P.S. That's Big Tuna, whining in the background. He stubbed his toe doing his new "tiptoe dance." Seriously.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Totally 70s
Here's Reese, dancing in her brown pants and polka dot turtleneck to Shakedown Street, by the Grateful Dead. I love this kid.
P.S. That's Big Tuna, whining in the background. He stubbed his toe doing his new "tiptoe dance." Seriously.
P.S. That's Big Tuna, whining in the background. He stubbed his toe doing his new "tiptoe dance." Seriously.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Who Are You Voting For?
Political conversations at home:
Aaron: (seeing The O'Reilly Factor on the TV) Hey girls, are you getting political on us?
Avery: What? I don't know what you are saying.
Aaron: Who are you voting for?
Avery: What? I don't know...what do you mean?
Aaron: Listen, if you don't pick a candidate, you can't gripe about what is going on in America.
Avery: In America?
Me, chiming in: If your taxes go sky high in a few months, I don't want to hear you complaining or asking for money.
Avery: What?
Reese: What? Taxes? (giggles) What?
Aaron: Pick one. McCain or Obama
Avery: I don't know
Reese: (giggles) NO WAY!
Me: You have to pick one. You can't not pick one and then go around griping about the way our country is run.
Avery: Ok then, I pick B'Cain.
Me: Who?
Avery: B'Cain. Wait. What is it?
Me: No, you got it. What about you, Reesie?
Reese: (rolls her eyes) Um, Oh Mama
Me: Who?
Reese: I pick Oh Mama
There you have it folks. You have two weeks to make a decision. B'Cain or Oh Mama. Who do you choose?????
Aaron: (seeing The O'Reilly Factor on the TV) Hey girls, are you getting political on us?
Avery: What? I don't know what you are saying.
Aaron: Who are you voting for?
Avery: What? I don't know...what do you mean?
Aaron: Listen, if you don't pick a candidate, you can't gripe about what is going on in America.
Avery: In America?
Me, chiming in: If your taxes go sky high in a few months, I don't want to hear you complaining or asking for money.
Avery: What?
Reese: What? Taxes? (giggles) What?
Aaron: Pick one. McCain or Obama
Avery: I don't know
Reese: (giggles) NO WAY!
Me: You have to pick one. You can't not pick one and then go around griping about the way our country is run.
Avery: Ok then, I pick B'Cain.
Me: Who?
Avery: B'Cain. Wait. What is it?
Me: No, you got it. What about you, Reesie?
Reese: (rolls her eyes) Um, Oh Mama
Me: Who?
Reese: I pick Oh Mama
There you have it folks. You have two weeks to make a decision. B'Cain or Oh Mama. Who do you choose?????
They Tell Everything
Just when you think you are too old to be embarrassed about things your kids do, your child's kindergarten teacher sends this email:
So, I heard today that you have a really cool beer opener that sings the OU fight song?!
One more point in the Parent-of-the-Year column.
(P.S. I'm not sure if I'm more embarrassed that her teacher knows we drink beer or that someone in our house likes OU!)
So, I heard today that you have a really cool beer opener that sings the OU fight song?!
One more point in the Parent-of-the-Year column.
(P.S. I'm not sure if I'm more embarrassed that her teacher knows we drink beer or that someone in our house likes OU!)
Monday, October 20, 2008
Negativity
You know, I've just about gotten used to negative comments and emails. Most of the negative comments I've had come from "anonymous" and like our pastor once said, "If someone doesn't have the guts to sign their name, then you don't need to pay any attention to what they have to say." Most of the negative things I've gotten are just general disagreements with what I've said, which I welcome. But this comment from Friday kind of bugged me:
Maybe you wouldn't feel so guilty if you let your husband go and do something on his own. Sounds like you are always the one going and doing and he is working hard to take care of his family. Not that a mother of 3 doesn't need a break occasionally, but so does a father of 3 who is providing the sole support.
First, let me just say that when you leave a comment, even if you don't put your name, your IP address is recorded, as well as the town in which that IP address is listed. So I know who left the comment. And maybe that's why it bugs me. Because I know who left it and she doesn't know a thing about me, my husband or our life.
Second of all, I agree with one of the statements: A father of three who is providing the sole support deserves a break. And not that I have to defend my actions of going to visit my brother for the first time in two years, but I felt like I wanted to let "anonymous" know this:
My husband is wonderful. And he is our sole provider and I try to let him know how much I appreciate him as often as I can. But he does get breaks. There are days at a time when my car doesn't leave the driveway. I babysit a small child during the day to help make ends meet so I don't have to ask for extra money when we're out of diapers and milk, so I'm stuck at home 5 days a week.
Aaron eats out every day, sometimes at 5 star restaurants. I realize he's working, but socializing and taking a 2 hour lunch break is a bit of a luxury to someone who has had to find ways to make turkey on wheat bread interesting. He also has a gym membership, with plenty of time to use it. He is in two fantasy football leagues, one of which held their draft on my birthday. I didn't complain once that I was home with three kids while he was out drinking with friends. He deserves the break.
He plays golf. He goes out of town at least twice a month and stays in a nice hotel. He has a mountain bike, which he takes to the biking trails and is gone for 2-4 hours on a Saturday.
Finally, I don't write about alot of the things he does because frankly, this is MY blog and it's about MY life. Talking about what he's out doing sounds like whining or complaining, in my opinion, which is why you don't know that he gets lots and lots of breaks. I don't, which is why it's so extraordinary for me to be leaving my kids for three nights. If I did it all the time, I doubt I'd have an ounce of guilt about it.
Sorry to be negative, but this comment really bugged me. I wanted to set the record straight and rather than let my husband handle it personally, like he really wanted to, I thought I'd just clear it up for everyone just in case there was someone else who thinks I am "always going and doing."
Have a nice day. Really.
Maybe you wouldn't feel so guilty if you let your husband go and do something on his own. Sounds like you are always the one going and doing and he is working hard to take care of his family. Not that a mother of 3 doesn't need a break occasionally, but so does a father of 3 who is providing the sole support.
First, let me just say that when you leave a comment, even if you don't put your name, your IP address is recorded, as well as the town in which that IP address is listed. So I know who left the comment. And maybe that's why it bugs me. Because I know who left it and she doesn't know a thing about me, my husband or our life.
Second of all, I agree with one of the statements: A father of three who is providing the sole support deserves a break. And not that I have to defend my actions of going to visit my brother for the first time in two years, but I felt like I wanted to let "anonymous" know this:
My husband is wonderful. And he is our sole provider and I try to let him know how much I appreciate him as often as I can. But he does get breaks. There are days at a time when my car doesn't leave the driveway. I babysit a small child during the day to help make ends meet so I don't have to ask for extra money when we're out of diapers and milk, so I'm stuck at home 5 days a week.
Aaron eats out every day, sometimes at 5 star restaurants. I realize he's working, but socializing and taking a 2 hour lunch break is a bit of a luxury to someone who has had to find ways to make turkey on wheat bread interesting. He also has a gym membership, with plenty of time to use it. He is in two fantasy football leagues, one of which held their draft on my birthday. I didn't complain once that I was home with three kids while he was out drinking with friends. He deserves the break.
He plays golf. He goes out of town at least twice a month and stays in a nice hotel. He has a mountain bike, which he takes to the biking trails and is gone for 2-4 hours on a Saturday.
Finally, I don't write about alot of the things he does because frankly, this is MY blog and it's about MY life. Talking about what he's out doing sounds like whining or complaining, in my opinion, which is why you don't know that he gets lots and lots of breaks. I don't, which is why it's so extraordinary for me to be leaving my kids for three nights. If I did it all the time, I doubt I'd have an ounce of guilt about it.
Sorry to be negative, but this comment really bugged me. I wanted to set the record straight and rather than let my husband handle it personally, like he really wanted to, I thought I'd just clear it up for everyone just in case there was someone else who thinks I am "always going and doing."
Have a nice day. Really.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Guilt and Gratitude
Those of you who know me best know this about me: I have lots of feelings. About everything. I'm an emotional person and I don't hide those emotions well at all. More often than not, I have so many dang emotions that they conflict with each other. Today is one of those days. I'm feeling an enormous amount of gratitude for lots of things, but also tons of guilt. I think, in order to give myself the therapy that I don't have time to go to, I'll just jot these things down.
I feel so lucky to have the husband that I have. He's letting me go this weekend to stay with my brother, Bo, in Kingsville, where he's the head coach at Texas A&M Kingsville. We couldn't really afford for all 5 of us to go this football season, but I was dying to see where Bo and April live, so Aaron said I could have his airline miles to buy a ticket and go by myself. My brother, Josh, is going too, without his wife and kids. I'm not sure why they couldn't go, but it just worked out that way.
The flip side of this is that I feel horribly guilty that he's staying home for 3 nights and 4 days by himself. I feel bad that we're leaving Josh's wife home alone with their kids while we have fun. Aaron has mentioned several times how the girls' arguing and whining. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to help with this. They will whine and argue and he will be impatient and frustrated. And he will want me here. And I feel guilty about having fun while he's at home feeling pissy. But also grateful that they will miss me. But mostly guilty.
I am grateful for the great friends that I have. I have a friend, Jennifer, who was talking with me earlier about some 100 calorie peanut butter packs they have at Starbucks and she is bringing me one today just because. My friend Kealey sent her husband over with a Weight Watcher's ice cream bar one day just because I was craving chocolate but am on a diet that won't allow cupcakes or ice cream. I feel guilty because I never do nice things for my friends. I mean, I think I am a nice friend and I would do whatever they asked me to do, but I don't go out of my way to do things like that. That makes me feel guilty. Mostly grateful, but also guilty.
I am grateful that my husband doesn't gripe at me about money. But I feel guilty that I bought a new pair of heels that I will wear, at best, once a month, and he didn't even say anything. Imagine if you had to work all week long, only to come home to a wife who shops online with your money. I feel really bad about that.
Ok, wait...I have a new feeling. I can't describe it, so I took a picture. (Not of the feeling, of course, but when you look at the picture, you can imagine what I'm feeling) It's of a pair of people who never feel guilt OR gratitude, from what I can tell.
First of all, those were clean, folded clothes. The baby on the left is the baby I keep every day. She and Rhett have become quite a pair since she became mobile. Neither of them are one bit grateful that I'm standing in the kitchen, as I type, making grilled cheese sandwiches and cut-up fruit for lunch. Nor are they grateful that I spent the last two days folding clothes to fill up that laundry basket.
It doesn't appear that they feel one bit guilty about the fact that, while standing a mere 10 feet away from them, they trashed the entire laundry basket (there's more around the corner.)
The only reason Rhett is running is because I screeched like a hoot owl when I saw it. The baby is proud of herself, I think. She laughed her ass off when I screeched. Rhett ran towards me, laughing and screaming to mock me.
Nope, no guilt or gratitude here...I need to learn from them. I'm off to spend some more money online and call my brother to have him stock up on liquor so we can have a weekend filled with total debauchery, sans guilt!
I feel so lucky to have the husband that I have. He's letting me go this weekend to stay with my brother, Bo, in Kingsville, where he's the head coach at Texas A&M Kingsville. We couldn't really afford for all 5 of us to go this football season, but I was dying to see where Bo and April live, so Aaron said I could have his airline miles to buy a ticket and go by myself. My brother, Josh, is going too, without his wife and kids. I'm not sure why they couldn't go, but it just worked out that way.
The flip side of this is that I feel horribly guilty that he's staying home for 3 nights and 4 days by himself. I feel bad that we're leaving Josh's wife home alone with their kids while we have fun. Aaron has mentioned several times how the girls' arguing and whining. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to help with this. They will whine and argue and he will be impatient and frustrated. And he will want me here. And I feel guilty about having fun while he's at home feeling pissy. But also grateful that they will miss me. But mostly guilty.
I am grateful for the great friends that I have. I have a friend, Jennifer, who was talking with me earlier about some 100 calorie peanut butter packs they have at Starbucks and she is bringing me one today just because. My friend Kealey sent her husband over with a Weight Watcher's ice cream bar one day just because I was craving chocolate but am on a diet that won't allow cupcakes or ice cream. I feel guilty because I never do nice things for my friends. I mean, I think I am a nice friend and I would do whatever they asked me to do, but I don't go out of my way to do things like that. That makes me feel guilty. Mostly grateful, but also guilty.
I am grateful that my husband doesn't gripe at me about money. But I feel guilty that I bought a new pair of heels that I will wear, at best, once a month, and he didn't even say anything. Imagine if you had to work all week long, only to come home to a wife who shops online with your money. I feel really bad about that.
Ok, wait...I have a new feeling. I can't describe it, so I took a picture. (Not of the feeling, of course, but when you look at the picture, you can imagine what I'm feeling) It's of a pair of people who never feel guilt OR gratitude, from what I can tell.
First of all, those were clean, folded clothes. The baby on the left is the baby I keep every day. She and Rhett have become quite a pair since she became mobile. Neither of them are one bit grateful that I'm standing in the kitchen, as I type, making grilled cheese sandwiches and cut-up fruit for lunch. Nor are they grateful that I spent the last two days folding clothes to fill up that laundry basket.
It doesn't appear that they feel one bit guilty about the fact that, while standing a mere 10 feet away from them, they trashed the entire laundry basket (there's more around the corner.)
The only reason Rhett is running is because I screeched like a hoot owl when I saw it. The baby is proud of herself, I think. She laughed her ass off when I screeched. Rhett ran towards me, laughing and screaming to mock me.
Nope, no guilt or gratitude here...I need to learn from them. I'm off to spend some more money online and call my brother to have him stock up on liquor so we can have a weekend filled with total debauchery, sans guilt!
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
I have a few questions after watching the Presidential Debate
1. Do you think Joe Plumber and Joe Six Pack know each other? Or maybe they're the same person. Maybe Joe Plumber becomes Joe Six Pack after work. If it's the same dude, he has a tremendous amount of power in this election. He's the only dude anyone has talked to. And he has a LOT of problems.
2. Why do they have three debates if they just say the same thing during each one? Can't they just have reruns?
3. What in the hell is a pork barrel project? "Cut out the pork barrels!" "Obama loves pork!" "Stop all pork!" I keep putting pork rinds on my grocery list and I don't know why.
4. Why can't either of these yay-hoos ever answer a stinking question? McCain repeats the same exact statements over and over. And you just know that when Obama starts a statement with "Well, now look..." that there is going to be a load of crap coming. I like the VP debate because they were actually saying something. I would rather see them mud-wrestling than repeating the stupid rhetoric. "I'm a Maverick." or "We need change." Enough already. Tell me something I don't know.
5. Why do these two candidates insist they are both UNpopular with their own parties? Who wants an unpopular president? If you want an unpopular president, let's see if Bush can hang around a bit longer. Or maybe that dude from "Revenge of the Nerds" is available.
6. How will we ever know who actually wins a debate? I just heard that "Obama's campaign is extremely confident that he won the debate." Two seconds later, another guy on the same network says "McCain showed his fighting spirit and they are quite pleased that he clearly came out ahead on this one." It's like a 4-year-old soccer game where they don't keep score and everybody gets a trophy.
7. Why do I care? Seriously, neither of them are going to do a damn thing to change anything, so I should just quit working my brain so hard over it. Lord knows I only have a few cells left to work with.
2. Why do they have three debates if they just say the same thing during each one? Can't they just have reruns?
3. What in the hell is a pork barrel project? "Cut out the pork barrels!" "Obama loves pork!" "Stop all pork!" I keep putting pork rinds on my grocery list and I don't know why.
4. Why can't either of these yay-hoos ever answer a stinking question? McCain repeats the same exact statements over and over. And you just know that when Obama starts a statement with "Well, now look..." that there is going to be a load of crap coming. I like the VP debate because they were actually saying something. I would rather see them mud-wrestling than repeating the stupid rhetoric. "I'm a Maverick." or "We need change." Enough already. Tell me something I don't know.
5. Why do these two candidates insist they are both UNpopular with their own parties? Who wants an unpopular president? If you want an unpopular president, let's see if Bush can hang around a bit longer. Or maybe that dude from "Revenge of the Nerds" is available.
6. How will we ever know who actually wins a debate? I just heard that "Obama's campaign is extremely confident that he won the debate." Two seconds later, another guy on the same network says "McCain showed his fighting spirit and they are quite pleased that he clearly came out ahead on this one." It's like a 4-year-old soccer game where they don't keep score and everybody gets a trophy.
7. Why do I care? Seriously, neither of them are going to do a damn thing to change anything, so I should just quit working my brain so hard over it. Lord knows I only have a few cells left to work with.
Is This My Life?
This morning, I got up at 5:45. Jogging? No. With kids? No. I had to go pick up coffee I had gotten donated from Dunkin Donuts. For my family? No. For a hungover group of partiers who had crashed at my house? No.
This was for the PTA "Dailies with Dad" event at the book fair at Avery's school. That's right. I said PTA.
Here's the deal...I don't want to be involved, per se, with the PTA. It's kinda clique-ish and those ladies always seem to be in the middle of a huge controversy or crisis. I've seen it from the teacher side of things and it just doesn't appeal to me. Don't get me wrong. Our school's PTA is phenomenal. They treat their teachers like queens and king(s). It's wonderful. I just don't really want to be a visual member. But I don't want to be totally uninvolved and not-helpful, so I volunteer for behind-the-scenes stuff.
So, since I have little ones at home and can't be up at the school actually working at the book fair, I volunteered to solicit donations for coffee and to bring fruit for this book fair thing, where dads come up to "shop" with their kids in the morning before school.
I get to Dunkin Donuts at 6:10, which was the agreed upon time. Of course, no one there knows what is going on, so I had to wait for all this coffee to be made. So I didn't get to school until 6:30, which is the start time for this "Dad" thing. They were still setting up and it didn't seem like a big deal, but of course, a few minutes after getting there, I hear rumblings of some sort of trouble.
Apparently, my coffee was small potatoes in comparison to the 12 cartons of Starbucks that another mom had acquired. According to the book fair chairwoman, this mom said that Starbucks had donated all these gift cards so she could pay for the coffee and that they would have them ready this morning. Cool, right? Yeah, except that, when I got there, there was a bit of gossip (imagine that...PTA moms gossiping!) that she wasn't going to come through with the coffee and it was a panic. No coffee? At a morning function? Dear Lord, say it isn't so!
So I say "Do y'all need me to run and get some more coffee?"
Why do I speak? The book fair chair gets on the phone with Starbucks. They don't know anything about it. They never gave anyone any "free" gift cards for the PTA or anything else, but they will hurry and get 6 cartons ready ASAP. I rush up to Starbucks, ASAP, and they are all eye-rolly and like, "What a nightmare." I guess it takes one whole urn to fill a traveler box. And each urn takes 5 minutes to make. So I'm like "So, how many do you have made?"
None. "Oh really, none? Um, so how long do you think until it's ready?" Oh, like 15-20 minutes. Maybe.
Uh, so did I mention that my husband is waiting at home with the kids so he can take Avery to the Dad thing and then go to work? Yeah...I said I'd be home around 6:30 and now I'm at Starbucks and it's 6:45. And the Starbucks people are all pissy because they didn't know about it and they are all talking to each other about it like I can't hear. And I finally said "I didn't know either. I was just dropping off Dunkin Donuts (take that, Starbucks!) and fruit. I just volunteered to come get it." One girl says "Well, if we had known, we'd have it ready." I say "Yeah, well, apparently, this girl is full of it. She said she was getting it, when, all along, she knew she wasn't. And it's, like, a really big deal and everyone is freaking out and in an uproar about it."
She says "What group is this for?" And I say "Sparks PTA." And I think I saw a flash of pity in her eyes. Or maybe condescension. I'm not sure, but it wasn't good. Like "Oh sheesh, another one of these ridiculous PTA ladies, freaking out over a couple of pots of coffee. What, are you going to be late for your tennis lesson if I don't rush?"
And it was just at that moment that I just deflated. How did I get here? How did I end up at a Starbucks at 6:30 in the morning, freaking out because there is not enough coffee at the book fair? How?
Oh yeah. Avery. School. Being an involved mother.
Dadgum kids. They are really putting a cramp in my coolness. Might as well get a van and some Mom jeans and forget it.
This was for the PTA "Dailies with Dad" event at the book fair at Avery's school. That's right. I said PTA.
Here's the deal...I don't want to be involved, per se, with the PTA. It's kinda clique-ish and those ladies always seem to be in the middle of a huge controversy or crisis. I've seen it from the teacher side of things and it just doesn't appeal to me. Don't get me wrong. Our school's PTA is phenomenal. They treat their teachers like queens and king(s). It's wonderful. I just don't really want to be a visual member. But I don't want to be totally uninvolved and not-helpful, so I volunteer for behind-the-scenes stuff.
So, since I have little ones at home and can't be up at the school actually working at the book fair, I volunteered to solicit donations for coffee and to bring fruit for this book fair thing, where dads come up to "shop" with their kids in the morning before school.
I get to Dunkin Donuts at 6:10, which was the agreed upon time. Of course, no one there knows what is going on, so I had to wait for all this coffee to be made. So I didn't get to school until 6:30, which is the start time for this "Dad" thing. They were still setting up and it didn't seem like a big deal, but of course, a few minutes after getting there, I hear rumblings of some sort of trouble.
Apparently, my coffee was small potatoes in comparison to the 12 cartons of Starbucks that another mom had acquired. According to the book fair chairwoman, this mom said that Starbucks had donated all these gift cards so she could pay for the coffee and that they would have them ready this morning. Cool, right? Yeah, except that, when I got there, there was a bit of gossip (imagine that...PTA moms gossiping!) that she wasn't going to come through with the coffee and it was a panic. No coffee? At a morning function? Dear Lord, say it isn't so!
So I say "Do y'all need me to run and get some more coffee?"
Why do I speak? The book fair chair gets on the phone with Starbucks. They don't know anything about it. They never gave anyone any "free" gift cards for the PTA or anything else, but they will hurry and get 6 cartons ready ASAP. I rush up to Starbucks, ASAP, and they are all eye-rolly and like, "What a nightmare." I guess it takes one whole urn to fill a traveler box. And each urn takes 5 minutes to make. So I'm like "So, how many do you have made?"
None. "Oh really, none? Um, so how long do you think until it's ready?" Oh, like 15-20 minutes. Maybe.
Uh, so did I mention that my husband is waiting at home with the kids so he can take Avery to the Dad thing and then go to work? Yeah...I said I'd be home around 6:30 and now I'm at Starbucks and it's 6:45. And the Starbucks people are all pissy because they didn't know about it and they are all talking to each other about it like I can't hear. And I finally said "I didn't know either. I was just dropping off Dunkin Donuts (take that, Starbucks!) and fruit. I just volunteered to come get it." One girl says "Well, if we had known, we'd have it ready." I say "Yeah, well, apparently, this girl is full of it. She said she was getting it, when, all along, she knew she wasn't. And it's, like, a really big deal and everyone is freaking out and in an uproar about it."
She says "What group is this for?" And I say "Sparks PTA." And I think I saw a flash of pity in her eyes. Or maybe condescension. I'm not sure, but it wasn't good. Like "Oh sheesh, another one of these ridiculous PTA ladies, freaking out over a couple of pots of coffee. What, are you going to be late for your tennis lesson if I don't rush?"
And it was just at that moment that I just deflated. How did I get here? How did I end up at a Starbucks at 6:30 in the morning, freaking out because there is not enough coffee at the book fair? How?
Oh yeah. Avery. School. Being an involved mother.
Dadgum kids. They are really putting a cramp in my coolness. Might as well get a van and some Mom jeans and forget it.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Saving Money
So, I was watching an Oprah show titled "The Thriftiest Family in America." On this show, they had lots of financial advice as well as tips for saving money. One pair of friends each wanted new living room furniture, but couldn't afford to spend the money. So, they decided to trade furniture. Great idea, I thought. I've been wanting to get new couches. Perfect timing.
Now, which one of my friends would like to trade with me? I have several friends with nice furniture. Maybe a nice leather living room set. Ah yes, that would be great. Here's my offer: One couch and loveseat set, purchased 4 years ago for the discount price of $1100. It is comfortable (broken down in the middle), distressed (pen marks on the back and pee stains on the cushions), and durable (faded, old fashioned denim).
So, any suckers, I mean, takers?
Now, which one of my friends would like to trade with me? I have several friends with nice furniture. Maybe a nice leather living room set. Ah yes, that would be great. Here's my offer: One couch and loveseat set, purchased 4 years ago for the discount price of $1100. It is comfortable (broken down in the middle), distressed (pen marks on the back and pee stains on the cushions), and durable (faded, old fashioned denim).
So, any suckers, I mean, takers?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Frustrating Conversations
How can something so adorable be so stinking frustrating? Here's a conversation from this morning. This is extremely typical and makes me feel like I am losing my mind.
Reese: Mom, can I put on my tattoo? (Tattoo from this morning's dentist appointment)
Me: Sure, come over here.
I put on the tattoo. Fast forward four and a half minutes....
Reese: Mom, can you take this off? (the tattoo)
Me: Honey, tattoos don't come off. It has to wear off.
Reese: I want it off!
Me: It won't come off.
Me: It won't come off.
Reese: Yes it will. Wipe it.
Me: It won't work. It doesn't come off with just water.
Reese: Yes it will.
Me: No it won't.
Reese: Yes it will.
Me: No it won't. Here, let me show you. I grab a wet washcloth and wipe it. Nothing happens.
Reese: It didn't come off. See Mom? I told you. Tattoos don't come off.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Very Interesting Article
I had heard a lot of this information, but have never seen it. This article may be kind of boring, but it puts the whole Wall Street bailout and Fannie/Freddie mess in perspective. (Look at the date. It's actually from 1999. BEFORE all the mess happened)
It's easier to understand than trying to decipher what politicians are saying!
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0DE7DB153EF933A0575AC0A96F958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=1
It's easier to understand than trying to decipher what politicians are saying!
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0DE7DB153EF933A0575AC0A96F958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=1
How a Tuna Eats a Banana
I've never seen anything quite like Big Tuna eating his morning banana. I'm not sure how to get him to understand that, no matter how long it takes him, this is his banana and he will get to eat the entire thing. He doesn't have to eat it all in one bite. But he does. Check him out... 
And we're off!
This is called "Packing the banana." You must do this gently so you don't get choked. The gag reflex can really get in the way of cramming an entire banana in your mouth.
"Must you photograph me while I'm eating? I'm not an animal!"
If this isn't the face of an animal, I don't know what is. Can you say "chimpanzee?"
"Heh heh...I looked like a monkey in that last picture. I crack myself up!"
Yes, people, I am aware that I could cut the banana into smaller, bite-sized pieces. But this is much more fun. It doesn't seem to bother him either.
See you later!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sick and Twisted
Before I show you the following picture, I need to make a confession. Actually, it's not so much MY confession as it is my husband and I parenting as a unit. Well, really just him. I'm totally absolving myself of all responsibility in this situation. Ok, here it is: Avery has seen The Dark Knight.
Yes, that's right. On opening day, my husband took off work and took her to a matinee. To be fair to him, she has seen all of the other Batman movies with him. I don't watch Batman or Superman or any of that junk, so I just have to trust him when he says it's no big deal for her to see. But his face when he brought her home from The Dark Knight told a different story. And, in the weeks to come, as all the critics and other moviegoers shared their opinions on the movie, I realized that we had made a huge mistake in letting her see that movie. Clearly, it is way too violent and twisted for a five year old girl to be watching. Even though she went with her dad. Even though we have explained the difference between reality and movies. Even though she really didn't understand many of the more creepy undertones of the movie. We acknowledge that we've made a mistake and have begged her to forget that she ever saw it and not tell anyone about it. I'm sure she tells everyone anyway, but whatever. You can't un-ring a bell.
Ok, so on to the picture. All Avery has talked about since seeing the movie (no, she hasn't forgotten about seeing it) is being Joker for Halloween. I have been so torn over this, mainly because I think she would make an awesome Joker. She has perfect hair for it and I think we could make it cool. But then, the responsible mother-as-good-community-citizen in me says "No way. That movie and that Joker are way too sinister for a little girl to emulate or represent in any way."
My husband wanted her to be the Joker. She begged me to be the Joker. But, in the end, Mom rained on their parade. I said no. It's inappropriate and there are tons of other things you can choose. She took it surprisingly well. So well, that, as a reward for not whining, crying and begging me to change my mind, I decided to let her be the Joker. At home. Where no one else can see her.
Except that I think she looks so cool, I decided I need to share it with the world.
Seriously y'all....all she needs is green hairspray and she's Mini Joker. Scary, huh?
Yes, that's right. On opening day, my husband took off work and took her to a matinee. To be fair to him, she has seen all of the other Batman movies with him. I don't watch Batman or Superman or any of that junk, so I just have to trust him when he says it's no big deal for her to see. But his face when he brought her home from The Dark Knight told a different story. And, in the weeks to come, as all the critics and other moviegoers shared their opinions on the movie, I realized that we had made a huge mistake in letting her see that movie. Clearly, it is way too violent and twisted for a five year old girl to be watching. Even though she went with her dad. Even though we have explained the difference between reality and movies. Even though she really didn't understand many of the more creepy undertones of the movie. We acknowledge that we've made a mistake and have begged her to forget that she ever saw it and not tell anyone about it. I'm sure she tells everyone anyway, but whatever. You can't un-ring a bell.
Ok, so on to the picture. All Avery has talked about since seeing the movie (no, she hasn't forgotten about seeing it) is being Joker for Halloween. I have been so torn over this, mainly because I think she would make an awesome Joker. She has perfect hair for it and I think we could make it cool. But then, the responsible mother-as-good-community-citizen in me says "No way. That movie and that Joker are way too sinister for a little girl to emulate or represent in any way."
My husband wanted her to be the Joker. She begged me to be the Joker. But, in the end, Mom rained on their parade. I said no. It's inappropriate and there are tons of other things you can choose. She took it surprisingly well. So well, that, as a reward for not whining, crying and begging me to change my mind, I decided to let her be the Joker. At home. Where no one else can see her.
Except that I think she looks so cool, I decided I need to share it with the world.
Seriously y'all....all she needs is green hairspray and she's Mini Joker. Scary, huh?
Monday, October 6, 2008
Yep, It's Monday
What is it about Mondays? I always think of that pleasant, yet annoying co-worker lady in the movie Office Space. "Looks like somebody has a case of the Mondays." I think I have a case of the Mondays today. Here's why:
1. I stayed up late watching some crazy show about Obama and his crazy radical terrorist friends, so I didn't get to sleep until after midnight...
2. ...which makes me tired. I HATE being tired. It makes me grumpy. And hungry. Two very bad things when you are stuck at home with three kids on a rainy day.
3. It is raining. Which, normally would be fine, but it didn't start raining until after I was jogging at 5:30 this morning. So I didn't get to sleep in. And I needed to sleep in, if only until 6:45. (You know you're old when getting up at 7 is considered "sleeping in.")
4 It is raining. Did I already mention that? Oh, well, it matters double today because today, of all days, I had to bring my donation of diet Coke and Coke 12 packs to the school for the Teacher Preview at the Book Fair today. The car line on rainy days is atrocious. It took me 15 minutes to get 2 blocks this morning. And then once I did park, I had to carry Rhett, Avery's backpack (so she could carry some Coke) and a 12 pack through the mile of cars, in the rain, into the school. Where I had to drop everything to sign in before walking 2 feet away from the sign in lady to drop the Cokes.
5. Ran into a notoriously hateful woman from our neighborhood. She corners me for 5 minutes, bitching about the car line. "It took me 10 minutes to get here from my house this morning. I didn't even wait. I parked on the side of the street and walked them in. If they think I'm sitting in that effing car line all effing morning, they are effing crazy. Damn school."
(She thinks everything is the school's fault. I know the principal has some power, but I don't think even she can make it rain in order to cause a traffic jam at the school.
6. Reese threw a big old hissy fit when I told her we had to leave the school. She wanted to stay with Avery. So there I am, right in front of my ex-boss, the principal, unable to control my own child because I've got 30 pounds of Rhett in my arms. And if I let him go, Lord help us. As I passed, I heard her say to the library aide "They're both hers. She had another one!" (She wasn't being ugly, but I still felt like a douche.)
7. Rhett's eyes are caked with gunk. Ditto for his nose. I don't know if it's sickness or allergies, but I'm keeping him home today. Which means we miss playgroup at K's house. And we were going to make spiderwebs and decorate cupcakes. Instead we'll make mucous and decorate the house with boogers.
8. I left a Diet Pepsi on the table. A fresh one. Rhett just dumped it all over himself, the couch and the carpet. Which I shampooed on Thursday and partially again on Saturday when he threw up the Halloween Runts his sisters gave him.
9. So now I have, not only my regular piles of weekend laundry to do, but I also have to wash the couch cushions. Which means I can't lie around on the couch and watch reruns of Clean House.
10. I can only have 1000 calories today so I can't cheer myself up with junk food.
There. Aren't you so glad that you checked in with me today and I could ruin your morning by boring you with the mundane, ridiculous inconveniences of my day?
1. I stayed up late watching some crazy show about Obama and his crazy radical terrorist friends, so I didn't get to sleep until after midnight...
2. ...which makes me tired. I HATE being tired. It makes me grumpy. And hungry. Two very bad things when you are stuck at home with three kids on a rainy day.
3. It is raining. Which, normally would be fine, but it didn't start raining until after I was jogging at 5:30 this morning. So I didn't get to sleep in. And I needed to sleep in, if only until 6:45. (You know you're old when getting up at 7 is considered "sleeping in.")
4 It is raining. Did I already mention that? Oh, well, it matters double today because today, of all days, I had to bring my donation of diet Coke and Coke 12 packs to the school for the Teacher Preview at the Book Fair today. The car line on rainy days is atrocious. It took me 15 minutes to get 2 blocks this morning. And then once I did park, I had to carry Rhett, Avery's backpack (so she could carry some Coke) and a 12 pack through the mile of cars, in the rain, into the school. Where I had to drop everything to sign in before walking 2 feet away from the sign in lady to drop the Cokes.
5. Ran into a notoriously hateful woman from our neighborhood. She corners me for 5 minutes, bitching about the car line. "It took me 10 minutes to get here from my house this morning. I didn't even wait. I parked on the side of the street and walked them in. If they think I'm sitting in that effing car line all effing morning, they are effing crazy. Damn school."
(She thinks everything is the school's fault. I know the principal has some power, but I don't think even she can make it rain in order to cause a traffic jam at the school.
6. Reese threw a big old hissy fit when I told her we had to leave the school. She wanted to stay with Avery. So there I am, right in front of my ex-boss, the principal, unable to control my own child because I've got 30 pounds of Rhett in my arms. And if I let him go, Lord help us. As I passed, I heard her say to the library aide "They're both hers. She had another one!" (She wasn't being ugly, but I still felt like a douche.)
7. Rhett's eyes are caked with gunk. Ditto for his nose. I don't know if it's sickness or allergies, but I'm keeping him home today. Which means we miss playgroup at K's house. And we were going to make spiderwebs and decorate cupcakes. Instead we'll make mucous and decorate the house with boogers.
8. I left a Diet Pepsi on the table. A fresh one. Rhett just dumped it all over himself, the couch and the carpet. Which I shampooed on Thursday and partially again on Saturday when he threw up the Halloween Runts his sisters gave him.
9. So now I have, not only my regular piles of weekend laundry to do, but I also have to wash the couch cushions. Which means I can't lie around on the couch and watch reruns of Clean House.
10. I can only have 1000 calories today so I can't cheer myself up with junk food.
There. Aren't you so glad that you checked in with me today and I could ruin your morning by boring you with the mundane, ridiculous inconveniences of my day?
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The number one reason I would never run for any kind of office....
Video cameras. And alcohol. Wait, that's two reasons. Combine them. Drunk videotaping is the number one reason I will never run, or allow my husband to run, for office.
Check out this video of Joe Biden, supposedly drunk.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmRXH7RkCZQ
I think it's ridiculous that someone went through the time and effort to try to find this "damning" piece of evidence. As if being drunk and singing a stupid song disqualifies you from being VP. I mean, jeez...he's fully clothed, he's not doing any type of drug, and he isn't cheating on his wife. He's practically Jesus by political standards. Give the guy a break.
(P.S. I'm still voting for McCain)
Check out this video of Joe Biden, supposedly drunk.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmRXH7RkCZQ
I think it's ridiculous that someone went through the time and effort to try to find this "damning" piece of evidence. As if being drunk and singing a stupid song disqualifies you from being VP. I mean, jeez...he's fully clothed, he's not doing any type of drug, and he isn't cheating on his wife. He's practically Jesus by political standards. Give the guy a break.
(P.S. I'm still voting for McCain)
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Just a thought as I watch the VP debates....
Can we put Biden and Palin on the same ticket? I like 'em both.
Why didn't anyone want Biden to be the democratic candidate? He ran and barely got any votes...what's up with that? He's heads above Obama on just about every issue. Plus, he's not a radical liberal snotty pants. I do like McCain, but he's really not too interesting to listen to. And he's old. So how about it? Biden/Palin 08?
Why didn't anyone want Biden to be the democratic candidate? He ran and barely got any votes...what's up with that? He's heads above Obama on just about every issue. Plus, he's not a radical liberal snotty pants. I do like McCain, but he's really not too interesting to listen to. And he's old. So how about it? Biden/Palin 08?
Reesie
I was cleaning pictures out of my hard drive this morning and I found this picture.
This picture was taken almost a year ago at a friend's princess-themed birthday party. It made my heart ache to think how quickly the past year has gone by. In this picture, Reese is barely two. She will be three in 24 days.
Look at the expression on her little face. She always had that look. It was a look of "I'm not at all sure what is going on and I'm equally unsure about how I feel about it."
She still has that look a lot of the time and she still loves being a princess, but she's much more silly and outgoing than she used to be. She's much more sure of what she likes-and Lord knows she is sure of what she doesn't like. She's just grown so much, physically and emotionally, in the past year.
It doesn't seem possible that she's almost three. I still remember the panic in the delivery room when the doctors thought there was something wrong with her. It feels like yesterday that my heart skipped a beat when I first saw that little pieface and the doctor said she was going to be fine.
It kills me to think how fast kids grow up. When I was younger, I would hear old people (yeah, I thought they were old) say how quickly time goes by and how kids were growing up too fast and I would always think they were nuts. It seemed, back then, that everything took forever. I never thought there would be a point in life where I wanted to stop time. And now, at the ripe old age of 36, it's all I can think about. It's going too fast. I want Reesie to stay this itty bitty, unsure princess forever. Ok, that's not realistic. How about 30 more years? If I can just have her be 3 for the next, oh, 20 or 30 years, then I'll be ready. Ok?
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Too Organized?
I think I have finally happened upon a reason that sometimes, being organized can be a bad thing. Maybe not bad, but surely not-so-good.
That reason is: Having a Spouse Who Does Not Believe in Organization.
Let me explain. My husband is not organized. God love him, I think he wants to be. I believe that he sees the virtue in organization. He tries. I've seen him work for hours in his garage, trying to organize, but all that usually happens is that the same stuff is now in neat stacks. It's not any more organized than it was before, it just looks neater. He still has no idea where the hammer or tennis balls are, but dangit, they look nice.
It drives me nuts that he never knows where anything is. I always know where things are. If you ask me where Reese's left Dora shoe is, I will tell you that it is underherbedbecauseshe droppeditduringhernapyesterday. I can find things. Unless HE has touched them. If he has touched something of mine, it's a crap shoot as to whether or not I will ever see it again. Normally, I am ashamed to admit, I speak to him in a rather condescending way on this subject. It's not becoming of me, I realize, but I think I'm right, so I justify it.
Well now, I'm here to apologize for being so rigid in my beliefs and for making him feel bad when he loses my stuff.
This morning, when I couldn't find my keys, I panicked. I woke the kids up later than usual because they were up half the night acting like nut jobs, so I let them sleep in. I decided I would drive rather than walk today. I just assumed that I would grab my keys and walk out the door at 7:35, as usual.
What I forgot was that He had my keys last night after our walk to the tennis courts. He and Rhett came home without the girls and I, so I never saw where he put my keys. This morning, at 7:35 on the dot, I reached for my keys in their regular spot on the counter. Nope.
The only other spot they can be is in my purse. I try not to drop them in my purse because then I have to dig in my purse as I'm walking out the door, but sometimes it happens. Only this morning, they weren't there. I went back to my regular "key spot" on the counter. Still not there. And back to the purse. Nope.
After searching the entire kitchen, I gave up. If they aren't here, they aren't anywhere. Seriously, people. This is where I give up. I can't wrap my brain around something being in the wrong place. And I have three kids and a disorganized husband. So you can see why my brain doesn't work. These people I live with are screwing with me.
So therein lies the problem in being organized: If something isn't where it belongs, I have no idea where to begin looking. I'm at a complete loss. It's like I keep going back to the place where it belongs, just expecting that the object will magically appear there. But it must be here. This is where it goes.
If anyone is home when I am on one of these fruitless searches, I will tell them, 400 times: "(The object) isn't where it belongs. It goes right here. This is why everything has a place."
I bet they hate me.
I finally found the keys IN Aaron's bowl of junk on the counter. I had to put this bowl there because he unloads all of this things in 40 different places in the kitchen and bathroom if I don't. And then he has to spend 10 minutes gathering it all together the next morning. So the bowl is the Consolidation Point for Aaron. (See how condescending that is? God, I can be a witch.)
But I would never check the bowl for my things, because the bowl is for Aaron's things. I would never put my things in that bowl. So my keys would never be in there.
Except that they were. And it only took me 12 minutes to figure that out. Twelve minutes on an otherwise perfectly timed morning. We were almost late. Thankfully, I organize my time pretty well too, so I always leave 5-7 minutes to spare. (I hate how this is making me sound.)
So see? There is such a thing as being too organized. If you are so organized that you forget how to search for lost items, then you are too "together." You need to relax and lose some things to re-train yourself in the art of the search. I plan to test myself today looking for 3 lost socks that have been plaguing me for at least the past 6 cycles of laundry. I will begin by searching in the kids' toy boxes. I know they don't belong there, but that's all part of the testing. Thinking outside the box. Or, in this case, outside the laundry basket.
Hope your Monday is as titillating as mine!
That reason is: Having a Spouse Who Does Not Believe in Organization.
Let me explain. My husband is not organized. God love him, I think he wants to be. I believe that he sees the virtue in organization. He tries. I've seen him work for hours in his garage, trying to organize, but all that usually happens is that the same stuff is now in neat stacks. It's not any more organized than it was before, it just looks neater. He still has no idea where the hammer or tennis balls are, but dangit, they look nice.
It drives me nuts that he never knows where anything is. I always know where things are. If you ask me where Reese's left Dora shoe is, I will tell you that it is underherbedbecauseshe droppeditduringhernapyesterday. I can find things. Unless HE has touched them. If he has touched something of mine, it's a crap shoot as to whether or not I will ever see it again. Normally, I am ashamed to admit, I speak to him in a rather condescending way on this subject. It's not becoming of me, I realize, but I think I'm right, so I justify it.
Well now, I'm here to apologize for being so rigid in my beliefs and for making him feel bad when he loses my stuff.
This morning, when I couldn't find my keys, I panicked. I woke the kids up later than usual because they were up half the night acting like nut jobs, so I let them sleep in. I decided I would drive rather than walk today. I just assumed that I would grab my keys and walk out the door at 7:35, as usual.
What I forgot was that He had my keys last night after our walk to the tennis courts. He and Rhett came home without the girls and I, so I never saw where he put my keys. This morning, at 7:35 on the dot, I reached for my keys in their regular spot on the counter. Nope.
The only other spot they can be is in my purse. I try not to drop them in my purse because then I have to dig in my purse as I'm walking out the door, but sometimes it happens. Only this morning, they weren't there. I went back to my regular "key spot" on the counter. Still not there. And back to the purse. Nope.
After searching the entire kitchen, I gave up. If they aren't here, they aren't anywhere. Seriously, people. This is where I give up. I can't wrap my brain around something being in the wrong place. And I have three kids and a disorganized husband. So you can see why my brain doesn't work. These people I live with are screwing with me.
So therein lies the problem in being organized: If something isn't where it belongs, I have no idea where to begin looking. I'm at a complete loss. It's like I keep going back to the place where it belongs, just expecting that the object will magically appear there. But it must be here. This is where it goes.
If anyone is home when I am on one of these fruitless searches, I will tell them, 400 times: "(The object) isn't where it belongs. It goes right here. This is why everything has a place."
I bet they hate me.
I finally found the keys IN Aaron's bowl of junk on the counter. I had to put this bowl there because he unloads all of this things in 40 different places in the kitchen and bathroom if I don't. And then he has to spend 10 minutes gathering it all together the next morning. So the bowl is the Consolidation Point for Aaron. (See how condescending that is? God, I can be a witch.)
But I would never check the bowl for my things, because the bowl is for Aaron's things. I would never put my things in that bowl. So my keys would never be in there.
Except that they were. And it only took me 12 minutes to figure that out. Twelve minutes on an otherwise perfectly timed morning. We were almost late. Thankfully, I organize my time pretty well too, so I always leave 5-7 minutes to spare. (I hate how this is making me sound.)
So see? There is such a thing as being too organized. If you are so organized that you forget how to search for lost items, then you are too "together." You need to relax and lose some things to re-train yourself in the art of the search. I plan to test myself today looking for 3 lost socks that have been plaguing me for at least the past 6 cycles of laundry. I will begin by searching in the kids' toy boxes. I know they don't belong there, but that's all part of the testing. Thinking outside the box. Or, in this case, outside the laundry basket.
Hope your Monday is as titillating as mine!
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Comic Relief
I have been watching politics all morning. I know it is so boring, but after the debates last night, I wanted to see what everyone thought about it. For the record, most impartial journalists agree that nobody won. Nobody took advantage of the opportunity to really stick it to the other one. So it was pretty boring.
But I still wanted to see what was going on in the world of politics today. I have the TV on Fox News where they are continuously covering the big bailout deal that is going on. It is a pretty interesting and frightening situation going on, but still, it's getting kind of boring. Just as I was about to zone out and possibly fall asleep, I heard a line on a commercial that made me laugh out loud:
"Seek medical attention for an erection lasting more than four hours."
And then I got a mental picture of a dude walking in to the ER with an, um, excuse me, boner. Then, I couldn't help it; I started picturing all of those boring politicians and reporters on TV with boners that won't go away. All of them, in the ER, yelling for help. "Someone help me! I have a boner with a mind of its own!!"
You should try it. It makes politics much more interesting.
But I still wanted to see what was going on in the world of politics today. I have the TV on Fox News where they are continuously covering the big bailout deal that is going on. It is a pretty interesting and frightening situation going on, but still, it's getting kind of boring. Just as I was about to zone out and possibly fall asleep, I heard a line on a commercial that made me laugh out loud:
"Seek medical attention for an erection lasting more than four hours."
And then I got a mental picture of a dude walking in to the ER with an, um, excuse me, boner. Then, I couldn't help it; I started picturing all of those boring politicians and reporters on TV with boners that won't go away. All of them, in the ER, yelling for help. "Someone help me! I have a boner with a mind of its own!!"
You should try it. It makes politics much more interesting.
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