Student Union Building.
Yeah I know...you all go ahead and try and analyze that one....I am going to get another cup of coffee before we head to the hospital!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Monday night we took Marshall to get her ears pierced for her birthday. She has been begging for some time, and we decided that we would surprise her with it for her birthday. It was a big surprise she didn't know it until we got her in the chair...(this was just a trick of real wizardry on my part, I knew that she would get scared and talk herself out of it, if I didn't just take her and do it.)
I have plenty of reason to believe this as we have taken her kicking and screaming to do many things, and afterward she laughs with delight…diving off the side of the wall at the pool, jumping off the diving board, going on a rollercoaster, ice-skating…pretty much anything that she can think too much about and realize that she could get hurt. I suppose it is a good thing to have a healthy awareness of your mortality, and it will probably serve her well when she is a teenager…I could have used some of that!
Anyway, she did it; she was fine, other than shaking for about ½ hour afterward.* And of course she was so excited.Later at dinner, Marshall informed us, when she is really emphatic about something she always wants to say "stinkin'" as in "I just got my stinkin' ears pierced, and I am stinkin' happy"
hmmmm....I just don't even know where to start with that…apparently all my kids are weird…
That stinkin’ apple needed to fall further…
*I will have to post the picture later, because the one Jamie took was very blurry.
I think that animals come back as wood knots!
(OK, so not really, but these pictures are really cool)
So now you are going to have to put on your warped PIE imagination...I know it is stretching here...but just try.
Here is an OWL:
Here is an Ostrich...the big knots are the eyes...and its beak etc... or if you look at the big knots as ears, it could be a mouse that has an unfortunate facial defect of a misplaced eye...
Here is a Horse with a go-go- gadget eye...
here is my Dragon Fly:
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Henry is my challenge...well, all of them are a challenge in their own right, but Henry...he is special in so many ways. One of his "special" things is his outright refusal to poop on the potty. He has been potty trained for over a year...other than the pooping thing. I am not sure if he thinks that the toilet is going to hijack his butt or what, but I am about at my wits end with laundering gross underwear.
I am leaving to go to North Carolina with my sister for my father’s surgery, and am leaving the pooping bandit with my in-laws. This is stressful because I know how sick of it I am, and I am his mother. (If I wasn't, I think I would have returned him to the store already.)
So I took away thing that he enjoys, TV, Computer time, etc… until he uses the potty for going number 2. We have had a couple of successes, but no permanent change. HOWEVER…. The boy actually had a tiny (and I mean do mean minuscule) happening into the potty the other day…he proceeded to turn around look in the potty and say:
“Wow, look at that big Turd” (sp?)
Now mind you, I am giggling right now and barely able to type…but I still don’t know WHERE HE LEARNED THAT WORD. Now most of the time I will own up to stuff… The S bomb…yup, that was totally me. I knew it, and tried to correct it.
Jamie, I am thinking this one is ALL YOU BABE. I am cringing imagining him dropping the T word at Preschool…but its OK, I will just blame everything on Jamie…he doesn't show his face all that often around there, and won’t even notice the disapproving looks when he does.
Friday, October 24, 2008
When they have makeup?
And High School Musical?
"Can we drive through the fire tunnel on the way home?" This one had me stumped, until he said "yeah" as we drove on our road through a patch of road where the trees cover it and had turned yellow...it did kind of look like a fire tunnel.
"let me tell you a story mom. It is about a sheep that jumped out of a tractor and a cow that flipped out of a cow." (I couldn't' follow this one very well, but you get the picture.)
Just thought I would share what my conversations in the past 30 minutes have been like.
Since he is not allowed to watch TV or play on the computer due to some unfortunate circumstances, (ie...his crappy attitude), he is following me around the house asking me 100 questions, as I hang shower rods, toilet paper thingies (that IS the technical term), go grocery shopping, bake a cake for Marshall's birthday, and attempt to finish cleaning the pit I like to call home before 3.
Not to mention I had better take a shower because I am pretty sure that I am leaving a grease slick behind me as I go about the house. And I may scare off some of the parents. I figure I am safe with the Tween's, they are still in that denial phase of cleanliness. You know, they get gross and smelly, but still think they don't need to take a shower...I know I know, I should be fine with it, because shortly, (and I remember the switch going off in myself) they will be showering every 10 minutes as well as changing outfits.
Off to finish a cake....and shower? Maybe? I am sure he will stand outside the shower and talk to me the whole time I am in there...he is standing beside me right now talking as I type....
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Yeah, they CLEARLY never actually tested this principal.
If I have taken out a small loan to go to Shaw’s, and Henry is with me, he always insists on pushing one of the little carts. I generally concede to this. The alternative would be the “car cart” that inevitably doesn’t steer correctly, and will take out entire displays or other small children that cannot dodge the monstrosity approaching them fast enough. So I don’t argue. Little Man gets his cart.
My problem is, Henry seems to think that this is an opportunity to practice for his stint in NASCAR when he is of age. He starts out all normal and calm, but then he sees that wide open isle in front of him, and you can see it, he just can’t help himself, and off he goes running, and laughing pushing his cart like a wild man. Making the break noise as he veers around corners "EEEEEEERRRRRKKKK"
This ends with lots of disapproving looks from parents of yester-year with their thoughts of “I would never have allowed my child to misbehave like that.” To which my response is:
“YOU DIDN'T HAVE STUFF THAT WAS KID ORIENTED. You didn’t have to worry about it. Come on Lady, between balloons, little carts and happy meals, it is a freaking romper room of terror for mothers out here…have some heart.”
We tend to actually get through the grocery store, but I have to tell you, we got up to the check out, and Henry was unloading his cart…there were a few things in there that I had to explain weren’t mine, and I was terribly sorry could they put it back?
The checkout lady rolled her eyes as she took the Depends Undergarments, Feminine Wipes, and big bag of Milky Way Minatures, and put them in that cart they have for unwanted items.
Yeah, it was really a fun trip…*Note: Dripping Sarcasm*
Friday, October 17, 2008
Did you know that there is actually a clinical diagnosis? PAPD, Passive Aggressive Personality Disorder, I prefer to call it Pain in the Ass Person Disorder.
I guess we all do it to some extent...But I have always tried to be of the mind set, own your feelings. (I believe this may be what made other kids quiver when I marched out onto the field as an angry, field hockey stick wielding, teenager.)
Anyway, the same person who turned me on to the misquotation marks blog also told me to check this one out. This particular entry I didn't find offensively passive aggressive really...I thought of it as more border line snarky and sarcastic...which, well, if you have read my blog very long, you may realize I majored in, in college.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
I know I know, I am totally a Pot and there is absolutely a kettle in the room somewhere...I am the queen of horrible English...hey let me use one more... ... ...
I mean who am I hurting when I wait until the kids are in bed to break out the ice-cream or the popcorn so we don’t have to share? I mean, all day I share, share, share. Seriously, I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself with out having to put a ponytail in for one kid and give fashion advice to the other at the same time…talk about un-necessary multi-tasking.
In the grand scheme of things, is it so wrong to take pleasure in one of my secrets from my kids???
Marshall, (my eldest,) however, has been on to us for a while. Even when she was younger and she would smell the popcorn cooking.* All of the sudden we would hear her at the top of the stairs. She would say in her very small, pitiful, starving child voice… "I smell something yummy..." and then wait for our response.
Mind you, this could be 2 hours after she had been asleep. That kid has some sort of witchery when it comes to food she likes. It is like a cat who is sleeping somewhere in the house…you can call them 100 times, and they won’t come, but break open a can of tuna for lunch…they are at your feet with in milliseconds. (My cats can even hear it when they are outside…they come running to the door. I have never figured that one out.)
Our response to Marshall when she was younger and couldn’t roll her eyes at us was generally, "Um, no you don't, the cat must smell funny." (They slept with her.) Or even more crafty, "Are you sure you aren't having a stroke? People smell funny things when that happens..."
Now I think she is a hypochondriac, I am pretty sure that I may have something to do with that. The other night she came down stairs to look for her book, and totally caught me with my spoon in the ice-cream jug.
She was all "THATS WHY THERE IS NEVER ANY ICECREAM..." looking at me all indignant and I am pretty sure that she rolled her eyes and looked directly at my butt...
So I was all, "So what are you trying to SAY?" and she was all "What ever..."
(By the way, when did 10 become the 13 of the 1980’s???? I am not sure, but fairly positive I didn’t learn the eye roll, head tilt, “whatever”, until I was 13…or perhaps I just had a healthy knowledge of mortality and my dad until then…not sure.)
But as God is my witness, I will sneak goodies in the wee hours as long as my jeans shall fit, and I will hide it all from my kids…”let them not eat cake” I say, and I will continue this until I can be in the bathroom ALONE.
(This ought to buy me some time, because I still barge in on my mom when she is getting ready for something and stand there and talk to her…I am pretty sure that this is why she is thankful that I don’t live in NC!)
*What is UP with that smell? I can make microwave popcorn, and for the next two weeks everyone and our house smells like popcorn no matter how many times I use the pressure washer to wash them and their clothes off.
Friday, October 10, 2008
So my middle kid wakes up this morning and her eye was stuck shut. After the initial shock of not being able to pry her eye open with out ripping out all of her eyelashes, some calming words from mom ("Hold freaking still or this won't work"), a warm wash cloth, and a few "OH my gosh is that your EYE???" comments from her sensitive older sister, we assessed the situation and decided that the PINK EYE had invaded our child’s head.
Now I realize that most of you parents out there are saying. What is her problem... every kid has to experience their eye being cemented shut in order to truly pass into adulthood, and really it is not this one instance in particular...but rather the barrage of "notices" on bright red paper that seem to be being sent home in droves from the school lately.
First it was to warn people about getting the flu shot because our germ ridden offspring, who clearly have anxiety of antibacterial soap and washing their hands, touch everything and bring it home to infect the household.
Apparently now, we don’t just have flu like “yeah! I get to stay home from school and watch bad game shows on TV” like when I was a kid…it is now, “you are going to get a fever, your heart is going to expand and eventually blow up and your head will pop off, flu.” So if you are anything but a 25 year old, marathon running, tea totaller you are expected to get a flu shot or die.
Then came the next blaze Red form warning of the lice outbreak in school. You know that the one kid they found it on is mortified and everyone knows who he is. He is going to be graduating from high school and everyone in the audience is going to be whispering...
"Do you remember when he gave all our kids head lice???"
"Yes, I had to wash our entire house down in that horrible smelling shampoo and I still instinctively itch when I see him…see these hives????"
Then yesterday, yet another cherry red from the school, it warned of the EEE (Eastern Equine Encephalitis) they found in mosquitoes near the school. So now we have to either send our kids to school with a mosquito net over their heads or spray them down heavily with DEET so that they won't die…(if the DEET doesn't do the job first.)
So you may understand why, when my kid woke up this morning with her eye glued shut I was starting to have issues.
I am starting to come to the conclusion that it isn't global warming, nuclear holocaust, or terrorists that are going to do us in...it is all the crap that lives in elementary schools and on our dirty little "I don't NEED a bath" children that are going to get us.
Want to win a war? Just air transport in all our elementary school kids to the country of choice. They seem to be host pods for all sorts of nasty little diseases and infections…nit, mucus and germ the opposition into submission…just a thought…
Monday, October 6, 2008
There was a story about the time after Ivan the terrible when he had killed his only son, (heir to the throne,) and there were all sorts of people trying to take over running for Tsar of Russia. Apparently a Polish politico went to Russia undercover and tried to get into the ruling position. When it was found out that he was from Poland and trying to infiltrate their government they burned him at the stake, took his ashes, loaded them into a cannon and shot him toward Poland....
Now that is just plain justice Russia style. Jamie laughed, he thought it was awesome...you know, minus the torture and death part...I just thought it was fascinating, that we today think that we live in such a violent terrible world...
OH and the other really cool thing that I got from that show....Tsar means Caesar in Russian, and the first Tsar used it because he was trying to model Russia after the Roman Empire and rule it as the Caesar of Russia....kind of interesting huh?
It makes me wonder why, when I loved history so much, I had to have a history professor that made Ferris Beuller's teacher look facinating...there has to be a better way of teaching history that relays how utterly fascinating the subject is....*SIGH*
Sunday, October 5, 2008
This is not to say that I was a bad athlete. I ended up holding my own fairly well in the pool, or when I had a field hockey stick in my hand that I could pummel other people with. I think Soccer just wasn’t my thing. So I am fairly sympathetic when my middle child starts playing with her ears in the middle of the soccer game, looking for four leaf clovers, or pouting when she is in goal too long. I think that Soccer just isn’t going to be her thing; however she insists that she loves it.
It is hard for me to remember that my older daughter was the same way at the same age, and now is doing well and loves it. And really? Caroline does have spurts of energy where she even scores. Just over all, I think there isn’t quite enough action for her yet.
I do however, now, enjoy the soccer field. It is a source of all sorts of entertainment. I mean there are the really loud, want to have Mia Hamm mothers, who start yelling at my Caroline to pay attention to the ball. you know the ones who are jumping up and down screaming "get it, get the ball, just get it, kick her, get her out of the way." You know, the parents that must take steroids to prepare for their elementary school child’s sporting event. There are the little kids that keep running onto the soccer field with no idea that there is a "sporting event" in play, and let us not forget the actual kids that are playing.
I am pretty sure that I am one of the parents that the Mia Hamm parents think is awful...because I just sit back and kind of chuckle to myself...OK that is a lie, I laugh at my kids. But seriously? I am laughing at other peoples kids too, so it isn't all horrible...(right?)
Come on…You gottah think it is a little funny when a kid is too busy waving to their parents, picking their nose, looking at another game, or scratching their butt and the other team scores. So, I am awful, I just think its funny.
To be honest, I am not sure when this all changed, and it got all serious, like their 2nd grade soccer experience was going to go on their application to college or something. I seem to remember sports being fairly laid back.
Although, I am sure that my parents probably have stories of people threatening to accost me as I laid on my back on the soccer field singing songs as loud as I could, and I just don’t remember it…I just remember the fun of being on a team.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Now mind you, I am on the phone with them for hours that I will never get back because I volunteered to set up a Church Website. One would think that since it is like a nice Churchy thing it would go easily... Nope... apparently this is my test in patience and humility.
After a few weeks of hopeless emails back and forth, I finally got some time to sit down and call technical support. After being on the phone with Beth* for hours, while she did everything that I said I had already done, to no avail, she told me that it was a problem that she couldn’t solve, and I had to call another branch of Technical Support. She left me with the reassuring: "We really aren't very busy so you shouldn't have to wait very long," and to call her back afterward if nothing else happens. I am thinking great! So I call the number she gave me...
This is where I am picturing a bunch of guys playing cards at a table in the work room...
Ring Ring "Ahhh just let them going to the 8000 options then we can answer it.”
So after I press the 1 for English, and then go through 10 menus of
"Do you need help? Press 1"
"Are you sure you need help? Press 1"
"Are you really, really sure that you still need help? Press 1"
"We have been having technical difficulties in your area, we are aware of this and are currently working on the situation, do you still need help? Press 1"
"We are going to make you wait until your hair turns gray and your children are grown and gone...do you still need help? Press 1"
As my one pressing digit was getting more and more feisty about pressing the daggon button, I finally hear:
"You have indicated that you still are in need of Technical Support, please hold while the next available person can assist you, your wait will be less than 5 minutes..."
Which really meant:
Despite all our warnings, you still think that you need help, so eventually we will find the most condescending, self important, computer geek to answer the phone. But he is busy playing cards with the other unhelpful people so he will answer your call when he finally decides to schlep over to the help phone. Until then, please enjoy our music that we have conveniently put half way on a station, so that you can enjoy parts of the songs, with an occasional ear numbing static. We also have a loose wire in the radio, so it will be very quiet, then when we come on to tell you it will only be a few more minutes; it will blow your eardrum out. OH, and just to make it clear, less than a 5 minute wait, is measured in Dog Years, so it is more like, oh….maybe 10 hours. Enjoy your time on your phone, are you really sure you still need help?
Yeah, the website still isn’t up…only my blood pressure. I will have to try again another day when I have some free Valium laying around. I will say it again; those are moments of my life that I will NEVER get back.
*Her name has been changed because while I am fustrated, she is a really nice lady and has been very patient...so I can't be but so mean about her.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Now as we all know, necessity breeds invention, so here is mine: My Super Duper Edging the Sky Tool! I know, I know, I AM A GENIUS! (It is a painting pole, with the roller screwed to the top, (minus the roller) and the edging paintbrush duct taped to the top of the roller...hey I needed leverage!)
I was talking to my mother as I was constructing this magnificent contraption. As I explained what I was doing I just got the:
LONG PAUSE of disbelief that she raised me..."uh, okaaaayyyyy" long drawn out OK as if to say "I paid for college for this???"
But I want you all to know, and by all I mean YOU MOM. I was able to edge the stairwell with this!
My only question from this adventure in being an inventor...is:
WHY do we have stairwells that are 4000 feet tall over the stairs? Unless you are Big Foot, or a flying squirrel it is impossible to reach. I suppose if you get one of those contortionist ladders you might be able to get up there, but who needs that when you can just use duct tape and a pack of gum?
MacGyver would be so freaking proud of me!
(Remember him? I had SUCH a crush on him. I mean who wouldn’t have…the man stopped a nuclear melt down with a Hershey bar and pack of gum! ( *SIGH*
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
oh wait...maybe I DO translate!
In that case, I am fairly sure that there is someone out there saying "stay away from PIE" it is a bad influence. Which could cause problems in the pastry industry. See the destruction I cause!
At this point my family is cussing 'analytics' and my ability to see these things, and are rolling their eyes, because they are worried I will go on a long winded tour of my stay in Russia when I did and exchange in High School. (a small obsession of mine...) I WONT.
However, I will....
give you a photo shot of me at 17 in Russia!
Yeah I know great Hat, but it really wasn't that bad, the wind was blowing it up like Gomer Pile. I am not sure what I am doing with my face...but hey...IT WAS RUSSIA does it matter?
"Goodbye apple, Goodbye apple, Goodbye apple, I am going to eat you soon."
could it be? Just maybe? A sign that my child will eat a fruit or vegetable in his future?
I may just be being getting my hopes up...
Damn the Children's Goodbye songs....Damn them....
(I say this in sarcasm, not anger, I do not wish ill upon children's song writers, because, well, that would be wrong...right???)
...before we worried about damaged psyches and litigation.
I was pawing through some things in my attic the other day and came across two children’s books. One was my favorite book as a kid, the other, one that my mom gave me when I was in college.
Today though, I am only going to talk about “The Littlest Rabbit.” It was my favorite book as a little kid. I read it so many times that the pages are worn thin, and of course my name is written all over it.
(Like everything else I owned...or didn't, like the bathroom counter that I carved my name into with a ball point pen. Apparently I had a lot of time to sit there and think of doing that. I also wrote the ABC's on the side of the counter down stairs. I think I may have been in my 20's when my dad finally had to repair it to move, and I STILL got in trouble.)
Being the youngest in the family, you can see the draw that I would have had to a story like this… The heart warming story of a tiny rabbit that everyone picked on, who when he finally got big, had his day of reckoning with those big rabbits. It was OK though, because he was a nice rabbit to all the little rabbits telling them that he too was once the littlest rabbit, and look, now he kicks some ass.
I found it, thinking that it would be fun to read to Henry, until I read it. Um...yeah, I am holding off. I think he would take the "punching one and kicking the other" a little too to heart and my girls may get upset if I encouraged that side of him. I did read it to my sensible eldest...her response?
"This was your favorite book? Where did it come from? People get beat up in it."
I am all “Yeah I KNOW, You’re the oldest....you don’t get it.”
I AM mature aren’t I!?!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
"Take care of the endangered animals, and the poor, sick, and hungry"
Suddenly the table is shaking, I look up, and my husband is giggling at the other end. I am thinking to myself...hmmmm, I wonder when the poor, sick, and hungry became comedy...although in these times, it could have just been a maniacal, we are going there soon, laugh... but no, it was slowly turning into a guffaw.
My girls quizzically looking at Jamie and then to me, because, they were thinking...if that was me you would be stepping on my foot under the table...HARD.
I gave the big eyed, motherly, wifely, "knock it off" look, and Jamie said:
"I am pretty sure that she didn't say this, but I heard 'Take care of the Indians and Camels, and the poor, sick, and hungry.' I was just wondering what was wrong with the camels."
So it isn't just my kids...its our hard of hearing old age too....
Monday, September 22, 2008
Now this isn't as far fetched as it may seem...it is what my extensive college education that I paid for longer than I used it,
There is something about those little minds with big eyes that are staring up at you as though they are waiting for the next bit of easily misinterpreted agriculture information they will absorb and regurgitate all mangled up at the dinner table to their horrified parents. Or the looks of disdain from the over protective mothers when I actually make their kids dirty during a planting activity... yup, I am a little scared to be teaching those toddler types.
I guess the bright side of working with this age group, is you can get them to do almost anything. They won't even give you a funny look if you ask them to float around the room like a leaf falling from a tree, or to all pick animals and make that sound to create a "barnyard experience" in the room. That is so down their alley.
And if all else fails, and action rhymes don't bribe them, surely the use of glue will. I have yet to meet a little kid who doesn't LOVE to use glue...and it is the rare mother that actually lets them use it in their own home. So if nothing else...I will be the glue queen in the preschooler kingdom.
So think of me Wednesday as I take on the preschooler kingdom, and I will go in armed with cheesy farm songs, and my arsenal of glue and smelly markers. Yeah, I will rock their world!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Henry on the way home "Come on buffalo lets go rolling we have make it home." um... close enough.
2. However innocently, there are things you Never expect to hear your niece and your son playing in the Den:
"OK Henry, I am a very dirty girl, you give me a bath"
"Is this water too hot for you? let me get a washcloth"
Mom breaks in "OK ANYONE READY FOR A SNACK!"
3. Henry and his friend Jack disappear for a little bit at Jacks house. His mom and I go upstairs to find that they have locked themselves in Jacks room and are playing "bedtime" Henry was being the mom, putting Jack to bed, and singing nice little tunes...it was all really sweet and Dana and I sat outside the room and giggled, all of the sudden we hear them laugh and Elmo laugh and Henry "Ooh Tickle Me Elmo" Then we sat out side the room holding our sides from busting.
4. And lastly, good things for the self esteem....
"Lets play jungle, I am a lion"
"OK Henry what am I?"
after some serious contemplation and sizing me up. "You are a very big elephant with a big nose and ears"
And you wonder why I need wine?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Not to mention as we get closer to election time, I just can't help but get more and more cynical...but hey, I am allowed, I actually read, and make sure I am at least a slightly educated voter...I am allowed some fear this election!
I got a chuckle out of this, it slams both parties, but really? I love Bob Dylan, so Hey, Maybe that was half of it.
I do however; believe that there are times where those little secrets are OK. You know, like birthday presents, surprises, or accidentally putting mayonnaise on your husband's sandwich, (which he hates) and wiping it off and covering it with mustard so that he won't notice... You know little things like that.
But I guess nothing is a secret when you have little ones around. The statement "He doesn't ever have to know, just don't mention it" obviously went in one ear and out the other, OR perhaps Caroline thought she saw smoke coming off her arm and was fearing the self combustion thing. Needless to say, as soon as Jamie came downstairs, the first thing out of her mouth was "Did you tell Daddy?"
Me having already forgotten what happened, was all "huh?" and I got that wide eyed rolling of the eyes, stomp of one foot, "YOU KNOW"
Baffled and not having enough coffee yet, I didn't know...and I hate that game anyway, because most of the time these days? I barely remember my name much less anything that may have happened 5 minutes ago... I refer to it as :"the three alien children that came out of my body sucked my brains out for food as they left syndrome." After about 5 minutes of "You know", and "No, I don't know" I finally just said, what are you talking about?
"Did you tell Dad about his, you know, SANDWICH." Ahhh nice...she ratted me out.**
Jamie sort of looked at his sandwich in a nervous way wondering about all the Hemlock that surrounds our yard. So I told him. It wasn't a big deal, but come on...can't kids keep little secrets???
I suppose it is a good thing in the long run, when Marshall comes down to breakfast in the morning when she is 18, and Caroline is all "Did you tell them????...You know, about sneaking out of the house, stealing the car and going 'cruising' with your best friends???" I guess until then I will just be careful with the mayonnaise.
**This is totally my payback for being the same way when I was a kid...my parents bought my sister a guitar for her birthday and bribed me with a harmonica to keep me quiet... I am not sure that I had even gotten both feet in the house when I looked at my sister and said "Don't worry Stephanie, we didn't get you a guitar." yeah, I sucked too.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
It is a known fact that there are some quirky people that hang out in libraries...even more than just the librarians themselves. (I am getting cyber glares from my librarian friends...) Because you see them so often, some patrons have developed nick names that all the librarians can recognize them by.
Names like: “Tube Sock Man”, “Perfume Man”, “Building a Bomb in his Mothers Basement Guy”*, “Sleazy Mobster Guy,” and "I want to be your friend Guy” (He is the one that used to yell "I just wanted to be your friend" whenever I would leave the room he was sitting in).
Ahhh yes, Libraries tend to have all sorts of strange people convene in their reading rooms. In fact once, when I was in high school working at a library, a man wrapped himself in toilet paper, naked, and ran through the library. That was “nude mummy guy.”
There is a story here. One night when I was working “Creepy Serial Killer Guy”** was bleeding on his arm and asked me for a Band-Aid. I went out back to get him one, when I came back, he said his hands weren’t working right and could I put it on him…
Now, I like to think of myself as a really nice person...for the most part... But with being nice, and trying to always think about others first, I have developed this problem where I have a hard time saying no. Jamie may whole heartedly disagree with this, but in the setting that I am discussing, I tend to fall off the fence onto the "lets not make waves" side rather than the "Have a freaking back bone Leia, side"
So what did I do? I did it.
YEAH I KNOW…I itched the rest of the night feeling like something was crawling all over me I was so grossed out. There wasn’t enough antibacterial in the world when I got home to cure my problem… I have GOT to learn to say no! If not to a creepy bleeding dude in the library than to who???? Where does it end?
* This guy had a copy of a Chemistry text book out for at least one year…and was very nervous when you talked about fertilizers…(No Leila it isn’t who you think it is)
**I am going to say that I don’t know for sure that he is a serial killer, but he is one of those people that the minute he looks at you, you want to flee like the little screaming child you know you are!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Not to mention, more bread and butter pickles for my dad, along with Watermelon rind pickles for my MIL. Yes, I did also hang mirrors, paint rooms, and get stuff done around the addition too...I was happy to have had a productive weekend...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Now before you jump all over me for using Face Book as a weapon, she made me a pin of me in the back of her car…so fair is fair. But then I loaded one of her on a tractor and one of us at Myrtle Beach and then…well you get the point. She is now ready to impale me through the eye with a jazz shoe; there were so many pictures from the 80’s.
I think I may be a menace to society with my camera. Since I was in second grade and got my first 110 film camera, I have taken pictures, and I have albums upon albums of them. (Jamie will confirm this since he has had to move them with each move since 1994 when we started dating. I guess I did put him to work early huh?)
So, yes, it was a big blue dress, in fact it was a little BoPeep dress...a very scary blast from my past as a freshman in High School in the 80's. The foreign exchange student Rolf, asked me to prom...not because there was some burning desire to go with ME in particular, mind you. In fact, I am not really sure if we ever talked before he asked me. But I was friends with his host family, he was deathly shy, and I guess, they figured I was nice enough to say yes. Now that is nothing against Rolf, he was a very nice guy, truly. It just was sort of like an arranged marriage.
And my memories of this night? Wearing a Jessica McClintock dress that was entirely too frilly to fit my personality, Being so hot from the satin sticking to me everywhere, getting sick to my stomach while I was there because I was nervous, and my friends being relentless, and standing under my window while I was getting ready, singing at the top of their lungs: “Leia in Blue, is dancing with Rolf” (to the “Lady in Red” song) but you know what? In the effort of being fair to Jen, and to prevent her from “having to come over here and kick my butt” I am going to defend myself…
Here it is, just please while you are looking at this debacle in a blue dress, sing “That’s What Friends are For” because that was the number one song in 1986...and now we are even!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Now I am feeling guilty because I didn't even post the pics of my girls' first day...and my even steven first born will feel slighted for sure. So here is their first day...they are so cute, and so...different. But they are having a ball in school and glad to be back and out of this house!
But alas, no phone call, not even a blip on the radar. I went to pick him up thinking, "wow, it was a successful day!"
Of course, I cannot have something go off with out a hitch, that might alter the universe in some adverse way.
So, I am thinking that things were all great...we pull into the garage after preschool. Henry opens the door, and proceeds to fall out of the car, knocking his head on the door, and has a lump the size of Arkansas on his head that is now black and blue and is turning slowly into a shiner too...
Arkansas....Do you know how big that state is?????
Too bad this couldn't have been ready a couple weeks ago when it was hot, and the idea of watermelon juices running down your arms in the hot weather at the beach was a wonderful thought! BUT, hey, fresh from the garden watermelon anytime is a good thing. We had 10 this year, and from just two plants. They were pretty prolific and I will plant them again next year!
And yes Bonnie, I will make watermelon rind pickles from this baby for you!
Monday, September 8, 2008
I thought I was full of snark. At least we can all get a little laugh now and again!
Thank you to my sister who sent this to me.
At any rate, that is what I am claiming. As many of you know, this has not, and mean NOT been the greatest summer of all time. In fact it has fallen so short of that, that it has become the giant debacle we called summer.
So in this state of mind, I chose to let my kids pick the colors for their new rooms and bathroom. I thought, “How bad could it be???” So we went to Lowes, and let the girls loose in the color swatch isle.
You can learn a lot about your kids when you do this… You can learn that there is not a chance in this world that they are yours…that somehow an alien must have implanted this wild color loving child into your womb, only to torture your beige, cream and black world as they grow up.
Caroline excited to be given any kind of control over her life, (typical middle child) came to me with the idea that every wall in her room could be a different color, one green, one yellow, one purple, one pink, and the ceiling could be orange. Not to worry, my summer wasn’t THAT BAD. Marshall on the other hand wanted her room to be lime green. We aren’t talking a cute little Mellon green; we are talking eyes gorged out of your head in pain bright green. Henry just wanted red, Mickey freaking Mouse red.
(I know that my father at this point is laughing because Red is his favorite color, along with any derivative of red that there is out there. My son is the same way. I suspect that secretly Pops is chalking one point up for him in the gene pool pass-along.)
I finally bargained enough to get the color scheme toned down a bit…but mind you, only ONE child toned it down to beige…and that was Henry. Pretty much I just took advantage of his short attention span. Then as I painted his room he started to cry and say he wanted red. Jamie, the one who seems to think that raising a boy means, let his do and have what ever he wants…made me feel guilty that the girls got what they wanted, and shamelessly went and got him red paint so that he could have one red wall!
I know, I know, what point is it being a parent if you relinquish all control? Head injury folks, Head injury…that is my story and I am sticking to it.
Here is what we ended up with. Caroline with a pink and yellow room,
Marshall with two blues, electric royal blue, and light blue,
Henry with Brown and Red…But...it does match his comforter that I am making him...
and yes….A LIME GREEN BATHROOM.
Look out grandparents; you will have a rude awakening when you stumble into that bathroom first thing in the morning!