OK, so I went to a Halloween party...and so I may have treated more than I tricked...did I HAVE to send my cell phone through the heavy wash cycle?
Because that just made my life SO MUCH EASIER...can you sense sarcasm?
I heard from many after an exasperated post on Face Book, that if I put it in rice for a few days it would dry it out. So I did...and it did...mind you the screen looks a little strange and the picture of my husband and I now looks like it was taken in one of those funny mirrors at a carnival with a squiggly forhead and such...but it charged and turned on. Although, it is saying I have no service...
*BIG SIGH*
Chalk one up for stupidity...
It did however, make me realize how addicted to cell phones we all are. I generally make my phone calls to away family on my way home from work at night. (no worries, I drive back roads and drive slow and even put it on speaker if I need to) Tonight I couldn't. But you know what?
I turned up my radio and sang like an idiot at the top of my lungs.
I realize that I missed doing that. So, if nothing else, I suppose I should thank the washing machine for giving me my "obnoxious-in-a-car-by-myself-singing-really-loud" times back.
While I understand that others that may meet me at an intersection head banging or screaming really loud and be very afraid that I might be having a seizure, I am happy that I was reminded just why I like being in a car by my self with out anyone I have to talk to.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Ahhh The Sins of our Youth
So I have posted many times about my little Caroline and her ability to put anything into a bag and collect it...rocks, sticks, leaves, stickers, starburst wrappers, small neighborhood children....what have you.
Her room generally shows this talent of hers, and when she is sent up to clean it, it becomes a 4 day marathon of crying, screaming, threats and ultimately a half cleaned room and a family exhausted of the fight.
I have to admit though, (as my parents are laughing reading this,) she comes by it honestly. I know that I was the same way.
Full of good intentions she goes up pulls out all her stuff to put away, and then…well, it is just begging to be played with while its being put away, and then….well, then she gets lost in her imaginary world and forgets that after about 5 hours her parents are going to completely loose their mind when they check on her because she has been in her room for 8 hours with out having picked up a thing, and in fact, it possibly could be messier than when she started the endeavor.
I am learning to be more patient…HOWEVER… she is also known for using trash to create all sorts of things…she will pull old non sticky stickers out of the trash because she doesn’t want to throw them away and use tape to re-stick them to various things…that they won’t come off of….like her lamp!
Her room generally shows this talent of hers, and when she is sent up to clean it, it becomes a 4 day marathon of crying, screaming, threats and ultimately a half cleaned room and a family exhausted of the fight.
I have to admit though, (as my parents are laughing reading this,) she comes by it honestly. I know that I was the same way.
Full of good intentions she goes up pulls out all her stuff to put away, and then…well, it is just begging to be played with while its being put away, and then….well, then she gets lost in her imaginary world and forgets that after about 5 hours her parents are going to completely loose their mind when they check on her because she has been in her room for 8 hours with out having picked up a thing, and in fact, it possibly could be messier than when she started the endeavor.
I am learning to be more patient…HOWEVER… she is also known for using trash to create all sorts of things…she will pull old non sticky stickers out of the trash because she doesn’t want to throw them away and use tape to re-stick them to various things…that they won’t come off of….like her lamp!
“Mom, that’s not trash…that is a sideways elevator that gets my Barbies from one side of my bed to the other without having to walk”
How could I have NOT KNOWN THAT????
Yes I am fully aware of my empty box obsession when I was a kid…I just can’t help thinking of the saying “The sins of our Fathers” and I am pretty sure that this is the result of a deal my parents struck with the universe when I had my children…so mom and dad?
Thanks A LOT….really…
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Right-O Mate, Wanna Cuppa?
One thing I have learned from my obsession with my Australian Ranch-opera is that Australian lingo does NOT translate.
In fact people may think that you have suffered a stroke if you start to use it with out warning here in America.
No matter how much I would love to say “Ta” instead of the cumbersome Thanks. And think that “I stuffed up” sounds so much nicer than “I screwed up” And some how that accent pulls me in every time, mine just can’t pull off the “Right-O.”
It’s depressing. Our insults seem so crass, and I am longing to call someone a Nob…Knob?…but see, I don’t even know the correct spelling…and its not really a good insult if you aren't sure what it means. (But is sounds good) So I guess I am going to have to stick to the coarse versions in our language.
I guess I will just have to get to it, and be a lover Aussie talk from afar.
**mind you I get the same way about our counterparts across the pond too…the English have it going on too.
In fact people may think that you have suffered a stroke if you start to use it with out warning here in America.
No matter how much I would love to say “Ta” instead of the cumbersome Thanks. And think that “I stuffed up” sounds so much nicer than “I screwed up” And some how that accent pulls me in every time, mine just can’t pull off the “Right-O.”
It’s depressing. Our insults seem so crass, and I am longing to call someone a Nob…Knob?…but see, I don’t even know the correct spelling…and its not really a good insult if you aren't sure what it means. (But is sounds good) So I guess I am going to have to stick to the coarse versions in our language.
I guess I will just have to get to it, and be a lover Aussie talk from afar.
**mind you I get the same way about our counterparts across the pond too…the English have it going on too.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A Lesson in Little Man Colds
OK so I know that I posted the You-Tube Man*** cold at some point. Because I thought it was funny and what ever...My husband told me I had to write a disclaimer that he is not like that… (wink wink nudge nudge)
Then Friday night happened and I have found there is something worse than a man cold… the dreaded LITTLE Man Cold.
Henry was happily running around a birthday party for a friend. No problem…certainly none when it came to downing a big cupcake. However by the time we ran my middle daughter to a birthday party… he was screaming at the top of his lungs “Oooowwwwww my THROAT hurts.”
I kindly suggested that perhaps his throat wouldn’t hurt if he didn’t scream, and that the more he screamed while I was driving the more likely I was to go careening into a telephone pole. This did not seem to have any affect.
By the time we got home he was…not kidding…lying on the floor writhing in pain and moaning. I really actually started to get worried. Perhaps aliens? Tse Tse Fly made an escape to Maine? The Swine Flu?
He moaned for 2 hours and then I finally just put him in bed. Concern and insomnia led me to his room at about 2 at which point I found he had a fever, and I got the really sad eyes and pitiful voice saying “please sleep with me”
I was going to resist but as I was leaving out his door the “oow oow oow ow ow” started again. Obligingly I got in bed and (did not sleep) comforted my child who was clearly having some sort of science fiction episode.
The next day he had a fever, looked like hell, lay around and asked for us to wait on him hand and foot and to be honest, played us like fiddles. I slept (not really attaining any real sleep) with him again that night because it was the only way to avoid the “OOOHHHH oww owww owwww”
The next morning dragging myself downstairs to make a mammoth size pot of coffee and splaying myself on the couch to try and recover from two nights of no sleep, I hear the sprite jumping footsteps coming down the stairs…
“Mom, I don’t have a fever anymore, let’s do something!” (And I checked…he didn’t)
Seriously? The child was on the brink of death, wore me out…and now was begging me to play…
Yup, give me man cold any day…the little man cold sucks.
*** I apologize to any of you manly men that read my blog...clearly I am not talking about you! :-)
Then Friday night happened and I have found there is something worse than a man cold… the dreaded LITTLE Man Cold.
Henry was happily running around a birthday party for a friend. No problem…certainly none when it came to downing a big cupcake. However by the time we ran my middle daughter to a birthday party… he was screaming at the top of his lungs “Oooowwwwww my THROAT hurts.”
I kindly suggested that perhaps his throat wouldn’t hurt if he didn’t scream, and that the more he screamed while I was driving the more likely I was to go careening into a telephone pole. This did not seem to have any affect.
By the time we got home he was…not kidding…lying on the floor writhing in pain and moaning. I really actually started to get worried. Perhaps aliens? Tse Tse Fly made an escape to Maine? The Swine Flu?
He moaned for 2 hours and then I finally just put him in bed. Concern and insomnia led me to his room at about 2 at which point I found he had a fever, and I got the really sad eyes and pitiful voice saying “please sleep with me”
I was going to resist but as I was leaving out his door the “oow oow oow ow ow” started again. Obligingly I got in bed and (did not sleep) comforted my child who was clearly having some sort of science fiction episode.
The next day he had a fever, looked like hell, lay around and asked for us to wait on him hand and foot and to be honest, played us like fiddles. I slept (not really attaining any real sleep) with him again that night because it was the only way to avoid the “OOOHHHH oww owww owwww”
The next morning dragging myself downstairs to make a mammoth size pot of coffee and splaying myself on the couch to try and recover from two nights of no sleep, I hear the sprite jumping footsteps coming down the stairs…
“Mom, I don’t have a fever anymore, let’s do something!” (And I checked…he didn’t)
Seriously? The child was on the brink of death, wore me out…and now was begging me to play…
Yup, give me man cold any day…the little man cold sucks.
*** I apologize to any of you manly men that read my blog...clearly I am not talking about you! :-)
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Boing Boing Hair
So the other day when I was getting ready to go to work, little man came into the bathroom with his hair soaking wet.
"What are you doing?" I asked
"I am trying to get my hair to do right." Henry responded with a brush stuck in his hair.
I am used to my kid’s role playing. I have been told it is developmental, if I am sweeping, they try to sweep, when I am cussing, they wander the house yelling various words that make your hair curl…that is how it works right?
So I didn’t really think much of it, until he started sifting through my closet and pulled out an old curler from 1982 and kept trying to put it in his hair. I thought hmmm, maybe I can help.
“Henry can I help you?”
“I am trying to get my hair like Justice’s”
This is a boy in his preschool, not being sure exactly WHO Justice was, I thought OK I can do boy hair…
I spiked his hair up and sprayed it…(he looked pretty cool) He was so excited he ran to his bathroom to see it in his mirror…
then I hear a shriek of horror…(apparently this is NOT how Justice does his hair) In utter hysteria, Henry runs into my bathroom…
“But that’s NOT how his hair is…now it is stuck this way, you glued it…” after about 10 minutes of instructional Yoga breathing and a little water on a comb, I brushed his hair out.
Moving his fingers in a circle at his forehead he said “His hair goes like this….”
“OHHHHHHHHH he has curly hair…” I nodded…being slightly worried that he knew how to use the curler when I don’t use them…I had to explain that his hair was too short and too straight to do that. After a large disappointed frown, he moved on to crashing his cars into the cat lying on his bed…
It did however remind me a little of Clementine by Sarah Pennypacker, she loved curly hair…she called it Boing Boing hair… A great book for kids, and on a side note, I think that the author totally channeled young Pie for the Clementine character…it was like reading a biography…scary.
"What are you doing?" I asked
"I am trying to get my hair to do right." Henry responded with a brush stuck in his hair.
I am used to my kid’s role playing. I have been told it is developmental, if I am sweeping, they try to sweep, when I am cussing, they wander the house yelling various words that make your hair curl…that is how it works right?
So I didn’t really think much of it, until he started sifting through my closet and pulled out an old curler from 1982 and kept trying to put it in his hair. I thought hmmm, maybe I can help.
“Henry can I help you?”
“I am trying to get my hair like Justice’s”
This is a boy in his preschool, not being sure exactly WHO Justice was, I thought OK I can do boy hair…
I spiked his hair up and sprayed it…(he looked pretty cool) He was so excited he ran to his bathroom to see it in his mirror…
then I hear a shriek of horror…(apparently this is NOT how Justice does his hair) In utter hysteria, Henry runs into my bathroom…
“But that’s NOT how his hair is…now it is stuck this way, you glued it…” after about 10 minutes of instructional Yoga breathing and a little water on a comb, I brushed his hair out.
Moving his fingers in a circle at his forehead he said “His hair goes like this….”
“OHHHHHHHHH he has curly hair…” I nodded…being slightly worried that he knew how to use the curler when I don’t use them…I had to explain that his hair was too short and too straight to do that. After a large disappointed frown, he moved on to crashing his cars into the cat lying on his bed…
It did however remind me a little of Clementine by Sarah Pennypacker, she loved curly hair…she called it Boing Boing hair… A great book for kids, and on a side note, I think that the author totally channeled young Pie for the Clementine character…it was like reading a biography…scary.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Children's Music
OK so I am taking this as a sign that I am on my third child....
I was standing in line with my little man and getting very disapproving looks from the older lady behind me because my 4 year old was dancing like a wild child and singing…really loud…”I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooong…..” (wait for it) “JACKET!” The gentleman standing with the older lady kind of smirked…but looked confused as Henry went on about fingernails like justice… I am assuming that they don’t listen to the band Cake very often…
Here’s the thing, when my eldest (who is turning 11) was a toddler, my car was always blaring Veggie Tales, Dan Zanes, and Raffi on a regular basis. In fact on one rare date with my husband, we got 45 minutes away from home and realized that we had been mindlessly singing to a "toddler hits" CD the whole way. (We very quickly changed over to Credence Clearwater to try to redeem ourselves...) Needless to say when my second child came along just 2 years later, we were still in the toddler phase, so we continued to bop around to Baby Beluga.
But then…I got tired of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” I knew the honeymoon was over when my sister and I on a long trip with just the babies, made up rated R words to “The Ants Go Marching One by One”…I had clearly moved on…
Henry’s favorite song is not “Little Blue Planet” or “Old Mac Donald” but rather “16 Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford, and “Jackson” by Johnny Cash. It’s all good, but I guess I need to expect the odd look every now and again.
…I am just waiting for him to break out into “They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said NO NO NO…”
I was standing in line with my little man and getting very disapproving looks from the older lady behind me because my 4 year old was dancing like a wild child and singing…really loud…”I want a girl with a short skirt and a looooong…..” (wait for it) “JACKET!” The gentleman standing with the older lady kind of smirked…but looked confused as Henry went on about fingernails like justice… I am assuming that they don’t listen to the band Cake very often…
Here’s the thing, when my eldest (who is turning 11) was a toddler, my car was always blaring Veggie Tales, Dan Zanes, and Raffi on a regular basis. In fact on one rare date with my husband, we got 45 minutes away from home and realized that we had been mindlessly singing to a "toddler hits" CD the whole way. (We very quickly changed over to Credence Clearwater to try to redeem ourselves...) Needless to say when my second child came along just 2 years later, we were still in the toddler phase, so we continued to bop around to Baby Beluga.
But then…I got tired of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” I knew the honeymoon was over when my sister and I on a long trip with just the babies, made up rated R words to “The Ants Go Marching One by One”…I had clearly moved on…
Henry’s favorite song is not “Little Blue Planet” or “Old Mac Donald” but rather “16 Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford, and “Jackson” by Johnny Cash. It’s all good, but I guess I need to expect the odd look every now and again.
…I am just waiting for him to break out into “They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said NO NO NO…”
Monday, October 5, 2009
What Does THAT Mean?
OK so I have talked about having crazy dreams before...I don't know whether they are stress induced, or perhaps Advil PM induced since that is the only way I catch ZZZ's anymore. Nonetheless they are weird!
So last night I was dreaming that we lived in this old industrial warehouse type thing with lots of widows for ceilings and iron bars. It was pouring rain, and our roof was leaking all over the place. Every time I would get a bucket under one of the leaks another place started…MDH did not seem concerned in the least.
That part is kind of blunt, but then, I went in our pantry and found a money bag with 1000$ in it from a fundraiser I had run for the library and forgotten to give them the money…it was over a year old, and I was freaking out that my sister was going to get in trouble and she was going to be so mad at me…and there were scary vagrants, and shady characters wandering in and out of my pantry, (yeah I know, what is that all about?) I was shocked that the money hadn’t gotten stolen.
THEN little man came down stairs and peed in our umbrella stand by the front door, and we all laughed…then I woke up.
Huh, me thinks a break from Advil PM is warranted…
So last night I was dreaming that we lived in this old industrial warehouse type thing with lots of widows for ceilings and iron bars. It was pouring rain, and our roof was leaking all over the place. Every time I would get a bucket under one of the leaks another place started…MDH did not seem concerned in the least.
That part is kind of blunt, but then, I went in our pantry and found a money bag with 1000$ in it from a fundraiser I had run for the library and forgotten to give them the money…it was over a year old, and I was freaking out that my sister was going to get in trouble and she was going to be so mad at me…and there were scary vagrants, and shady characters wandering in and out of my pantry, (yeah I know, what is that all about?) I was shocked that the money hadn’t gotten stolen.
THEN little man came down stairs and peed in our umbrella stand by the front door, and we all laughed…then I woke up.
Huh, me thinks a break from Advil PM is warranted…
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