So um
The new Dr. Who....
Not Bad.
Season's One Dr. Who was sooo good that I was really worried I wouldn't like the Season Two Doctor (because honestly, you can never have too many things to worry about) ANYHOW....
Season Two Dr. Who, love him. As much as the Season One Dr. Who, but in a different way. They did a really good job picking the 'right' Dr. Who characters, but I hope this guy lasts longer than a season or two.
I just don't get the suits with tennis shoes.
I mean, who can REALLY get away with that.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
T-shirt or training bra?
Somebody help me!
My ten year old is um, well.
Hmmm.
There's been a slight change.
Not a big one. Not even really much of one in the um, size really, it's just more of an hum, hmm, um, ahh, a slight protrusion really, I suppose... some budding maybe
and I can't decide,
undershirts or training bra? Because sometimes undershirts don't seem to um, cover it all you see? Sooo
she's not even ten. Maybe just thicker undershirts?
Maybe a mix of both, depending on her outer shirt.
The kicker? I told her,
"well, um, I think you know, these (pointing to self) might be um, you know, starting to grow, because, um, they will, one day you know."
Okay, not the most savvy way to put it, but I've been putting all my energy into preparing for the 'BIG TALK' not the little ones and OMIGOSH I just found out they do HIV/AIDS awareness next year, so I need to have it THIS year.
Yeesh. My mom waited til I was 12. Course, I knew since I was 9 sooo....
Daughter: Yeah I know, they are already starting.
Me: and you noticed but never TOLD me? ARGH.
Someone.
Hep Me.
My ten year old is um, well.
Hmmm.
There's been a slight change.
Not a big one. Not even really much of one in the um, size really, it's just more of an hum, hmm, um, ahh, a slight protrusion really, I suppose... some budding maybe
and I can't decide,
undershirts or training bra? Because sometimes undershirts don't seem to um, cover it all you see? Sooo
she's not even ten. Maybe just thicker undershirts?
Maybe a mix of both, depending on her outer shirt.
The kicker? I told her,
"well, um, I think you know, these (pointing to self) might be um, you know, starting to grow, because, um, they will, one day you know."
Okay, not the most savvy way to put it, but I've been putting all my energy into preparing for the 'BIG TALK' not the little ones and OMIGOSH I just found out they do HIV/AIDS awareness next year, so I need to have it THIS year.
Yeesh. My mom waited til I was 12. Course, I knew since I was 9 sooo....
Daughter: Yeah I know, they are already starting.
Me: and you noticed but never TOLD me? ARGH.
Someone.
Hep Me.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Wicked Witch
The Wicked Witch is going going going...... sooon to be gooonnee... YAY
That's right folks,
The mean mom neighbor and her mean bully daughter with their nice but reserved and confusing lawn-mowing gnome husband and the normal son....
have...
put their house up for sale!
***Disclaimer***
We will actually miss the nice, reserved but confusing lawn-mowing gnome husband for obvious reasons but the meanness of the women in that family render his niceness almost obsolete. His son is cute, but not allowed to play with my boys... they have cooties, you see...
Now, I did not gape. I really tried not to. Okay, I may have walked up and down the lenght of my front yard auspiciously checking out the rose bushe and Japanese Maple growth, but that was all. My daughter might have gaped openly, but she's only ten. The point is, there was a sign out on their lawn that is clearly a real estate sign. I was good. I did not gleefully flit over there smiling and yelping, "So, You're moving? Really? GREAT."
No. I did not.
Instead, hubby and I speculated.
Top Ten Reasons Mean Mom Neighbor is packing up her Mean Bully Kid and husbando con el toddlero:
10. She doesn't want her daughter associating with my daughter, the bad influence.
9. She doesn't want her son to have to go to school with my sons, who are close in age, and no. 10.
8. The neighborhood's going to hell because there are too many renters and our HoA refuses to change the ten-percent rental rate (apparently, the downfall of the nation are the renters secretly residing in neighborhoods willfully lowering house values with their transient non-lawn-mowing, non-HoA-joining commie ways)
7. She thinks we are renters because we don't mow our lawns, and it's bad enough there are renters in the neighborhood, but to live next to one...
6. All the other mom's in the neighborhood told Mean Bully Girl they can't play with their children (I'm not the only one who banned the little brat, and the third one that expressed how rotten she was, but unlike the other moms, I blame the parentel figures)
5. She suddenly realized she's superior to all the rest of us middle-class, non-pretentious folk living in a merely decent neighborhood, doing their own lawns and house cleaning, and high-tailed it to a neighborhood where someone else will do her landscaping and cleaning, and she'll have 2,000 sq more feet to preside over, all reign her suburban majesty.
4. Our neighborhood park doesn't have swings, but does have brown, dying grass, mowed of course.
3. It's a facade, she's a renter and her landlord is selling the house. They are moving to a manufactured home in the country.
2. Her children have been discovered for the child prodigy's they are, and they are moving to Boston and enrolling their children in Harvard.
1. Her husband found another job somewhere else, far far away, in another school district ties with Mean Mom studied the housing market, and feared that if she was ever going to get her suburban paradise, she had to sell modest suburbia now.
Yes 1. is dull, but the most realistic.
And yes, this is a TOTALLY catty mean blog about our neighbor, but I am honestly glad she's going. There is just this atmosphere around her, that brings you down. She's gossipy and mean spirited and judgemental and has made it hard for my kid to go out and play cuz of her mean kid. How can I be sad to see her go?
***Disclaimer***
She's another person who deserves to be loved too, and I'm sure she's nice to some people, and if she was nicer to me, and more importantly fair to my kid, I'd probably be nicer about her. But seeing as she wasn't, and seeing as this is my blog, /mean on.
That's right folks,
The mean mom neighbor and her mean bully daughter with their nice but reserved and confusing lawn-mowing gnome husband and the normal son....
have...
put their house up for sale!
***Disclaimer***
We will actually miss the nice, reserved but confusing lawn-mowing gnome husband for obvious reasons but the meanness of the women in that family render his niceness almost obsolete. His son is cute, but not allowed to play with my boys... they have cooties, you see...
Now, I did not gape. I really tried not to. Okay, I may have walked up and down the lenght of my front yard auspiciously checking out the rose bushe and Japanese Maple growth, but that was all. My daughter might have gaped openly, but she's only ten. The point is, there was a sign out on their lawn that is clearly a real estate sign. I was good. I did not gleefully flit over there smiling and yelping, "So, You're moving? Really? GREAT."
No. I did not.
Instead, hubby and I speculated.
Top Ten Reasons Mean Mom Neighbor is packing up her Mean Bully Kid and husbando con el toddlero:
10. She doesn't want her daughter associating with my daughter, the bad influence.
9. She doesn't want her son to have to go to school with my sons, who are close in age, and no. 10.
8. The neighborhood's going to hell because there are too many renters and our HoA refuses to change the ten-percent rental rate (apparently, the downfall of the nation are the renters secretly residing in neighborhoods willfully lowering house values with their transient non-lawn-mowing, non-HoA-joining commie ways)
7. She thinks we are renters because we don't mow our lawns, and it's bad enough there are renters in the neighborhood, but to live next to one...
6. All the other mom's in the neighborhood told Mean Bully Girl they can't play with their children (I'm not the only one who banned the little brat, and the third one that expressed how rotten she was, but unlike the other moms, I blame the parentel figures)
5. She suddenly realized she's superior to all the rest of us middle-class, non-pretentious folk living in a merely decent neighborhood, doing their own lawns and house cleaning, and high-tailed it to a neighborhood where someone else will do her landscaping and cleaning, and she'll have 2,000 sq more feet to preside over, all reign her suburban majesty.
4. Our neighborhood park doesn't have swings, but does have brown, dying grass, mowed of course.
3. It's a facade, she's a renter and her landlord is selling the house. They are moving to a manufactured home in the country.
2. Her children have been discovered for the child prodigy's they are, and they are moving to Boston and enrolling their children in Harvard.
1. Her husband found another job somewhere else, far far away, in another school district ties with Mean Mom studied the housing market, and feared that if she was ever going to get her suburban paradise, she had to sell modest suburbia now.
Yes 1. is dull, but the most realistic.
And yes, this is a TOTALLY catty mean blog about our neighbor, but I am honestly glad she's going. There is just this atmosphere around her, that brings you down. She's gossipy and mean spirited and judgemental and has made it hard for my kid to go out and play cuz of her mean kid. How can I be sad to see her go?
***Disclaimer***
She's another person who deserves to be loved too, and I'm sure she's nice to some people, and if she was nicer to me, and more importantly fair to my kid, I'd probably be nicer about her. But seeing as she wasn't, and seeing as this is my blog, /mean on.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Topical, or No Topical?
I had two dentist appointments, Sat. and today. Saturday, she replaced a filling that had a cavity underneath it. Ummm, how did that happen? I mean okay it was a REALLY old filling but yeesh. Anyhow, of course they numbed my mouth. The problem is, for some reason, I require more anesthesia than most people. They thought they numbed me and asked how numb I felt and I said,
"Numb? I don't feel numb."
Blank stares.
"You don't feel numb?"
"No."
"Here?" they pat my chin.
"No."
"Here?" they flip my lip.
"Nope."
"Hmm. We'll have to write this in your chart."
And then they give me TONS of anesthesia, so much in fact, that they not only numbed the tooth area, and the gums, but also my tongue.
Slo I talth lithe thisth the reth of the thay anth I coulthn't eath at ahl unthil lithe mithnighth.
ANYHOW I had another appointment today.
"That is REALLY a small cavity."
"Oh good."
"Do you want to try it without the topical?"
"Um," and I thought about it.
Because what she was really asking me was, "Is a little bit of discomfort marked with one quick real painful, but fleeting, moment better than a numbed mouth and an inability to eat or speak for the next 24 hours?"
So I went sans topical.
Drill drill..
"Are you okay?"
"Uh huh"
drill drill drill
"Still okay?"
"ugh huh uh huh"
Drill drill
YOWZA OLY CRAP SHIT MAN OUCH THAT FUCKING HURT WHAT THE HELL WOMAN DID YOU HAVE TO GO STRAIGHT FOR THE NERVE
"You okay?"
"Uh huh."
Drill drill
"Okay?"
"uh huh."
"Okay we're done, was that bad?"
"Nope, fine."
Reward for that moment of pain?
The ability to speak normally, drink coffee and eat sometime before tomorrow.
"Numb? I don't feel numb."
Blank stares.
"You don't feel numb?"
"No."
"Here?" they pat my chin.
"No."
"Here?" they flip my lip.
"Nope."
"Hmm. We'll have to write this in your chart."
And then they give me TONS of anesthesia, so much in fact, that they not only numbed the tooth area, and the gums, but also my tongue.
Slo I talth lithe thisth the reth of the thay anth I coulthn't eath at ahl unthil lithe mithnighth.
ANYHOW I had another appointment today.
"That is REALLY a small cavity."
"Oh good."
"Do you want to try it without the topical?"
"Um," and I thought about it.
Because what she was really asking me was, "Is a little bit of discomfort marked with one quick real painful, but fleeting, moment better than a numbed mouth and an inability to eat or speak for the next 24 hours?"
So I went sans topical.
Drill drill..
"Are you okay?"
"Uh huh"
drill drill drill
"Still okay?"
"ugh huh uh huh"
Drill drill
YOWZA OLY CRAP SHIT MAN OUCH THAT FUCKING HURT WHAT THE HELL WOMAN DID YOU HAVE TO GO STRAIGHT FOR THE NERVE
"You okay?"
"Uh huh."
Drill drill
"Okay?"
"uh huh."
"Okay we're done, was that bad?"
"Nope, fine."
Reward for that moment of pain?
The ability to speak normally, drink coffee and eat sometime before tomorrow.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
The Whatever People
Well,
Nice neighbor girl finally invited Drama Girl over. Turns out, I was right. Mean girl next door who's too young for Drama isn't allowed to play with her. It seems, however, her power extends over to nice neighbor girl, for when she's over nice neighbor girl's house, nice neighbor can't call Drama.
Whatever.
I told Drama that she can play with nice neighbor girl, and go over her house and invite her over and all that, but as soon as stuff starts up about 'you can't play with me cuz mean girl is coming over' or 'i can't come over cuz mean girl wants to play' then she's got to just say whatever.
We're encouraging her to hang out with kids in her class who are her own age. It's not her fault all the kids on this street are too young for her. The other friend is a year older and always at another girl's house so they are all paired up. I told her to get phone numbers from the kids in her class in our neighborhood. She walks home with a few of them.
I've just had enough of this crap, which is part of the reason she's got the extra curricular activities. It's just the weekends that bore her I think, so I'll have to kick her out and encourage her to call her schoolmates more often.
Nice neighbor girl finally invited Drama Girl over. Turns out, I was right. Mean girl next door who's too young for Drama isn't allowed to play with her. It seems, however, her power extends over to nice neighbor girl, for when she's over nice neighbor girl's house, nice neighbor can't call Drama.
Whatever.
I told Drama that she can play with nice neighbor girl, and go over her house and invite her over and all that, but as soon as stuff starts up about 'you can't play with me cuz mean girl is coming over' or 'i can't come over cuz mean girl wants to play' then she's got to just say whatever.
We're encouraging her to hang out with kids in her class who are her own age. It's not her fault all the kids on this street are too young for her. The other friend is a year older and always at another girl's house so they are all paired up. I told her to get phone numbers from the kids in her class in our neighborhood. She walks home with a few of them.
I've just had enough of this crap, which is part of the reason she's got the extra curricular activities. It's just the weekends that bore her I think, so I'll have to kick her out and encourage her to call her schoolmates more often.
Procrastination
There's a really good chance I'm doing this rather than my homework. A REALLY good chance.
Some things are not fun.
And must be delayed.
Like um, business school.
Some things are not fun.
And must be delayed.
Like um, business school.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Back to normal
Well,
I'm using this color font because it matches the red in my eyes after all this not-sleep I've been getting.
After my insomniac night, my sons, lovely darlings, woke up at 5 a.m. I put my foot down though, or rather, didn't. I stayed in bed, and refused to budge. I simply said to McRed "You went to bed at 9. I didn't get to bed til 2. I'm not getting up and making coffee yet. I'll be up later." His idea, great to him, was that since ONE of us had to get up, why not BOTH of us get up at what time again? FIVE A.M. and drink coffee together. Ha. I put off getting up til a whole whopping 6:30 a.m. ignoring whatever grumpy remarks he uttered after I buried my head under the comforter. THEN we had coffee together.
I got my sons down for an early nap after their art class, thankfully, and then took a snoozer myself. My hope is now that everyone is caught up in sleep, they will oh I don't know SLEEP tonight.
I'm going to make coffee now, (only my fourth cup!) and attempt to clean up the mess that has occurred while I've been sleep deprived.
I'm using this color font because it matches the red in my eyes after all this not-sleep I've been getting.
After my insomniac night, my sons, lovely darlings, woke up at 5 a.m. I put my foot down though, or rather, didn't. I stayed in bed, and refused to budge. I simply said to McRed "You went to bed at 9. I didn't get to bed til 2. I'm not getting up and making coffee yet. I'll be up later." His idea, great to him, was that since ONE of us had to get up, why not BOTH of us get up at what time again? FIVE A.M. and drink coffee together. Ha. I put off getting up til a whole whopping 6:30 a.m. ignoring whatever grumpy remarks he uttered after I buried my head under the comforter. THEN we had coffee together.
I got my sons down for an early nap after their art class, thankfully, and then took a snoozer myself. My hope is now that everyone is caught up in sleep, they will oh I don't know SLEEP tonight.
I'm going to make coffee now, (only my fourth cup!) and attempt to clean up the mess that has occurred while I've been sleep deprived.
Insomnia
Somebody help me.
It's 1 a.m. and I have to be up early to take Drama to the dentist. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in a week. I'm so tired my eyes hurt, but whenever I shut them, they pop open. Massive insomnia AND I have to deal with two cranky toddlers at a ten a.m. art class.
Somebody, help me survive tomorrow....
It's 1 a.m. and I have to be up early to take Drama to the dentist. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in a week. I'm so tired my eyes hurt, but whenever I shut them, they pop open. Massive insomnia AND I have to deal with two cranky toddlers at a ten a.m. art class.
Somebody, help me survive tomorrow....
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Thirteen Things I've Read
Thirteen things I've read that have stuck in my memory, from a book I read when I was ten to last month... in no particular order:
1. On the Beach, my first nuclear holocaust read
2. 1984, read it multiple times, it's still creepy
3. Mists of Avalon, a female legend revolving around King Arthur, read it several times, still own it
4. The Stand, still one of the spookiest novels ever, kept me up as a teenager til 3 a.m.
5. Through a Glass Darkly, one of the few romance novels I consider great, though hard to find now
6. Conrad's War, a pre-teen book during my 'love of all things army' phase
7. All the Children Were Sent Away, another pre-teen book during my 'love of all things war' phase
8. Wild Swans, Three Daughters of China, great book based on the lives of three generations of Chinese women during three different phases of the country, from the concubine grandmother to the communist mother to the democratic daughter living abroad, great book.
9. The Lovely Bones, there's just no way that book can't stay with you.
10. The Chronicles of Narnia, might as well be one book. I've tried (unsuccessfuly) to get every child I have influence over to read these books, from my little brother to my eldest daughter.
11. Don't Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch, a book I was forced to read in Fourth Grade, way beneath my reading level (college at that age) because the teacher was not comfortable with my more adult (Sydney Sheldon, I believe) reading choices. It's still one of my favorite sayings, but the book bored me terribly.
12. The Once and Future King, a great book I try to get everyone I know to read, because it's a classic King Arthur tale that's funny.
13. A Canticle for Leibowitz, another book I try to get everyone to read, with little success I might add.
1. On the Beach, my first nuclear holocaust read
2. 1984, read it multiple times, it's still creepy
3. Mists of Avalon, a female legend revolving around King Arthur, read it several times, still own it
4. The Stand, still one of the spookiest novels ever, kept me up as a teenager til 3 a.m.
5. Through a Glass Darkly, one of the few romance novels I consider great, though hard to find now
6. Conrad's War, a pre-teen book during my 'love of all things army' phase
7. All the Children Were Sent Away, another pre-teen book during my 'love of all things war' phase
8. Wild Swans, Three Daughters of China, great book based on the lives of three generations of Chinese women during three different phases of the country, from the concubine grandmother to the communist mother to the democratic daughter living abroad, great book.
9. The Lovely Bones, there's just no way that book can't stay with you.
10. The Chronicles of Narnia, might as well be one book. I've tried (unsuccessfuly) to get every child I have influence over to read these books, from my little brother to my eldest daughter.
11. Don't Count Your Chickens Before They Hatch, a book I was forced to read in Fourth Grade, way beneath my reading level (college at that age) because the teacher was not comfortable with my more adult (Sydney Sheldon, I believe) reading choices. It's still one of my favorite sayings, but the book bored me terribly.
12. The Once and Future King, a great book I try to get everyone I know to read, because it's a classic King Arthur tale that's funny.
13. A Canticle for Leibowitz, another book I try to get everyone to read, with little success I might add.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
...and the week never ends
For many reasons, this week needs to end.
However, for just as many reasons, next week needs to have ended as well.
However, for just as many reasons, next week needs to have ended as well.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Ashinda, bad ass shaman troll
That's right,
I've made a shaman troll so my husband and I can play and 'level' together in WoW. Of course, this will last for one week, until he decides to play without me one day and level way past me, or I play my gnome (who is level 20 and can make cool bombs and nifty guns) and he plays his shaman, again, leveling up without me.
Sooo...
any of you alliance races want me to smuggle you some phat horde lewt?
I've made a shaman troll so my husband and I can play and 'level' together in WoW. Of course, this will last for one week, until he decides to play without me one day and level way past me, or I play my gnome (who is level 20 and can make cool bombs and nifty guns) and he plays his shaman, again, leveling up without me.
Sooo...
any of you alliance races want me to smuggle you some phat horde lewt?
Saturday, September 16, 2006
dorks
Hey, dorks.
There's a freakin' park right down the road with lots of space to throw the damn ball (which you, apparently, are all incapable of catching) so take your loud annoying pre-teen/teen asses there, where you can all talk smack about the ball you aren't catching....
Update: 20 minutes later...
My ten year old daughter opened her window, greeted the dorks, and asked them to shut the hell up, albeit politely, and now they are missing the ball quieter, and further down the road....
All Fear Queen Drama
There's a freakin' park right down the road with lots of space to throw the damn ball (which you, apparently, are all incapable of catching) so take your loud annoying pre-teen/teen asses there, where you can all talk smack about the ball you aren't catching....
Update: 20 minutes later...
My ten year old daughter opened her window, greeted the dorks, and asked them to shut the hell up, albeit politely, and now they are missing the ball quieter, and further down the road....
All Fear Queen Drama
Black and Tans
Friday night, invited hubby's friend over.
Got smashed, buzzed, and had to drive so not much, on Black and Tan's (husband, me, and friend).
Did not wake up with hangover. That's saying something about the quality of Guiness.
This weekend blows.
Got smashed, buzzed, and had to drive so not much, on Black and Tan's (husband, me, and friend).
Did not wake up with hangover. That's saying something about the quality of Guiness.
This weekend blows.
Friday, September 15, 2006
cool tshirts
I finally managed to look 'trendy' or at least, trendy in my mind.
I got a planet mom t-shirt (I sooo took advantage of that earlier deal at suburban mom's site, I'm such a shopper) and some of those darker rinse jeans that are apparently 'in' at the moment, and, for these born boots that they sold last year that are not actually popular as far as I can tell, (most of my friends laughed) but I adore them.
I then took my sons to messy time.
Because that is as much 'out' as I get, and while it's perfectly acceptable to wear old jeans and a baggy sweatshirt to a class devoted to painting, play doh and glueing macaroni noodles on paper plates, just occasionally, I want to look 'trendy,' to just for once walk in and have everyone think, 'Hey, that there is some trendy mom' and never you mind that my sons' hair sticks up permanently and not in a trendy spike cut way, and that their shirts may or may not actually match their pants...
I got a planet mom t-shirt (I sooo took advantage of that earlier deal at suburban mom's site, I'm such a shopper) and some of those darker rinse jeans that are apparently 'in' at the moment, and, for these born boots that they sold last year that are not actually popular as far as I can tell, (most of my friends laughed) but I adore them.
I then took my sons to messy time.
Because that is as much 'out' as I get, and while it's perfectly acceptable to wear old jeans and a baggy sweatshirt to a class devoted to painting, play doh and glueing macaroni noodles on paper plates, just occasionally, I want to look 'trendy,' to just for once walk in and have everyone think, 'Hey, that there is some trendy mom' and never you mind that my sons' hair sticks up permanently and not in a trendy spike cut way, and that their shirts may or may not actually match their pants...
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Game On
Tonight is game night at our house.
Tonight, Phase 10...
I will destroy them...
Every Wednesday excepting the second Wed. of each month. It's something we do to insure our eldest doesn't feel like she's odd girl out. Sort of like Friday Night Family Night, only McRed hates the new shows, so it turns out to be Friday Night Pizza Night While Mom and Drama Lounge on Couch.
Tonight, Phase 10...
I will destroy them...
Every Wednesday excepting the second Wed. of each month. It's something we do to insure our eldest doesn't feel like she's odd girl out. Sort of like Friday Night Family Night, only McRed hates the new shows, so it turns out to be Friday Night Pizza Night While Mom and Drama Lounge on Couch.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Twins club
See, I don't have enough to do already.
I'm going to check out the local twins club, and see if twin moms are as nutty as I am.
They have playgroups, kick-ass sales and a meeting place right down the road.
I can balance mom's club playgroups with twins club playgroups against gymnastics and messy time ahh ha ha ha. I hardly ever make it to the mom's club playgroups anyhow, though I really do try...
But there's the kick ass sales. Oh, and they have moms nights out. More mom's nights out than the mom's club. The mom's club is restricted to one night out a month. The twins club doesn't seem to have that restriction (i'm hoping). Probably because twin moms, may, possibly, be a bit more desperate than other mom's for a night out... or maybe it's just me.
I'm also considering joining the PTA. The PTA frightens me, but I feel I should do it. Especially since they added that line about 'not having to volunteer...' It's not that I'd mind volunteering occasionally, it's just that I don't have child care lined up for volunteer occasions.
Saying that,
can we please welcome back...all the way from Mongolia....
THE BABYSITTER....
That's right folks. After spending most of August away in Mongolia with her aunt and uncle who are missionaries in the area, she's returned.
We're so excited to have her back!
...and I do apologize for rushing out the door, leaping at her from my front steps and embracing her in a giant bear hug, kissing her on the cheeks and dancing merrily round her while she was on her way to tutor the neighbor.... but I couldn't help myself.
Date Night is ON
WOOOT
Hey... maybe my husband and I can get lucky...
I'm going to check out the local twins club, and see if twin moms are as nutty as I am.
They have playgroups, kick-ass sales and a meeting place right down the road.
I can balance mom's club playgroups with twins club playgroups against gymnastics and messy time ahh ha ha ha. I hardly ever make it to the mom's club playgroups anyhow, though I really do try...
But there's the kick ass sales. Oh, and they have moms nights out. More mom's nights out than the mom's club. The mom's club is restricted to one night out a month. The twins club doesn't seem to have that restriction (i'm hoping). Probably because twin moms, may, possibly, be a bit more desperate than other mom's for a night out... or maybe it's just me.
I'm also considering joining the PTA. The PTA frightens me, but I feel I should do it. Especially since they added that line about 'not having to volunteer...' It's not that I'd mind volunteering occasionally, it's just that I don't have child care lined up for volunteer occasions.
Saying that,
can we please welcome back...all the way from Mongolia....
THE BABYSITTER....
That's right folks. After spending most of August away in Mongolia with her aunt and uncle who are missionaries in the area, she's returned.
We're so excited to have her back!
...and I do apologize for rushing out the door, leaping at her from my front steps and embracing her in a giant bear hug, kissing her on the cheeks and dancing merrily round her while she was on her way to tutor the neighbor.... but I couldn't help myself.
Date Night is ON
WOOOT
Hey... maybe my husband and I can get lucky...
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Forward this to ten friends....
So i've gotten some of these 'answer these questions and people will know more about you' e-mails, and I'm a sucker for them and fill them out, and my friends are nice, and fill them out and send them back to me, but I question their dedication, for I am not convinced they actually forward them...
So I made my own, but I'm not e-mailing it out, because while I will perpetuate a chain of 'answer these silly questions' e-mail, I won't start one. Disclaimer: I will never send you one of those chain letters like 'this really works, send to ten friends and God will send the lotto numbers to you in a dream, but if you don't, he'll send a flood to your basement....
1: Milk chocolate or chocolate with espresso/coffee/liqueur? Dark chocolate with espresso
2. Morning coffee, tea, or something cold? Coffee coffee coffee
3. Do you own an I-Pod? ayup, for those work outs that I intend to do....
4. Computer for every person in the house plus, one for everyone and no more, or one or two 'family use'? every person plus... can you say 'husband is addicted to computer gadgetry?
5. Pre-schooler more likely to turn on the televsion and change channels, or turn on the computer and close/delete/ files? Turn on puter,sit down and starts typing...
6. Video games, online games, or nothing more than bejweled? Try to play Galactic Civ, love the game, get conquered far too often to stick with it. WoW til I get bored with that, and bejeweled is the devil.
7. Blogger cuz it's fun, blogger cuz you're bored, blogger cuz why not? I'm not actually sure why...
8. Cell phone utilizes every programmable function and all contacts are stored, five contacts are stored the rest are saved in the 'last called' list, cell phones have programmable functions? Five contacts are stored, lost the book, can't program without instruction manual.
9. What kind of residence do you claim, apartment, condo, split level, ranch, farmhouse etc? Split-level.
10. View out the living room window/kitchen window. living room: street and greenbelt. Kitchen, yard, and all my neighbor's yards.
11. Vhere is your computer? In my own mini-office open to the living room, where the dining room table should be.
12. Which coast would you live on if you had your choice? West, and North, where I am, but closer to the ocean or a bit more rural.
13. Favorite season? Fall.
14. When do you hit the sack? Anywhere between 10 and 11 p.m.
15. When does the alarm rip you from dreamland? 6:45 am.
That's it!
And see since it's not emailed, NO PRESSURE.
So I made my own, but I'm not e-mailing it out, because while I will perpetuate a chain of 'answer these silly questions' e-mail, I won't start one. Disclaimer: I will never send you one of those chain letters like 'this really works, send to ten friends and God will send the lotto numbers to you in a dream, but if you don't, he'll send a flood to your basement....
1: Milk chocolate or chocolate with espresso/coffee/liqueur? Dark chocolate with espresso
2. Morning coffee, tea, or something cold? Coffee coffee coffee
3. Do you own an I-Pod? ayup, for those work outs that I intend to do....
4. Computer for every person in the house plus, one for everyone and no more, or one or two 'family use'? every person plus... can you say 'husband is addicted to computer gadgetry?
5. Pre-schooler more likely to turn on the televsion and change channels, or turn on the computer and close/delete/ files? Turn on puter,sit down and starts typing...
6. Video games, online games, or nothing more than bejweled? Try to play Galactic Civ, love the game, get conquered far too often to stick with it. WoW til I get bored with that, and bejeweled is the devil.
7. Blogger cuz it's fun, blogger cuz you're bored, blogger cuz why not? I'm not actually sure why...
8. Cell phone utilizes every programmable function and all contacts are stored, five contacts are stored the rest are saved in the 'last called' list, cell phones have programmable functions? Five contacts are stored, lost the book, can't program without instruction manual.
9. What kind of residence do you claim, apartment, condo, split level, ranch, farmhouse etc? Split-level.
10. View out the living room window/kitchen window. living room: street and greenbelt. Kitchen, yard, and all my neighbor's yards.
11. Vhere is your computer? In my own mini-office open to the living room, where the dining room table should be.
12. Which coast would you live on if you had your choice? West, and North, where I am, but closer to the ocean or a bit more rural.
13. Favorite season? Fall.
14. When do you hit the sack? Anywhere between 10 and 11 p.m.
15. When does the alarm rip you from dreamland? 6:45 am.
That's it!
And see since it's not emailed, NO PRESSURE.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Do You Mind
I was sitting at the computer with my little bear on my lap, hiccuping.
"momma." says the sweet toddling boy.
"hiccup."
"momma," he says again, this time closing my mouth with his hands.
"hiccup."
"Momma! Do you mind?"
hiccup
"Momma do you mind momma?"
"Bear..."
"Shoosh momma, shoosh."
"momma." says the sweet toddling boy.
"hiccup."
"momma," he says again, this time closing my mouth with his hands.
"hiccup."
"Momma! Do you mind?"
hiccup
"Momma do you mind momma?"
"Bear..."
"Shoosh momma, shoosh."
Thursday, September 07, 2006
4 - 7:30 p.m.
These are the worst hours of the day, because these are the hours of the day when the children are the crankiest, especially when they haven't had their nap.
Right now, they are screaming about trains, whining about everything and clinging to me to intervene, but I refuse, because then they will only move on to something else to scream, whine, cling or cry about.
So if you'll excuse me,
amidst the noise of crying, screaming, whining, pleading and clinging
I am going to have a nice glass of wine, and pretend I am somewhere else.
Right now, they are screaming about trains, whining about everything and clinging to me to intervene, but I refuse, because then they will only move on to something else to scream, whine, cling or cry about.
So if you'll excuse me,
amidst the noise of crying, screaming, whining, pleading and clinging
I am going to have a nice glass of wine, and pretend I am somewhere else.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Phat lewt
McRed, in an effort to lure me to the point of gadgetry, to lure me to that dark path he has walked for so many years, has won.
I've stolen his pda because I'm tired of calling up random places asking if I or any member of my family has an appointment any time in the near future because I could swear maybe I did.
Then, he gave me the laptop. And I got this beauty. I was originally going to go for a similar style but with skulls, but McRed suggested this one might be better. Plus, it matches everything and won't look weird with jeans. Apparently, at McRed's suggestion, my new Saturday morning hangout is a coffee shop with my laptop and some writing. Best thing, it has room for diapers, wipes, a water bottle, and my gadgets, BEST best of all, it has a key clip. I am always losing my keys in the bottomless pit of my purses.
So McRed's really serious about me writing, strictly because he wants me to make money at it... but hey, he believes I can so that gets him bucko points. (please don't consider this blog an accurate gauge of my writing, this is my daily rambly non-edited self here)
Then, I ordered this duo stroller, because I can't find it in the stores anywhere, apparently, I've fallen in love with something new. It gets rave reviews for those who do more walking than jogging but might occasionally want to sprint and have you know, twins. I have to wait a week or two for it to come in, because apparently, the entire country is ordering this stroller, and they are either on back order, or being shipped in October, or you get the idea. I ordered mine off of Amazon, lets see how it works. I'm very excited. For those who I haven't whined to, my stroller was stolen (or left, one can't be too sure of these things) somewhere.
On the edge of a storm of shopping mania, I used my credit card rewards to get me a gift card to Starbucks, Eddie Bauer and Barnes and Noble.
Go Me.
I've stolen his pda because I'm tired of calling up random places asking if I or any member of my family has an appointment any time in the near future because I could swear maybe I did.
Then, he gave me the laptop. And I got this beauty. I was originally going to go for a similar style but with skulls, but McRed suggested this one might be better. Plus, it matches everything and won't look weird with jeans. Apparently, at McRed's suggestion, my new Saturday morning hangout is a coffee shop with my laptop and some writing. Best thing, it has room for diapers, wipes, a water bottle, and my gadgets, BEST best of all, it has a key clip. I am always losing my keys in the bottomless pit of my purses.
So McRed's really serious about me writing, strictly because he wants me to make money at it... but hey, he believes I can so that gets him bucko points. (please don't consider this blog an accurate gauge of my writing, this is my daily rambly non-edited self here)
Then, I ordered this duo stroller, because I can't find it in the stores anywhere, apparently, I've fallen in love with something new. It gets rave reviews for those who do more walking than jogging but might occasionally want to sprint and have you know, twins. I have to wait a week or two for it to come in, because apparently, the entire country is ordering this stroller, and they are either on back order, or being shipped in October, or you get the idea. I ordered mine off of Amazon, lets see how it works. I'm very excited. For those who I haven't whined to, my stroller was stolen (or left, one can't be too sure of these things) somewhere.
On the edge of a storm of shopping mania, I used my credit card rewards to get me a gift card to Starbucks, Eddie Bauer and Barnes and Noble.
Go Me.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Lawn Mowing Gnomes and Other Tales
Read Tale 1 for Lawn Mowing Gnomes.
Read Tale 2 about Toddler Fashion.
Read Tale 3 about the Durango Distress Call.
Read Tale 4 about the Dark is Coming.
And for those who wondered,
Apparently absolutely nothing happened during the first day of fourth grade.
Read Tale 2 about Toddler Fashion.
Read Tale 3 about the Durango Distress Call.
Read Tale 4 about the Dark is Coming.
And for those who wondered,
Apparently absolutely nothing happened during the first day of fourth grade.
Tale 3
Da Durango
Brrring brrringg (telephone)
"Hello."
"Lisa. Oh my gawd," drawls my Southernfied younger brother of nine years. When he gets really excited, his drawl gets real bad and I can barely make him out. When he's had a bit too much to drink, I don't know what the hell he's on about. "You own a Durango, right?"
"Yes," I say, clearly and drawl-free.
"What year is it?" says who I shall refer to as Music Boy.
"2003."
"Oh man. Oh gawd, mine is a '99." Mine? Last I heard, he was lucky to find a place that would rent an apartment to him, and every reputable car dealership had turned his sorry-college-grad-broke, financially-disaster-prone clueless-money-wise brother down. "Listen," he drawls.(I'm not the only one who commands people I'm speaking to to actually listen...)
"My fucking alarm won't stop. I turned the fucking thing on last night when I got home, and I opened the passenger door and now it fucking won't stop and the truck won't start." This language from a music teacher at an elementary and high school in the poshest, priciest part of Georgia, in the Atlanta area. "Did you ever have that happen?"
"Yes, just turn the alarm off with the key fab." Like, Duuuhh.
"I don't have one. I got a copy of the orginal key but that's it." (Sooo umm how'd you turn the alarm off? no no don't ask, you'll be here all day) "I called my landlord and he thought it sucked." Yep, it would suck. "I called dad, he didn't know what the fuck to do he just yelled at me, told me all what I should have done and then bitched at me 'what the fuck Music Boy, how the fuck you gonna get to school tomorrow?' so he wasn't any help." (note about my dad, he's a brilliant man, best father you could ask for, great in a pinch, but when you get yourself in a fix, he can only be helpful if he swears at you, even better if there's a group to swear at or an object. when he can't help you, well, sit yourself down for a nice Sicilian cursing)
I look at McRed.
"Don't give me the phone. I don't want to fucking talk to him." (note, McRed is furious that my brother took 7 years to get his degree on my dad's dime. He doesn't care that he's a musician with half his head permanetly in musical la la creative land, or that the reason he's got this posh position so young is because he's amazingly talented, truly good with kids and an excellent born-teacher, albeit a bit curse-happy, financially disastrous, and honestly, to those who know and love him, filled with angst, nervous energy, and a walking messy wreck truly in need of a wife to settle him down... someone, please... marry him... we fixed him best we could... oh right, so McRed has decided to not speak to him until he's 30, married, or better, a father.
So I look at him again pleafully. McRed says, "there's usually some combination of brake/steering wheel movements to disarm the alarm and allow the truck to start." ummm.
"Okay Music Boy, so you opened the passenger side with the key that's a copy and the alarm turned on?" I ask.
"yeah I dont' fucking know what to do. My landlord didn't know what to do. Dad couldn't help. No one fucking knows what to do." So he calls me, his big sister. I'm touched.
"Okay. So. Did you get out of the truck, shut the doors, lock them, and then open the driver's side door with the key?"
Silence.
"Naw," the drawl is thickening. "It can't fucking be that. Oh my fucking gawd..." (i truly hope his language is different with the band kids)
Silence.
Then...
I hear a deep throaty engine noise, followed by the exact sound made in the garbage chute scene during Star Wars when they are all about to be crushed but R2-D2 saves the day. Hooting, hollering and sheer joy that lives have just been saved.
I start laughing with him. McRed grins (because he can't believe my idea actually worked).
"Oh my fucking gawd. I LOVE you lahdeeda. I fucking love you. Oh I am not going to tell anyone this shit. It's too fucking embarassing. No fuck that. I'm telling everyone, this shit's fucking funny. Fucking even dad didn't know what the fuck to do. I wasn't gonna call you, cuz I didn't think you could help but then I remembered you had a Durango. oh fucking shit. I LOVE you lahdeeda I fucking LOVE you ahhh ah ah ha ha ha" The drawl is nearing incomprehensible.
"You better call dad and tell him I fucking figured it out." I remind him.
Note to all, whenever I'm the last resort of hope, I usually pull through, this is why people call me. Yet, they all seem surprised when my advice works.
Second note, if you don't believe me about the drawl, it's so bad, once I dialed the wrong number, but didn't realize it until after a twenty-minute conversation with another drawling southerner who, as it so happened, at first thought I was an out-of-state cousin of his wife's, and at second thought, was too polite to interrupt the conversation to let me know he wasn't my brother... which started another conversation... you get the idea.
"Yeah I fucking will. Oh thank gawd. oh man, I fucking love you. I'm fucking gonna send you a thing of Baileys."
"Yeah, send me Bailey's Music Boy, that'd be perfect." It would, too, but he'll never actually get around to shipping it, and quite frankly, he'll buy me a bottle and then drink it. It's our 'thing' that we both love the same favorite drink and the same favorite lunch.
Brrring brrringg (telephone)
"Hello."
"Lisa. Oh my gawd," drawls my Southernfied younger brother of nine years. When he gets really excited, his drawl gets real bad and I can barely make him out. When he's had a bit too much to drink, I don't know what the hell he's on about. "You own a Durango, right?"
"Yes," I say, clearly and drawl-free.
"What year is it?" says who I shall refer to as Music Boy.
"2003."
"Oh man. Oh gawd, mine is a '99." Mine? Last I heard, he was lucky to find a place that would rent an apartment to him, and every reputable car dealership had turned his sorry-college-grad-broke, financially-disaster-prone clueless-money-wise brother down. "Listen," he drawls.(I'm not the only one who commands people I'm speaking to to actually listen...)
"My fucking alarm won't stop. I turned the fucking thing on last night when I got home, and I opened the passenger door and now it fucking won't stop and the truck won't start." This language from a music teacher at an elementary and high school in the poshest, priciest part of Georgia, in the Atlanta area. "Did you ever have that happen?"
"Yes, just turn the alarm off with the key fab." Like, Duuuhh.
"I don't have one. I got a copy of the orginal key but that's it." (Sooo umm how'd you turn the alarm off? no no don't ask, you'll be here all day) "I called my landlord and he thought it sucked." Yep, it would suck. "I called dad, he didn't know what the fuck to do he just yelled at me, told me all what I should have done and then bitched at me 'what the fuck Music Boy, how the fuck you gonna get to school tomorrow?' so he wasn't any help." (note about my dad, he's a brilliant man, best father you could ask for, great in a pinch, but when you get yourself in a fix, he can only be helpful if he swears at you, even better if there's a group to swear at or an object. when he can't help you, well, sit yourself down for a nice Sicilian cursing)
I look at McRed.
"Don't give me the phone. I don't want to fucking talk to him." (note, McRed is furious that my brother took 7 years to get his degree on my dad's dime. He doesn't care that he's a musician with half his head permanetly in musical la la creative land, or that the reason he's got this posh position so young is because he's amazingly talented, truly good with kids and an excellent born-teacher, albeit a bit curse-happy, financially disastrous, and honestly, to those who know and love him, filled with angst, nervous energy, and a walking messy wreck truly in need of a wife to settle him down... someone, please... marry him... we fixed him best we could... oh right, so McRed has decided to not speak to him until he's 30, married, or better, a father.
So I look at him again pleafully. McRed says, "there's usually some combination of brake/steering wheel movements to disarm the alarm and allow the truck to start." ummm.
"Okay Music Boy, so you opened the passenger side with the key that's a copy and the alarm turned on?" I ask.
"yeah I dont' fucking know what to do. My landlord didn't know what to do. Dad couldn't help. No one fucking knows what to do." So he calls me, his big sister. I'm touched.
"Okay. So. Did you get out of the truck, shut the doors, lock them, and then open the driver's side door with the key?"
Silence.
"Naw," the drawl is thickening. "It can't fucking be that. Oh my fucking gawd..." (i truly hope his language is different with the band kids)
Silence.
Then...
I hear a deep throaty engine noise, followed by the exact sound made in the garbage chute scene during Star Wars when they are all about to be crushed but R2-D2 saves the day. Hooting, hollering and sheer joy that lives have just been saved.
I start laughing with him. McRed grins (because he can't believe my idea actually worked).
"Oh my fucking gawd. I LOVE you lahdeeda. I fucking love you. Oh I am not going to tell anyone this shit. It's too fucking embarassing. No fuck that. I'm telling everyone, this shit's fucking funny. Fucking even dad didn't know what the fuck to do. I wasn't gonna call you, cuz I didn't think you could help but then I remembered you had a Durango. oh fucking shit. I LOVE you lahdeeda I fucking LOVE you ahhh ah ah ha ha ha" The drawl is nearing incomprehensible.
"You better call dad and tell him I fucking figured it out." I remind him.
Note to all, whenever I'm the last resort of hope, I usually pull through, this is why people call me. Yet, they all seem surprised when my advice works.
Second note, if you don't believe me about the drawl, it's so bad, once I dialed the wrong number, but didn't realize it until after a twenty-minute conversation with another drawling southerner who, as it so happened, at first thought I was an out-of-state cousin of his wife's, and at second thought, was too polite to interrupt the conversation to let me know he wasn't my brother... which started another conversation... you get the idea.
"Yeah I fucking will. Oh thank gawd. oh man, I fucking love you. I'm fucking gonna send you a thing of Baileys."
"Yeah, send me Bailey's Music Boy, that'd be perfect." It would, too, but he'll never actually get around to shipping it, and quite frankly, he'll buy me a bottle and then drink it. It's our 'thing' that we both love the same favorite drink and the same favorite lunch.
Tale 2
Toddler Fashion
So I go to the mom's business meeting, which, frankly, I find all business meetings boring, but I've been neglecting this one so often, I felt I had to go. Also, I'm getting along better with some of the moms, so I want to sort of 'ride' that wave. I dress the boys (key there, I dress them) and let them have 'choices' in their shirts. We rush out and get there on timeish. The meeting ends and I'm walking down the stairs.
"ooh they are so cute" says a tres trendy mom with flowing black wavy skirt and white polo top, carrying a trendy infant of the non-spit-up variety. "Oooh you let them dress themselves. Most mom's wouldn't agree, but I'm all for that" and I smile. I've got my mom-superior humble face on. I say 'Yes, I let them pick their shirts out" because clearly thats' what she's referring to. The shirts are rather loud, but I'm a bit confused, I didn't think they were THAT loud... a bit perhaps, hawaii-ish, but not that bad... until she says...
'ooh i think it's great. so cute. he's got his pants on backward.'
heh. I say...
'silly turbo! you put your pants on backwards and I didn't even notice....'
Heh
So I go to the mom's business meeting, which, frankly, I find all business meetings boring, but I've been neglecting this one so often, I felt I had to go. Also, I'm getting along better with some of the moms, so I want to sort of 'ride' that wave. I dress the boys (key there, I dress them) and let them have 'choices' in their shirts. We rush out and get there on timeish. The meeting ends and I'm walking down the stairs.
"ooh they are so cute" says a tres trendy mom with flowing black wavy skirt and white polo top, carrying a trendy infant of the non-spit-up variety. "Oooh you let them dress themselves. Most mom's wouldn't agree, but I'm all for that" and I smile. I've got my mom-superior humble face on. I say 'Yes, I let them pick their shirts out" because clearly thats' what she's referring to. The shirts are rather loud, but I'm a bit confused, I didn't think they were THAT loud... a bit perhaps, hawaii-ish, but not that bad... until she says...
'ooh i think it's great. so cute. he's got his pants on backward.'
heh. I say...
'silly turbo! you put your pants on backwards and I didn't even notice....'
Heh
Tale 1
| The Lawn Mowing Gnome | ||
Tale 4
The Dark Is Coming
Finally, on a good night note... our Turbo isn't sleeping so well at night. The night visits have been going on for about a month. The absolute not-going-to-sleep has been going on for about a week and a half. Usually, two stories and he's fine, but lately, he's howled and howled and cried himself into hyperventilation. Last night was so bad, I 'rescued' him from his room and put him in our bed. Tonight, McRed went in and talked to him to try to find out what's going on. The boys are 33 months. Bear is going to sleep fine. Finally, McRed talks to him and figures out he's scared.
"Are you scared of the dark?" and finally, Turbo stops his howling, looks at red, takes his thumb out, and says "The dark is coming." Re-insert thumb. "The dark is coming daddy."
I'm trying to figure out where this variation of his 'The rain is coming mama" came from, but whatever. we get it. He's scared of the dark. Totally terrified. Maybe too much Thomas? They did some spooky stuff. Probably just his age. Anyhow, to avoid the 'dark' of outside, and the 'dark' of night in his room, we've left the door open so he can see the hall light.
Now, you might not recall, Bear is an opportunist. Bear sleeps fine. Bear doesn't howl usually at bedtime. But as McRed was getting a fan for their room, and I was by Turbo's bedside, comforting him and stroking his head, Bear gets up. Comes over to me. Puts his hand on my shoulder, looks at me, and with all the fear of a dragon flying over a flock of sheep, says "mommy, dark is coming" and sits on my lap and hugs me. Gee. Attention hog. So I faux-comforted Bear and we got Turbo settled.
Fourth Grade
Apparently, absolutely nothing noteworthy happened today on Drama's first day of school.
And that is my lengthy post of the day.
Finally, on a good night note... our Turbo isn't sleeping so well at night. The night visits have been going on for about a month. The absolute not-going-to-sleep has been going on for about a week and a half. Usually, two stories and he's fine, but lately, he's howled and howled and cried himself into hyperventilation. Last night was so bad, I 'rescued' him from his room and put him in our bed. Tonight, McRed went in and talked to him to try to find out what's going on. The boys are 33 months. Bear is going to sleep fine. Finally, McRed talks to him and figures out he's scared.
"Are you scared of the dark?" and finally, Turbo stops his howling, looks at red, takes his thumb out, and says "The dark is coming." Re-insert thumb. "The dark is coming daddy."
I'm trying to figure out where this variation of his 'The rain is coming mama" came from, but whatever. we get it. He's scared of the dark. Totally terrified. Maybe too much Thomas? They did some spooky stuff. Probably just his age. Anyhow, to avoid the 'dark' of outside, and the 'dark' of night in his room, we've left the door open so he can see the hall light.
Now, you might not recall, Bear is an opportunist. Bear sleeps fine. Bear doesn't howl usually at bedtime. But as McRed was getting a fan for their room, and I was by Turbo's bedside, comforting him and stroking his head, Bear gets up. Comes over to me. Puts his hand on my shoulder, looks at me, and with all the fear of a dragon flying over a flock of sheep, says "mommy, dark is coming" and sits on my lap and hugs me. Gee. Attention hog. So I faux-comforted Bear and we got Turbo settled.
Fourth Grade
Apparently, absolutely nothing noteworthy happened today on Drama's first day of school.
And that is my lengthy post of the day.
Morning brief
This is a two-post day.
Anyhow, I walked Drama to school, but didn't stay long enough to see her into the class. McRed had to go to work, and she's in fourth grade, so it's not like this is all that new. Met and had a happy chat with the neighbors we get along with briefly.
Drama is in fourth grade.
Yikes. She's growing up. I've already decided to get her 'Are You There God, it's Me Margaret' because I know she'll relate soon. Plus, it deals with things I don't mind talking about, but don't know how to bring up... you know like, HEY, one day, out of the blue, you're going to be a fucking bitch, and not know why. You'll cry, be angry, yell, and have cramps that feel like you're dying, and suddenly, for the first time ever, you'll understand what being a whale must feel like, to top it all off, you're going to just start bleeding out of nowhere, but don't WORRY, it's normal. Here, have some breakfast...'
See? Easier to have her read the book, THEN talk about it.
Well, I'll update on the first day tonight!
Anyhow, I walked Drama to school, but didn't stay long enough to see her into the class. McRed had to go to work, and she's in fourth grade, so it's not like this is all that new. Met and had a happy chat with the neighbors we get along with briefly.
Drama is in fourth grade.
Yikes. She's growing up. I've already decided to get her 'Are You There God, it's Me Margaret' because I know she'll relate soon. Plus, it deals with things I don't mind talking about, but don't know how to bring up... you know like, HEY, one day, out of the blue, you're going to be a fucking bitch, and not know why. You'll cry, be angry, yell, and have cramps that feel like you're dying, and suddenly, for the first time ever, you'll understand what being a whale must feel like, to top it all off, you're going to just start bleeding out of nowhere, but don't WORRY, it's normal. Here, have some breakfast...'
See? Easier to have her read the book, THEN talk about it.
Well, I'll update on the first day tonight!
Monday, September 04, 2006
The End of Summer
Good-bye Summer. See ya later.
It's about time.
Tomorrow, Sept. 5, is Drama's first day of fourth grade.
I'm walking her to class, though really, she's old enough to go herself, it's just a big deal for her. She has got a lot on her plate this fall, I think maybe too much. She's got two days of gymnastics for two hours and a day of ballet for an hour. I may have her cut one activity. I'll see how we all do with three days of activities. I'm dreading the boys.
I'm also re-starting the gym. We shall see how that goes. No trainer. I want to be able to skip it when I want to skip it ha ha ha. Plus, now I know how everything works, so I'm good. Oh, and I just want to do cardio for a bit, less weights for now.
My classes start up again tomorrow. I understand on a fundamental level that I'm taking this degree in case I need to get a job, that it's to help if for some reason one income doesn't cut it or if for some reason my masterpiece novels which I'm SURELY going to write some day don't get recognized well, til, you know, ever, that I'll have a useful degree to fall back on.
But I HATE it. I'd much rather be doing English literature. Or even history. Argh.
That's all.
Happy Summer is Over month!
I await the cool weather with glee!
It's about time.
Tomorrow, Sept. 5, is Drama's first day of fourth grade.
I'm walking her to class, though really, she's old enough to go herself, it's just a big deal for her. She has got a lot on her plate this fall, I think maybe too much. She's got two days of gymnastics for two hours and a day of ballet for an hour. I may have her cut one activity. I'll see how we all do with three days of activities. I'm dreading the boys.
I'm also re-starting the gym. We shall see how that goes. No trainer. I want to be able to skip it when I want to skip it ha ha ha. Plus, now I know how everything works, so I'm good. Oh, and I just want to do cardio for a bit, less weights for now.
My classes start up again tomorrow. I understand on a fundamental level that I'm taking this degree in case I need to get a job, that it's to help if for some reason one income doesn't cut it or if for some reason my masterpiece novels which I'm SURELY going to write some day don't get recognized well, til, you know, ever, that I'll have a useful degree to fall back on.
But I HATE it. I'd much rather be doing English literature. Or even history. Argh.
That's all.
Happy Summer is Over month!
I await the cool weather with glee!
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