1. Me on the way to the bus stop "Come on Buckaroo, lets roll, we have to get to the bus stop."
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?
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Friday, September 19, 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Gargantuan Children
My poor gargantuan children, it is so sad when it comes time for back to school shopping. I have three kids, and while they were all born normal sized, with in a year, they had grown as though they were in a personal race toward 6’5”.
My oldest child who is 9 looks like she is an awkward 14, my 7 year old looks like a 10 year old that is in line with all the little kids waiting to beat them up to steal their snacks. And Henry, well at barely 3, they thought he was a kindergartener when I took him to the girls’ orientation the other night.
Everyone says that it is wonderful to have tall children…and it is on many levels, but let me tell you, when your 2 year old, acts like, well, a 2 year old does, parents look at you in disgust and distain as though you have a terrible 6 year old still wearing diapers and unable to complete a sentence…and trust me I have had nasty comments from those sweater set moms at the playground before.
But school shopping? That is just a whole other thing all together. My girls, since they left 6X behind when they were in preschool, have been unable to dress their age unless I darn my thread and needle for years. Instead I go to the stores only to find clothes that for all intensive purposes, look like perhaps Goldie the transvestite Stripper may have put them in the dryer a little too long. I look longingly at the 3T-6X clothes and just WISH MY KIDS COULD FIT IN THEM.
If I really wanted my children to grow up to be pole dancers and strippers, I probably would have chosen better names…(What is that rule? The street you grew up on and your dogs name…Garrison Shane….)
I found myself flipping through the racks of gold sequins, and shorts that are cut off so short that I am not sure her back would be covered much less her butt. I mean what exactly IS the purpose of pants that are low riders, AND only have ½” hem line? Certainly not to clothe someone. I was waiting to see an ad for the tight shirts that was “Buy 3 and redeem coupon for free implants.”
Then there is the 80’s fashion that is coming back…you know those big shirts and leggings…OH MY RAINBOW, LIKE WHAT EVERRRRRR. I feel like the store has been repossessed by the Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. I mean, Gag me with a spoon. But I suppose it isn’t really the 80’s returns, it is more like the 80’s with a HO from the strip influence. Because I know I wasn’t let out of the house in materials that clung to my butt at 7 years old!
What is a mom to do? I picked the best I could, and sent my overgrown children to school hoping that no one would think that they were the teacher or held back for 10 years. It would be nice if making our kids look their age didn’t involve a platinum card, or a strange cult that wroships Laura Ingles. AHHHHHH the start of school, gotta love it.
My oldest child who is 9 looks like she is an awkward 14, my 7 year old looks like a 10 year old that is in line with all the little kids waiting to beat them up to steal their snacks. And Henry, well at barely 3, they thought he was a kindergartener when I took him to the girls’ orientation the other night.
Everyone says that it is wonderful to have tall children…and it is on many levels, but let me tell you, when your 2 year old, acts like, well, a 2 year old does, parents look at you in disgust and distain as though you have a terrible 6 year old still wearing diapers and unable to complete a sentence…and trust me I have had nasty comments from those sweater set moms at the playground before.
But school shopping? That is just a whole other thing all together. My girls, since they left 6X behind when they were in preschool, have been unable to dress their age unless I darn my thread and needle for years. Instead I go to the stores only to find clothes that for all intensive purposes, look like perhaps Goldie the transvestite Stripper may have put them in the dryer a little too long. I look longingly at the 3T-6X clothes and just WISH MY KIDS COULD FIT IN THEM.
If I really wanted my children to grow up to be pole dancers and strippers, I probably would have chosen better names…(What is that rule? The street you grew up on and your dogs name…Garrison Shane….)
I found myself flipping through the racks of gold sequins, and shorts that are cut off so short that I am not sure her back would be covered much less her butt. I mean what exactly IS the purpose of pants that are low riders, AND only have ½” hem line? Certainly not to clothe someone. I was waiting to see an ad for the tight shirts that was “Buy 3 and redeem coupon for free implants.”
Then there is the 80’s fashion that is coming back…you know those big shirts and leggings…OH MY RAINBOW, LIKE WHAT EVERRRRRR. I feel like the store has been repossessed by the Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink. I mean, Gag me with a spoon. But I suppose it isn’t really the 80’s returns, it is more like the 80’s with a HO from the strip influence. Because I know I wasn’t let out of the house in materials that clung to my butt at 7 years old!
What is a mom to do? I picked the best I could, and sent my overgrown children to school hoping that no one would think that they were the teacher or held back for 10 years. It would be nice if making our kids look their age didn’t involve a platinum card, or a strange cult that wroships Laura Ingles. AHHHHHH the start of school, gotta love it.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
What can I say? We have more about Boobahs
What to say... what to say... This has been the longest hiatus from blogging that I have taken since starting to write. I thought that I was just sending my brand of crazy out into cyber world with out anyone listening until I started to get emails wondering if Child Protective Services really had picked me up, or if I had been abducted by aliens. But alas, no, I simply had my life blow up in my face. So now after like 2 weeks of no writing I am forced to grapple with what to tell you about.I mean, should it be the addition? my dying garden? Or perhaps the rotting food on my counter that calls to me in my sleep as I dream of being attacked by smooshy cucumbers and squash. Should it be the first day of school? Nah...You know that my life is much more interesting than that...Ah...how about the fact that my son now feels the need to feel my up in public at very inappropriate times? Yeah, that is definitely more what you expect from me huh, yeah I know my pigeon hole don’t worry.So apparently I cannot wear a certain tank top in public with my son any more. I bought two of them. (They are not risqué mind you...I mean I got them at Eddie Bauer outlet... how risqué is Eddie Bauer? Seriously, they are the mom clothes of my generation, so we aren't talking sexy back here.) But whenever I wear them, my son has a very inappropriate response.
Yesterday while talking to my sister at the library, Henry felt the need to run his hands up and down the front of me enough that my sister and I, in a serious conversation, were trying not to spew coffee out our noses. I thought that it was a fluke; Henry was trying to get my attention because I was chatting with Steph.
BUT NO, I had to mail a package at the UPS center. I was trying to discuss the tracking number, and how this was going to work and again, my son, felt the need to feel me up in front of the man behind the counter (who was about 23 or so). So here is how it went down folks:
I put him down saying “stop it” in my embarrassed quiet voice.
Henry: “WHY?” in his screechy toddler voice
Me: “Henry, I am trying to talk to this man”
Man: Trying to look away, and pretend there was something really interesting on the ceiling, and on the floor, so that I might not notice that HE noticed that my son was inappropriately touching me.
Henry: “BUT I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME”
Me: “OK, I will hold you, but you need to sit still” still being squirrelly about addressing the real situation at hand.
I pick Henry back up, and immediately, he starts rubbing his hand up and down the front of my shirt. I put him down immediately. Being done with my transaction, I just say thank you and start to head out of the store. The man is clearly trying not to laugh, my face is BURNING…so could this just end like this? Nothing said, no mention of it, and everyone just pretending I didn’t just have a moment like tripping over the sidewalk in front of everyone…OH NO!
As we are leaving, Henry yells out at the top of his voice while stomping his feet
“BUT MOMMY I WANT TO FEEL YOUR BOOBAHS”
As I opened the door to leave, I hear the guy behind the counter along with everyone else in the entire store bust out laughing.
Yeah, I won’t be showing my face in that store again anytime soon.
Yesterday while talking to my sister at the library, Henry felt the need to run his hands up and down the front of me enough that my sister and I, in a serious conversation, were trying not to spew coffee out our noses. I thought that it was a fluke; Henry was trying to get my attention because I was chatting with Steph.
BUT NO, I had to mail a package at the UPS center. I was trying to discuss the tracking number, and how this was going to work and again, my son, felt the need to feel me up in front of the man behind the counter (who was about 23 or so). So here is how it went down folks:
I put him down saying “stop it” in my embarrassed quiet voice.
Henry: “WHY?” in his screechy toddler voice
Me: “Henry, I am trying to talk to this man”
Man: Trying to look away, and pretend there was something really interesting on the ceiling, and on the floor, so that I might not notice that HE noticed that my son was inappropriately touching me.
Henry: “BUT I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME”
Me: “OK, I will hold you, but you need to sit still” still being squirrelly about addressing the real situation at hand.
I pick Henry back up, and immediately, he starts rubbing his hand up and down the front of my shirt. I put him down immediately. Being done with my transaction, I just say thank you and start to head out of the store. The man is clearly trying not to laugh, my face is BURNING…so could this just end like this? Nothing said, no mention of it, and everyone just pretending I didn’t just have a moment like tripping over the sidewalk in front of everyone…OH NO!
As we are leaving, Henry yells out at the top of his voice while stomping his feet
“BUT MOMMY I WANT TO FEEL YOUR BOOBAHS”
As I opened the door to leave, I hear the guy behind the counter along with everyone else in the entire store bust out laughing.
Yeah, I won’t be showing my face in that store again anytime soon.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Reasons for an Ant Infestation
So I come home from another School Board meeting last night (I know real shocker!) and there is a strange Lego formation on my counter. I really didn't even think twice about it...the kids were playing with Lego’s, they weren't put away...(another real shocker!)
This morning while I am getting my coffee, my middle mischievous child is getting into the wheat thins. I, of course being the kind hearted, helpful parent that I am say:
"Hey, Get your hand out of there, if you want breakfast, fix yourself a bowl of cereal."
(Yeah I know, I AM the world’s greatest mom aren't I?)
Caroline looks at me all indignant and says:
"Moooooom it’s not for me, it’s for my Ants."
I want to remind you all that I haven't had my coffee yet, and I am facing a day of fasting**, neither of which makes Pie a happy girl, or the sharpest tool in the shed for that matter.
After about 2 minutes of looking at the contraption, then at Caroline, and then at my floor where the Jeff’s Way Battalion of Ants are marching in through the doors to attack my kitchen, I start to flip out. Looking inside her ant house, I find ground up crackers, and yes, about 5 ants…she not only built them a house, but is feeding them.
Since we have started construction we have had a steady stream of Ant Armies attacking our house. We have battled them stealthily, but now I realize that we have had a child in our house aiding and abetting the enemy. I am not sure if there is a punishment for that kind of treason… I am still looking for one.
However, from the Ants perspective, they probably feel that they are in a prison camp as they are thrown into a small cell together and have large wheat thins hurled at their heads…They will die hero’s to their kind I guess, having gone to get food and never returned.
**Its just me, but if you are going to schedule a procedure where someone has to fast for 7 hours before hand, don’t you think you would schedule it in the morning? OH NO, my appointment is at 2, let me tell you what a raving lunatic, head spinning, nasty human being I am going to be by 2…(I know I am whining when there are lots of people that don’t eat for days at a time…I just get really, really, frighteningly crabby with out food)…Jamie is going to be armed with a big stick and a cage when he comes to pick me up for my appointment!
This morning while I am getting my coffee, my middle mischievous child is getting into the wheat thins. I, of course being the kind hearted, helpful parent that I am say:
"Hey, Get your hand out of there, if you want breakfast, fix yourself a bowl of cereal."
(Yeah I know, I AM the world’s greatest mom aren't I?)
Caroline looks at me all indignant and says:
"Moooooom it’s not for me, it’s for my Ants."
I want to remind you all that I haven't had my coffee yet, and I am facing a day of fasting**, neither of which makes Pie a happy girl, or the sharpest tool in the shed for that matter.
After about 2 minutes of looking at the contraption, then at Caroline, and then at my floor where the Jeff’s Way Battalion of Ants are marching in through the doors to attack my kitchen, I start to flip out. Looking inside her ant house, I find ground up crackers, and yes, about 5 ants…she not only built them a house, but is feeding them.
Since we have started construction we have had a steady stream of Ant Armies attacking our house. We have battled them stealthily, but now I realize that we have had a child in our house aiding and abetting the enemy. I am not sure if there is a punishment for that kind of treason… I am still looking for one.
However, from the Ants perspective, they probably feel that they are in a prison camp as they are thrown into a small cell together and have large wheat thins hurled at their heads…They will die hero’s to their kind I guess, having gone to get food and never returned.
**Its just me, but if you are going to schedule a procedure where someone has to fast for 7 hours before hand, don’t you think you would schedule it in the morning? OH NO, my appointment is at 2, let me tell you what a raving lunatic, head spinning, nasty human being I am going to be by 2…(I know I am whining when there are lots of people that don’t eat for days at a time…I just get really, really, frighteningly crabby with out food)…Jamie is going to be armed with a big stick and a cage when he comes to pick me up for my appointment!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Things That Make You...
Want to push a stack of books onto someones foot and say "OH, whoops, I didn't see you there!"
1: Leila: "The sit down computers are all being used right now, you can have a stand up one"
Extremely Obnoxious Patron (EOP) "So I can't use one?"
Leila: "I am sorry all the computers are being used right now, it will be 45 minutes or so until one is free"
EOP: "So I have to use these? I have been shopping on my feet all day, I am tired."
Leila: "I am sorry all the computers are currently being used you will have to use a stand up one"
EOP: "So I can't use one?"
I am still not sure when this line of questioning ended...probably when Leila went into the back to drown herself in herbal popcorn to keep from punching the lady in the face.
2: Sneeze Wheeze, wipe your nose with your hand and then hand the book to me with the SAME hand...
Yes, THANK YOU for introducing the black plague to me and my family, when it kills me I will haunt you from the grave.
3. Again with the EOP...So, Um, do you think if you hit that key harder it will work better???
1: Leila: "The sit down computers are all being used right now, you can have a stand up one"
Extremely Obnoxious Patron (EOP) "So I can't use one?"
Leila: "I am sorry all the computers are being used right now, it will be 45 minutes or so until one is free"
EOP: "So I have to use these? I have been shopping on my feet all day, I am tired."
Leila: "I am sorry all the computers are currently being used you will have to use a stand up one"
EOP: "So I can't use one?"
I am still not sure when this line of questioning ended...probably when Leila went into the back to drown herself in herbal popcorn to keep from punching the lady in the face.
2: Sneeze Wheeze, wipe your nose with your hand and then hand the book to me with the SAME hand...
Yes, THANK YOU for introducing the black plague to me and my family, when it kills me I will haunt you from the grave.
3. Again with the EOP...So, Um, do you think if you hit that key harder it will work better???
A Scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre
Picture it: The serenity of the garden, a beautiful blue sky, nice breeze, the sound of the birds in the woods as you attempt to fight blight. (My summer long battle)
and your 7 year old running toward you screaming with blood all over her face and dripping onto her shirt.
ahhhh the serenity of parenthood.
So just when I expect to see a masked man wielding a chainsaw come chasing behind her, she starts laughing...and I realize...oh wait, my child has not been mauled by a psychopath...her front tooth fell out.
I have yet to figure out why this particular child seems to bleed so profusely from the mouth every time a tooth leaves her body...some how it is like her teeth decide to end their lives in tragic and melodramatic way...they must be in the acting business...
Yup my child has graduated from snaggle tooth to toothless...
***I wrote this on 8/2, both when I still had TIME, and when there WERE blue skies in Maine... I forgot to publish it, so I am now, since I have insomnia and I have had time to proof read it...right MOM???????
and your 7 year old running toward you screaming with blood all over her face and dripping onto her shirt.
ahhhh the serenity of parenthood.
So just when I expect to see a masked man wielding a chainsaw come chasing behind her, she starts laughing...and I realize...oh wait, my child has not been mauled by a psychopath...her front tooth fell out.
I have yet to figure out why this particular child seems to bleed so profusely from the mouth every time a tooth leaves her body...some how it is like her teeth decide to end their lives in tragic and melodramatic way...they must be in the acting business...
Yup my child has graduated from snaggle tooth to toothless...
***I wrote this on 8/2, both when I still had TIME, and when there WERE blue skies in Maine... I forgot to publish it, so I am now, since I have insomnia and I have had time to proof read it...right MOM???????
Monday, August 11, 2008
OH LOOK...
I think its going to RAIN again...I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!
(I say to myself as I put on my flip flops to go trudging through 6 inches of puddle in the walkways of my garden, to pick waterlogged plants that are dying!)
JOY
(I say to myself as I put on my flip flops to go trudging through 6 inches of puddle in the walkways of my garden, to pick waterlogged plants that are dying!)
JOY
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Yeah I know, I am a freak...
…a freaking freak for all intensive purposes. As I sit here typing, on my second glass of wine, after hearing hammers plugging a long all day (all month really,) and tile was laid, and all the other really...well you know, absolutely breath taking exciting things going on in my life...I write as a new member of Facebook.
OK so you are all "that is sooooo no big deal, even Obama is on face book...for goodness sake, even McCain is on face book for that matter." Yeah I know, and for the record...
I am all "I DON'T CARE IT IS MAKING ME FEEL OLD"
I signed up after my best friend from High School, and I dare say the only one who knows about my Beaker obsession (which I will touch on later) got on, and convinced me...by you know, twisting my arm, blackmailing and bribing me with the email "wanna try this?" I mean who can resist that??? Not me.
So after 5000 emails about how to increase the size of my manliness, and how to improve my sex life... I have signed on with Facebook... (On a side note: have you all noticed a huge increase in the amount of completely inappropriate emails you get after signing on?)
I will say that while I may feel like a complete "old chick in a short skirt" about the whole thing, since I don't know how to DO anything....I have enjoyed getting back in touch with some of my old friends. Many of my girlfriends from college are on, and have asked me to be their friend...sniff sniff, I know it IS AWESOME...
Not to mention a few others that are important to me, like a friend of mine from High School named Chris, who is probably one of the most inspirational people in my life...and another friend from High school, Tom, who...well, Tom...how do I even begin to explain him. He is about the funniest person I have ever met, and it was only after we fell out of touch that my nose started to heal after years of spewing milk out of it at lunch. He is about the nicest, kindest and not the least of which funniest people I know.
So here I sit, being an old chick, who is embracing the whole, you know...Internet thang...between my blog and Facebook, who knows, I may just have a blackberry before the end of it...(or are those are not cool anymore???) Oh well, I am just going to ride my new millennium wave while I can.
Leila aren’t you proud???
Monday, August 4, 2008
I can't remember, do I blog here?
So I guess I have had a bit of a hiatus from blogging. For the most part I have been struggling just to get the garage and garden updates up. (Which I know, are mind numbingly boring, but it has been a little all consuming…to say the least)
I took a little time off from blogging while my folks were around...which is funny because my mom went to read it while she was here and was all like "why aren't you posting?" and I was all like" because I am with you"
I don't think that she bought that as a reasonable excuse. But none-the-less I used it.
My family is the picture under the saying of “putting the fun back in dysfunctional” so one would think that I would have a lot of fodder for my blogging fire…and I do, but I am a little afraid that the name and number of that hit man that my in-laws are keeping on the payroll “just in case”, may get passed on to my folks if I write too much.
I am going to preface this story with saying that between the memory capacity of my 92 year old grandmother, my mom, and myself…well, there were a lot of “new” experiences and many “old stories.” that were experienced again, and again, and again…
I certainly am not going to laugh at my grandmother, because you know, that would make me a horrid person right?… However…When I took her to her Dr in NH (which my sister and I have taken her to for A LONG TIME, and we go the same way that she drove to come see us when she lived in Bath, lets just say…it ain’t uncharted waters.) We passed the big golf course on the Left and we did the usual:
Gran, “isn’t it so pretty”
Me: “Yeah, that is where I went to prom my freshman year with Rolf”
(Yeah, I know, that is another story for another time)
Gran: “Really? It is so pretty”
NOW ON THE WAY BACK, on the same road, looking at the same golf course...(now on the right)
Gran: “Wow, look at that golf course…when did that get built there? It is so pretty. I bet it is a lot of competition for that one you had your prom at.”
Me: “Uh...Yup, I bet it is”
Why bother letting her know? I have decided, what the heck?!? You get to see new things everyday in the same place you live…that has to keep life pretty exciting. “Hey where did this bathroom come from? Hmmm, it is nice; I think I will take a shower in it.”
Come on, I have a point! Again, I am not poking fun…I once thought I had a swim meet in Alberta Canada because I swore that building looked familiar. After about a week of driving my parents just looked at each other, shook their heads at their directionally challenged child, and said “mmmhmmm, you must have” It is now a family joke…I don't have to tell you, I don’t have a leg to stand on here.
I took a little time off from blogging while my folks were around...which is funny because my mom went to read it while she was here and was all like "why aren't you posting?" and I was all like" because I am with you"
I don't think that she bought that as a reasonable excuse. But none-the-less I used it.
My family is the picture under the saying of “putting the fun back in dysfunctional” so one would think that I would have a lot of fodder for my blogging fire…and I do, but I am a little afraid that the name and number of that hit man that my in-laws are keeping on the payroll “just in case”, may get passed on to my folks if I write too much.
I am going to preface this story with saying that between the memory capacity of my 92 year old grandmother, my mom, and myself…well, there were a lot of “new” experiences and many “old stories.” that were experienced again, and again, and again…
I certainly am not going to laugh at my grandmother, because you know, that would make me a horrid person right?… However…When I took her to her Dr in NH (which my sister and I have taken her to for A LONG TIME, and we go the same way that she drove to come see us when she lived in Bath, lets just say…it ain’t uncharted waters.) We passed the big golf course on the Left and we did the usual:
Gran, “isn’t it so pretty”
Me: “Yeah, that is where I went to prom my freshman year with Rolf”
(Yeah, I know, that is another story for another time)
Gran: “Really? It is so pretty”
NOW ON THE WAY BACK, on the same road, looking at the same golf course...(now on the right)
Gran: “Wow, look at that golf course…when did that get built there? It is so pretty. I bet it is a lot of competition for that one you had your prom at.”
Me: “Uh...Yup, I bet it is”
Why bother letting her know? I have decided, what the heck?!? You get to see new things everyday in the same place you live…that has to keep life pretty exciting. “Hey where did this bathroom come from? Hmmm, it is nice; I think I will take a shower in it.”
Come on, I have a point! Again, I am not poking fun…I once thought I had a swim meet in Alberta Canada because I swore that building looked familiar. After about a week of driving my parents just looked at each other, shook their heads at their directionally challenged child, and said “mmmhmmm, you must have” It is now a family joke…I don't have to tell you, I don’t have a leg to stand on here.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Shhhhh We are in the Library
If an 18 month old kid is lying on the floor crying and saying "I'm Tired, I want to go home" in the library what would be the correct response?
"Ok I know it is late, and the library is almost closing, I can get a book later and you are screaming really loud in the library so let’s just call it a day"?
OR
"I don’t know why you can't stand up and let me look for my book.” Meaning: Surely the librarians aren't minding your incessant screaming and disconcerting lying on the floor whining about being tired at 8 at night? I mean really, you are big enough at 18 months old to act right…now, you lay on the floor there and scream, but just not too loud so that I can continue to look for my books. AND WIPE THOSE CIRCLES OUT FROM UNDER YOUR EYES….humph you are such a child!”
Yeah I didn’t think it should be he second one either, unfortunately the kids mom did...arrrrgggghhhhh
"Ok I know it is late, and the library is almost closing, I can get a book later and you are screaming really loud in the library so let’s just call it a day"?
OR
"I don’t know why you can't stand up and let me look for my book.” Meaning: Surely the librarians aren't minding your incessant screaming and disconcerting lying on the floor whining about being tired at 8 at night? I mean really, you are big enough at 18 months old to act right…now, you lay on the floor there and scream, but just not too loud so that I can continue to look for my books. AND WIPE THOSE CIRCLES OUT FROM UNDER YOUR EYES….humph you are such a child!”
Yeah I didn’t think it should be he second one either, unfortunately the kids mom did...arrrrgggghhhhh
Friday, July 25, 2008
I AM DORK...
...hear me roar.
So I got some of my veggies at Agway this year. I have noticed that many times their flats get all mixed up etc...but generally pride myself on my veggie culture and feel that I generally can identify my stuff pretty well, you know not like novices...eh hem...
Last night I made my squash pickles, and in a rare burst of energy I decided that I would start on my dilly beans. (I also was thinking that these are things my dad likes, and his birthday is this week!)
Got the beans done, the water boiling for the bath, the vinegar in the pot etc... started to stuff my hot jars and get the "dill" from my garden rinsed. As I was rinsing I got a very interesting smell coming up to me...like black licorice....yup, you guessed it...I don't have fresh dill for my pickles and beans...I HAVE FENNEL....
Needless to say I frantically called around to try and get my dill from other gardeners or CSA people....I will have dilly beans for you dad, no worries... and next time I will smell my dill a little more before I buy it!
My sister emphatically suggested I NOT use the fennel to make fennel beans...she allowed as to how she would not eat them...(not that I was going to, we were just laughing) SO now I have to find something to do with my fennel and anise! Any thoughts!?
So I got some of my veggies at Agway this year. I have noticed that many times their flats get all mixed up etc...but generally pride myself on my veggie culture and feel that I generally can identify my stuff pretty well, you know not like novices...eh hem...
Last night I made my squash pickles, and in a rare burst of energy I decided that I would start on my dilly beans. (I also was thinking that these are things my dad likes, and his birthday is this week!)
Got the beans done, the water boiling for the bath, the vinegar in the pot etc... started to stuff my hot jars and get the "dill" from my garden rinsed. As I was rinsing I got a very interesting smell coming up to me...like black licorice....yup, you guessed it...I don't have fresh dill for my pickles and beans...I HAVE FENNEL....
Needless to say I frantically called around to try and get my dill from other gardeners or CSA people....I will have dilly beans for you dad, no worries... and next time I will smell my dill a little more before I buy it!
My sister emphatically suggested I NOT use the fennel to make fennel beans...she allowed as to how she would not eat them...(not that I was going to, we were just laughing) SO now I have to find something to do with my fennel and anise! Any thoughts!?
An Apple A Day???
It has been basically torrential down pours here for a week. I believe that there were tornados that touched down in NH. Of course they aren’t calling them that yet…because clearly the pictures of trees pulled out of the ground and a light pole snapped off like a twig aren’t enough…perhaps they need to have the side of a house pulled off while the guy is reading the paper on the john in order to classify it…don’t know.
So yesterday my daughter…(the dreaded chemistry set, dreaded backpack one) got her raincoat out. I would say she hasn’t worn it since…oh, maybe April. (This is important you will see)
She puts it on, and I hear a shriek. “WHAT IS THAT???”
She has pulled her hand out of her pocket with a look of disgust on her face. I peer into her pocket slowly in fear. Folks…I couldn’t tell what it was. At first it looked like a giant rat curled up in her coat pocket. I was going through all the instances in our life that would allow a rat into our house…(yeah ok, you all have seen how dirty it is, never mind.)
Refusing to touch it myself, I said “well what did it feel like?” hoping not to hear “Furry” as a response.
“Slimy” was the response I got. Then I started to get a little hot under the collar…this is my kid, who just 2 weeks ago realized that she hadn’t unloaded her lunch box from the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL! She is the one that when we clean out under her bed we are fairly sure that we are going to find immigrants waiting for citizenship. She is the one that seems to have a habit of “forgetting” to clean up after herself, and now, she was the one with a rotten apple, (yes apple) from April, in her coat pocket.
With the gag reflex being what it is my family, you can only imagine what the clean up was like…it was a whole lot of yelling, gagging, and then eventually giggling because really? And I think my mom will agree…it is SOOOOOOOO something I would have done.
So yesterday my daughter…(the dreaded chemistry set, dreaded backpack one) got her raincoat out. I would say she hasn’t worn it since…oh, maybe April. (This is important you will see)
She puts it on, and I hear a shriek. “WHAT IS THAT???”
She has pulled her hand out of her pocket with a look of disgust on her face. I peer into her pocket slowly in fear. Folks…I couldn’t tell what it was. At first it looked like a giant rat curled up in her coat pocket. I was going through all the instances in our life that would allow a rat into our house…(yeah ok, you all have seen how dirty it is, never mind.)
Refusing to touch it myself, I said “well what did it feel like?” hoping not to hear “Furry” as a response.
“Slimy” was the response I got. Then I started to get a little hot under the collar…this is my kid, who just 2 weeks ago realized that she hadn’t unloaded her lunch box from the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL! She is the one that when we clean out under her bed we are fairly sure that we are going to find immigrants waiting for citizenship. She is the one that seems to have a habit of “forgetting” to clean up after herself, and now, she was the one with a rotten apple, (yes apple) from April, in her coat pocket.
With the gag reflex being what it is my family, you can only imagine what the clean up was like…it was a whole lot of yelling, gagging, and then eventually giggling because really? And I think my mom will agree…it is SOOOOOOOO something I would have done.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Funny Story
A while ago when I was looking on Amazon for good books for the kids, I ran across this one. I thought it was pretty funny because we have a cat that we call "Fatty." I know it is mean, and he has been known to get a little sensitive about it, but if you saw him belly up to the cat dish, oh...800 times a day, you would get it. I figured one of these days I would get around to posting it.
Then…
The other night, he solidified his reign as the "fatty King" forever. We were all sitting around, late at night, enjoying the blissful silence of the 6 children in sleep coma. (This truly was a blissful time in all of our days, we almost didn't want to go to sleep...because we were fairly sure, that if we did, morning would come and ... yup, then they woke up.)
All of the sudden the basement door started rattling and banging back and forth. I calmly stated “Oh that is just fatty stuck in the cat door.” This is a fairly common occurrence. He gets a little hung up and just rocks back and forth and then comes through…
But then…
Crash, bang, tumble, stumble.
My husband, who was the only one who seemed to be able to get to the door fast enough, opened the door and started laughing as Sugar Ray, “Fatty,” came running frantically into the room. This is when we noticed that he had gotten so stuck that he pulled part of the cat door off, and it was stuck around his middle.
I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t even get up to get my camera before he ran up the stairs…banging as he went, when the plastic door, securely around his middle hit each stair, scaring him further into running faster…making more banging noises, making him run faster…you get the picture.
It did finally slip off…I am not sure whether all his fur flying off in fear made it slip off or what…
Now before you get all “you are horrible, why didn’t you help him” on me. Let me tell you, I was laughing too hard to move. Honestly…laughing and moving are just not in the cards after three kids, unless I intend on extensive clean up afterward!
Sugar Ray is OK, a bit of a bruised ego I would imagine, but no worse for wear…but damn if he hasn’t avoided that cat door….
The other night, he solidified his reign as the "fatty King" forever. We were all sitting around, late at night, enjoying the blissful silence of the 6 children in sleep coma. (This truly was a blissful time in all of our days, we almost didn't want to go to sleep...because we were fairly sure, that if we did, morning would come and ... yup, then they woke up.)
All of the sudden the basement door started rattling and banging back and forth. I calmly stated “Oh that is just fatty stuck in the cat door.” This is a fairly common occurrence. He gets a little hung up and just rocks back and forth and then comes through…
But then…
Crash, bang, tumble, stumble.
My husband, who was the only one who seemed to be able to get to the door fast enough, opened the door and started laughing as Sugar Ray, “Fatty,” came running frantically into the room. This is when we noticed that he had gotten so stuck that he pulled part of the cat door off, and it was stuck around his middle.
I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t even get up to get my camera before he ran up the stairs…banging as he went, when the plastic door, securely around his middle hit each stair, scaring him further into running faster…making more banging noises, making him run faster…you get the picture.
It did finally slip off…I am not sure whether all his fur flying off in fear made it slip off or what…
Now before you get all “you are horrible, why didn’t you help him” on me. Let me tell you, I was laughing too hard to move. Honestly…laughing and moving are just not in the cards after three kids, unless I intend on extensive clean up afterward!
Sugar Ray is OK, a bit of a bruised ego I would imagine, but no worse for wear…but damn if he hasn’t avoided that cat door….
Before you tell me he isn't that fat, these are after he has "lost" his winter weight, and he weighs about 17 pounds...He Ain't Little.....But he is kinda cute...so we will keep him, if nothing else for entertainment purposes! LOL (Don't get all PETA on me now!)
Seriously?
Seriously?
I really, really, want this garage to get done. Those of you who have heard me complain, cajole, rant, and rave know, I want to get this thing done. So don't get me wrong. I am really happy that we are making such progress on it. So happy in fact, that at 6:00 this morning when the builder came and started his saw, which created a strange sort of cross between flash backs to teaching middle school shop, and the Texas chainsaw massacre in my dreams, I didn’t even attempt to march outside and impale him with a 2X4. See? I am growing. Growing I tell ya!
Brad, I promise, promise, promise, I will post another picture later on today…but just to give you an idea, the plywood is up! Hoping that we will see a second floor starting…too soon to tell, but since Rob ("Rob The Builder"…yes I did sing that to him, and I suspect he was ready to impale ME with a 2X4) got here before even the most daring rooster down the road started, I suspect we may see some progress in that direction!
I really, really, want this garage to get done. Those of you who have heard me complain, cajole, rant, and rave know, I want to get this thing done. So don't get me wrong. I am really happy that we are making such progress on it. So happy in fact, that at 6:00 this morning when the builder came and started his saw, which created a strange sort of cross between flash backs to teaching middle school shop, and the Texas chainsaw massacre in my dreams, I didn’t even attempt to march outside and impale him with a 2X4. See? I am growing. Growing I tell ya!
Brad, I promise, promise, promise, I will post another picture later on today…but just to give you an idea, the plywood is up! Hoping that we will see a second floor starting…too soon to tell, but since Rob ("Rob The Builder"…yes I did sing that to him, and I suspect he was ready to impale ME with a 2X4) got here before even the most daring rooster down the road started, I suspect we may see some progress in that direction!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Elvis Has Not Left the Building
I haven't given up on my daily groaning about the drudgery of life, I have simply taken a small vacation. You know the kind of vacation where: Your grandmother falls and breaks her collar bone and sends the family into "on alert" mode...Your sister-in-laws family of 5 (almost 6 hee hee hee) comes to visit for the week...the addition to the house begins, and the car breaks down (of course,) and you get the first heat wave of the year (without air conditioning of course) all at the same time. It was like the perfect storm, a convergence of stress that creates the biggest shit storm of the century!
BUT being the Pollyanna that I am...(sense the sarcasm?) I have to say, I loved spending time with the Gonzalez family, whom I adore, and my uncle was here to take on the first part of Nurse Nightingale, and hopefully the fuel pump that went bad in our car will not cost us our first born child...however, the way she acted this week, we might consider that a good deal!
Per request of my very excited father in law, here is the most recent, (this morning) picture of the progress of our garage addition.
I will commence my snark fest tonight or tomorrow morning...because with 10 people in 1700 sq feet...there is bound to be some funny stories right????
BUT being the Pollyanna that I am...(sense the sarcasm?) I have to say, I loved spending time with the Gonzalez family, whom I adore, and my uncle was here to take on the first part of Nurse Nightingale, and hopefully the fuel pump that went bad in our car will not cost us our first born child...however, the way she acted this week, we might consider that a good deal!
Per request of my very excited father in law, here is the most recent, (this morning) picture of the progress of our garage addition.
I will commence my snark fest tonight or tomorrow morning...because with 10 people in 1700 sq feet...there is bound to be some funny stories right????
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Nothing Like a Jolt of BEEPS to Wake You
This morning, the kids were tired. I had to work last night so they stayed up late...but I can't blame a saturated fat coma on Jamie this time, I made lasagna for them before I left for work...I know, I know, that was very motherly of me, and yes, I am going to hang onto those "Good Mother Points" as long as possible; because it may have to cancel out the "two glass of wine mouthiness after I got home points."
So the little angels were sleeping in their beds, I was reading my morning blogs, and having my Life Juice (coffee) in blissful quiet...when BEEP BEEP BEEP entered the picture. All the sweet little birds that were chirping and wildlife that was residing in our woods ran like hell and screamed...(they still have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome from the Target shopping center that was put into our woods 1/2 mile behind us.)
Within minutes the excavator was breaking ground for our new garage. (We had to; Jamie's old, non running truck was running out of storage space...) My kids with hair, well you have seen what their hair looks like, came to the top of the stairs, reeling and holding them selves up with the wall in their sleepy comatose state...
"MOM, WHAT IS THAT?" a nervous voice said to me...later it was revealed that they seem to have thought the turnpike was re-routed through our yard... (I never said that anyone in my house was logical...well maybe Jamie, but the engineer in him made him that way.)
The boy rolled his eyes (yes rolled his eyes) and said "I want to sleep in your bed." Which I gladly agreed to, because, he is NOT a lovely tired person...he is second to Satan when he is tired.
So he is happily sleeping away while the excavator starts to dig up our yard...he is actually going to be mad when he wakes up...but its not a John Deere so I don't feel too bad letting him sleep through it.
So the little angels were sleeping in their beds, I was reading my morning blogs, and having my Life Juice (coffee) in blissful quiet...when BEEP BEEP BEEP entered the picture. All the sweet little birds that were chirping and wildlife that was residing in our woods ran like hell and screamed...(they still have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome from the Target shopping center that was put into our woods 1/2 mile behind us.)
Within minutes the excavator was breaking ground for our new garage. (We had to; Jamie's old, non running truck was running out of storage space...) My kids with hair, well you have seen what their hair looks like, came to the top of the stairs, reeling and holding them selves up with the wall in their sleepy comatose state...
"MOM, WHAT IS THAT?" a nervous voice said to me...later it was revealed that they seem to have thought the turnpike was re-routed through our yard... (I never said that anyone in my house was logical...well maybe Jamie, but the engineer in him made him that way.)
The boy rolled his eyes (yes rolled his eyes) and said "I want to sleep in your bed." Which I gladly agreed to, because, he is NOT a lovely tired person...he is second to Satan when he is tired.
So he is happily sleeping away while the excavator starts to dig up our yard...he is actually going to be mad when he wakes up...but its not a John Deere so I don't feel too bad letting him sleep through it.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Philosophical Sunday
I have this image thing. I have always been irritated with people who are constantly trying to portray a certain image because they are trying to be something they aren’t. Doing what ever the “in” thing is at the moment and trying to attain some standing in society through putting us all on. But this morning I started to think, don’t we all do that to some extent?
I majored in Sustainable Development and Agriculture in college; this was back when I wanted to save the world, nay, back when I still thought I could save the world. So this whole movement to whole foods and supporting your local agriculture is actually really exciting me, and getting my juices flowing. But there is a huge part of me (mainly that chip that resides on my shoulder) that doesn’t want to admit it.
It has become the “in” thing to do, and innately, I seem to run and hide from that kind of thing. Maybe it is the rebel that has always lived in me. I grew up not wanting to be just the same as everyone else, I wanted to be different. I did the whole black combat boot, “black phase” thing, (before there was a goth cool thing, trust me, I was not cool), then when I went to college and everyone was doing the yuppie thing, I did the flannel shirt and “naturific” thing, and even as a mom, I am always trying to buck the system, and not be considered “one of them”…(and to be honest, I am not really sure what that means, or that it would be a bad thing to begin with.)
I realized that sometimes we care more about out image than we do about the things that really matter. We are so caught up in portraying something with our image that the only way that we help people or do anything, is if it is going to further our “status” or the image that we are desperately trying to attain. But an image is just that. When you step away from that mirror, it no longer exists, and what you are left with is YOU. All the posturing and self importance in the world isn’t going to make that reflection a lasting thing, or change who the real person is behind that reflection.
So in my insistence not to do the “in” thing because I don’t want to be seen as just trying to fit in…what does that say about me? What am I trying to get to look back at me in the mirror?
I guess as I sprint toward my mid-life (and with my health, have probably well passed it and not realized it!) I am slowly starting to realize that my desire to not leave this earth until it is better for my having been here is my goal…and who the hell cares what someone else’s baggage and image attaining desires are? In the end, I have to turn away from that mirror, and I want to like who I am stuck with…not care whether someone else does or not.
I know, I know, I don't know WHAT was in my coffee this morning!
I majored in Sustainable Development and Agriculture in college; this was back when I wanted to save the world, nay, back when I still thought I could save the world. So this whole movement to whole foods and supporting your local agriculture is actually really exciting me, and getting my juices flowing. But there is a huge part of me (mainly that chip that resides on my shoulder) that doesn’t want to admit it.
It has become the “in” thing to do, and innately, I seem to run and hide from that kind of thing. Maybe it is the rebel that has always lived in me. I grew up not wanting to be just the same as everyone else, I wanted to be different. I did the whole black combat boot, “black phase” thing, (before there was a goth cool thing, trust me, I was not cool), then when I went to college and everyone was doing the yuppie thing, I did the flannel shirt and “naturific” thing, and even as a mom, I am always trying to buck the system, and not be considered “one of them”…(and to be honest, I am not really sure what that means, or that it would be a bad thing to begin with.)
I realized that sometimes we care more about out image than we do about the things that really matter. We are so caught up in portraying something with our image that the only way that we help people or do anything, is if it is going to further our “status” or the image that we are desperately trying to attain. But an image is just that. When you step away from that mirror, it no longer exists, and what you are left with is YOU. All the posturing and self importance in the world isn’t going to make that reflection a lasting thing, or change who the real person is behind that reflection.
So in my insistence not to do the “in” thing because I don’t want to be seen as just trying to fit in…what does that say about me? What am I trying to get to look back at me in the mirror?
I guess as I sprint toward my mid-life (and with my health, have probably well passed it and not realized it!) I am slowly starting to realize that my desire to not leave this earth until it is better for my having been here is my goal…and who the hell cares what someone else’s baggage and image attaining desires are? In the end, I have to turn away from that mirror, and I want to like who I am stuck with…not care whether someone else does or not.
I know, I know, I don't know WHAT was in my coffee this morning!
Friday, June 27, 2008
A Cute Little Story for a Friday Afternoon
This week has been an insane week. One of those weeks where you have a meeting every night of the week...which is kind of interesting since I don't even work in my career anymore...so what the heck? I am volunteering to have my life be a running around mess...this is definitely something that I have to think about...But I do smile when I think of this story so I am going to pass it along.
My father in law who, for the record, still visits the barber regularly to trim the sides of his hair and to make sure that there isn't any major fuzz action happening where it shouldn’t, was sitting in front of Caroline...being the sweetie pie that she is, she was rubbing the top of his head lovingly.
Suddenly, a shocked and astounded Caroline proclaimed loudly: “Papa! Your hair is growing back!”
I feel fairly confident telling this story because I am pretty sure that “papa” laughed harder than the rest of us. I would not however tell this story if it was my husband, who is just now figuring out that he is going bald. This is due to an unfortunate incident with a security camera at a Wendy’s.
(He was looking at the security camera TV, observing the bald spot on a man in front of him, when in a face draining moment, he realized that it was his own head he was observing in the camera.)
Now he is a little sensitive about the whole thing...so I am going to not go there...because I fear the retaliation, there are PLENTY of things that I don't particularly like to admit are happening to my body...and let me tell ya, it ain't all pretty that is FOR SURE!
Have a good weekend to all!
My father in law who, for the record, still visits the barber regularly to trim the sides of his hair and to make sure that there isn't any major fuzz action happening where it shouldn’t, was sitting in front of Caroline...being the sweetie pie that she is, she was rubbing the top of his head lovingly.
Suddenly, a shocked and astounded Caroline proclaimed loudly: “Papa! Your hair is growing back!”
I feel fairly confident telling this story because I am pretty sure that “papa” laughed harder than the rest of us. I would not however tell this story if it was my husband, who is just now figuring out that he is going bald. This is due to an unfortunate incident with a security camera at a Wendy’s.
(He was looking at the security camera TV, observing the bald spot on a man in front of him, when in a face draining moment, he realized that it was his own head he was observing in the camera.)
Now he is a little sensitive about the whole thing...so I am going to not go there...because I fear the retaliation, there are PLENTY of things that I don't particularly like to admit are happening to my body...and let me tell ya, it ain't all pretty that is FOR SURE!
Have a good weekend to all!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
What Happens When You Have Two Older Sisters...
Sometimes you want to play a little dress up and then play with your remote control tractors...sometimes you want to be a lion...sometimes the best you can do is a cat suit with a fuzzy tail and a remote control with no batteries, and you just have to lean back and look cool about it...
Yeah I know, even Jamie called him "Heff" this morning...you should see him in his robe...it is a little frightening. But I have to say, Jamie has certainly loosened up a little with him being the third kid...He even allowed him to go out for ice cream in this getup...He didn't let him out of the car....but he went out for ice cream...baby steps...just baby steps.
Yeah I know, even Jamie called him "Heff" this morning...you should see him in his robe...it is a little frightening. But I have to say, Jamie has certainly loosened up a little with him being the third kid...He even allowed him to go out for ice cream in this getup...He didn't let him out of the car....but he went out for ice cream...baby steps...just baby steps.Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Present Time, Present Time...
Open the Present and See What's Inside!
I know, I know, a bit anticlimactic, but I was thrilled when the mail lady beeped for me in my driveway!
(I do the anthem thingy where you track your exercise and then they send you ridiculously cheap things as a reward! But I figure since its only sweat I am paying with, its cool.) So I ordered the Grill and Go! I am looking forward to some charcoal burgers at the beach this week! YEEEHAAWWW.
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