Last evening, I came home from work, and remembered that I had forgotten to plan anything for dinner. The ever nutritious standby of pancakes was utilized, while I tried to ignore the sugar and empty carb content of this meal.
Opening the refrigerator, I saw that we were nearly out of syrup. (Fake syrup. Yes. We live in maple country, surrounded by maple farms, maple syrup, and live in the middle of the Maple Festival. I have fake syrup at my house.) Anyhow, thinking we had a new bottle of fake syrup kicking around, I stretched over the ever inconveniently placed husky, to reach a top shelf for fake syrup, and a large can of pears pretty much launched itself off another shelf and landed on my foot. To this minute, I cannot believe how painful that was. Normally my threshold for pain is pretty high. This rated up there with some of the worst pain of my life. Realizing thru a foggy haze, that all four of my children were watching me, I yelled "BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS BAD WORDS!!!!!!" And attempted deep breathing. Kaila offered to continue the pancakes, and I sat down for a minute to collect my whimpering self, incredulous at the absolute pain that this had caused.
A few minutes later, I limped back into the kitchen, and thanked Kaila for making dinner. The conversation then went as such:
"I know you were thinking bad words, when you were saying "BAD WORDS!", Mom." comments George. "You MEANT "Eff something."
"Or G-- D--- something" agrees Kaila.
"Definitely the S H word. Several times" chimes in Joe
"Probably the H E double hockey stick word" adds Lexi
"And the Beaver Dam word, only, without the Beaver in it." nods George.
"You could have just said them. We would have understood." one of them threw in.
"You kids shouldn't even know what those words ARE." I pointed out darkly, with the realization that my children have the vocabulary of seaside dock workers.
"Dad." They all nodded, throwing him under the proverbial bus.
At this point, I received a call from a friend, who had called over the weekend with medical questions about his elderly mother. I had advised a trip to the ER. I inquired as to the health of his mother, and was told "Oh, I don't know. I talked to someone else, who said it was probably nothing."
"What? Who else did you talk to?"
"Cathy something or other. She is a friend of my brother's."
"And what does Cathy do?"
"She is a nurse."
"Where?"
"Well. I mean. Not a nurse nurse."
"What is 'not a nurse nurse' , exactly?"
"Well, she works in a nursing home doing something, so, she knows medical stuff. She's in that field and is around that kind of thing a lot."
"You are a truck driver, right?"
"What does that have to do with anything?! You know I am!"
"Next time I have questions about trucks, truck driving, road conditions, thruway conditions - anything - I am going to go find an AMISH PERSON AND ASK THEM!!!! Those buggies have 4 wheels! They are obviously knowledgeable about transportation. They even ride in vehicles, if they can find someone to drive them. Being around all that, I am sure they know stuff."
"Shut up."
"Bad Words."
Anyhow. My foot still hurts, I probably won't ask the Amish people for driving advice, and I am blessedly happy it's Friday! Have a good weekend!
Friday, February 26, 2016
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
I Have No Clean Glasses. No Drinks For You!
My cat is very sad. It is very tragic, really. I am not sure how it happened, but, George's aquarium full of fish were Flashlight (the kitty's) pets, it seems. She would sit and watch them for hours. She never tried to eat them, she just liked to watch them.
Sunday morning, Flashlight began running between all the bedrooms meowing and scratching at doors, all upset. She batted everyone's heads, and tried desperately to wake everyone up, making an unholy racket the entire time.
Sometime during the night, the entire aquarium went belly up and sunk to the bottom. Every single fish was dead. And the poor cat was beside herself. I am not sure if we are going to refill the aquarium for George's benefit, or the cat's, at this point. The poor cat is inconsolable.
George cried for a few minutes, when we finally found the will to break it to him. We all gathered around the toilet full of dead fish, while George said a few words over them. No one knows what he said though, because Bearded Man was scrubbing the aquarium out in the bathtub and the water was running too loudly for anyone to hear. All I know is that it seemed heartfelt. George then flushed the toilet and told us we could all go now.
Along with the aquarium full of dead fish, we were dealing with Joe's loose tooth. It was making him completely crazy. Because it was making Joe crazy, Joe was making the entire family crazy. He could not get it out. It took him days. Shortly after scrubbing out the aquarium, Bearded Man wrapped fishing line around the tooth and popped it right out, to the relief of the entire family.
"But, what if I lose the bag with the tooth in it before I go to bed tonight?" Wondered our ever optimistic Joe.
"Then I find it, stick it under my pillow and keep the dollar" piped up George.
During the past month, we celebrated Lexi's 12th Birthday. My little Bohemian! It seems like she was just born. I often muse that I should photograph her daily clothing choices. They are like no other. This morning, she wore to school: A pink t-shirt with black hearts on the front. A black and white patterned skirt that is longer in the back than in the front, bright blue leggings, neon green knee socks, and, silver ugg style boots covered completely in sequins. We never know what Lexi will wander down the stairs wearing. Sometimes the outfits get crazy enough to ship her right back up stairs to change again, but, normally, if that is what Lexi wants to wear, why argue the individuality? I suspect it irritates her teacher, though.
Also of note in our household, is Joe's first crush. A girl at school asked him if he would be her Valentine. She informed Joe that she liked him because he was not only very handsome, but very smart, too. Joe appreciated that a girl could appreciate his brains and not just his good looks, so, he agreed to think it over, telling her that this was a big decision and it would take him a few days.
When he weighed the pros and cons, Joe decided he liked the idea of being this girl's Valentine. He decided he should probably make sure his teeth were shiny, and requested that I go buy a rose, so he could give it to the girl in question with his affirmative answer. Lexi graciously provided one of her pink Birthday roses for the occasion, and Joe headed off to school to give it to her.
What Joe did NOT count on, was one of his friends. His friend reportedly liked the girl in question LAST year, and has decided he maybe likes her again THIS year. The other boy is outraged that Joe and the girl are an item. This was demonstrated with a dodge ball attack in gym, which had poor Joe diving in front of balls aimed at the girl in question. The other boy has taken to buying the girl in question ice cream at lunch now. Which has outraged Joe. Joe was off to school with his tooth fairy money today, to buy her ice cream before the other boy could again. 5th grade. All this drama in 5th grade. I don't have these issues with my daughters. Actually, Kaila is very put out that the boys in high school don't seem to have on ounce of the romance Joe somehow has.
Last evening I listened in slack jawed amazement to Joe's description of this girl's hair. He compared the color quite poetically to a sunset right after a storm. If he rattles off that description to that girl directly, I guarantee that the other (ice cream buying/dodge ball throwing) boy doesn't stand a chance.
Last evening we had visitors! During the long dark winter, visiting seems to fall off, as everyone is pretty much hauling kids to various things, or, huddled on their couches under blankets and scrolling through their phones. I was so happy to see people! After the obligatory "You can come in, but I am so sorry that the house is not 100%. There is no point in cleaning until Spring time" I had a happy house full of people and a nice visit. In the back of my mind though, I was panicking. These people were SOUTHERN people. With Southern accents, and "Y'alls" and "Yes Ma'ams" and everything! Southern people are the most hospitable people ever! My hostessing skills were terrible. Because, I knew I should probably at least offer them a drink. I couldn't though. Every single cup in the house had been used, and the evening dishes had not been done yet due to a Boy Scout meeting. I had no sweet tea (I think that's what Southern people drink, right?) and nothing fancier than animal crackers to serve. My refrigerator is currently full of fruits and vegetables.
Hanging on the living room wall were several paint chips, as I try to decide what color would work with the dining room, and I internally gave thanks that I had resisted the urge to put my nightgown on after dinner. I was so pitifully happy to see people that were not offspring or patients! We had the nicest visit, but, I wanted to haul one of my kids aside and beg them to whip up some iced tea and find some decent glasses in the worst way, the entire time.
Bearded Man's 40th Birthday is almost here! The conversations have gone as such:
"What do you want to do for your 40th?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want a party?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to go out with friends?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want a date night?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to do something special?"
"I don't know."
"What would you like for a present?"
"I don't know."
"I am going to choke you in about two minutes. What kind of cake do you want?"
"Funfetti. With sprinkles on top."
I ended up buying tickets to go see Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy the day after his birthday. I also managed to score reservations at a hard to get reservations at restaurant. He was happy about the tickets, but, after inspecting the menu at the restaurant, announced he was unable to pronounce most of the menu, and didn't seem enthused. So, that was scratched. Dinosaur BBQ it is!
Anyhow. That's the excitement in our household lately. Mostly we are worn out and wishing for nice weather, longer nights, clean dishes and a magic Home Decorating Paint Fairy to come to my house and find colors that I can live with that will somewhat match the dining room. I should just get rid of the dining room wall paper, but, I feel like that would destroy the feel of the entire house. Curse the wall paper sicko who decided to wall paper most of the house!!!!!! It's nice and all, but nothing I ever would have picked. Anyhow. That's about it for now.
Sunday morning, Flashlight began running between all the bedrooms meowing and scratching at doors, all upset. She batted everyone's heads, and tried desperately to wake everyone up, making an unholy racket the entire time.
Sometime during the night, the entire aquarium went belly up and sunk to the bottom. Every single fish was dead. And the poor cat was beside herself. I am not sure if we are going to refill the aquarium for George's benefit, or the cat's, at this point. The poor cat is inconsolable.
George cried for a few minutes, when we finally found the will to break it to him. We all gathered around the toilet full of dead fish, while George said a few words over them. No one knows what he said though, because Bearded Man was scrubbing the aquarium out in the bathtub and the water was running too loudly for anyone to hear. All I know is that it seemed heartfelt. George then flushed the toilet and told us we could all go now.
Along with the aquarium full of dead fish, we were dealing with Joe's loose tooth. It was making him completely crazy. Because it was making Joe crazy, Joe was making the entire family crazy. He could not get it out. It took him days. Shortly after scrubbing out the aquarium, Bearded Man wrapped fishing line around the tooth and popped it right out, to the relief of the entire family.
"But, what if I lose the bag with the tooth in it before I go to bed tonight?" Wondered our ever optimistic Joe.
"Then I find it, stick it under my pillow and keep the dollar" piped up George.
During the past month, we celebrated Lexi's 12th Birthday. My little Bohemian! It seems like she was just born. I often muse that I should photograph her daily clothing choices. They are like no other. This morning, she wore to school: A pink t-shirt with black hearts on the front. A black and white patterned skirt that is longer in the back than in the front, bright blue leggings, neon green knee socks, and, silver ugg style boots covered completely in sequins. We never know what Lexi will wander down the stairs wearing. Sometimes the outfits get crazy enough to ship her right back up stairs to change again, but, normally, if that is what Lexi wants to wear, why argue the individuality? I suspect it irritates her teacher, though.
Also of note in our household, is Joe's first crush. A girl at school asked him if he would be her Valentine. She informed Joe that she liked him because he was not only very handsome, but very smart, too. Joe appreciated that a girl could appreciate his brains and not just his good looks, so, he agreed to think it over, telling her that this was a big decision and it would take him a few days.
When he weighed the pros and cons, Joe decided he liked the idea of being this girl's Valentine. He decided he should probably make sure his teeth were shiny, and requested that I go buy a rose, so he could give it to the girl in question with his affirmative answer. Lexi graciously provided one of her pink Birthday roses for the occasion, and Joe headed off to school to give it to her.
What Joe did NOT count on, was one of his friends. His friend reportedly liked the girl in question LAST year, and has decided he maybe likes her again THIS year. The other boy is outraged that Joe and the girl are an item. This was demonstrated with a dodge ball attack in gym, which had poor Joe diving in front of balls aimed at the girl in question. The other boy has taken to buying the girl in question ice cream at lunch now. Which has outraged Joe. Joe was off to school with his tooth fairy money today, to buy her ice cream before the other boy could again. 5th grade. All this drama in 5th grade. I don't have these issues with my daughters. Actually, Kaila is very put out that the boys in high school don't seem to have on ounce of the romance Joe somehow has.
Last evening I listened in slack jawed amazement to Joe's description of this girl's hair. He compared the color quite poetically to a sunset right after a storm. If he rattles off that description to that girl directly, I guarantee that the other (ice cream buying/dodge ball throwing) boy doesn't stand a chance.
Last evening we had visitors! During the long dark winter, visiting seems to fall off, as everyone is pretty much hauling kids to various things, or, huddled on their couches under blankets and scrolling through their phones. I was so happy to see people! After the obligatory "You can come in, but I am so sorry that the house is not 100%. There is no point in cleaning until Spring time" I had a happy house full of people and a nice visit. In the back of my mind though, I was panicking. These people were SOUTHERN people. With Southern accents, and "Y'alls" and "Yes Ma'ams" and everything! Southern people are the most hospitable people ever! My hostessing skills were terrible. Because, I knew I should probably at least offer them a drink. I couldn't though. Every single cup in the house had been used, and the evening dishes had not been done yet due to a Boy Scout meeting. I had no sweet tea (I think that's what Southern people drink, right?) and nothing fancier than animal crackers to serve. My refrigerator is currently full of fruits and vegetables.
Hanging on the living room wall were several paint chips, as I try to decide what color would work with the dining room, and I internally gave thanks that I had resisted the urge to put my nightgown on after dinner. I was so pitifully happy to see people that were not offspring or patients! We had the nicest visit, but, I wanted to haul one of my kids aside and beg them to whip up some iced tea and find some decent glasses in the worst way, the entire time.
Bearded Man's 40th Birthday is almost here! The conversations have gone as such:
"What do you want to do for your 40th?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want a party?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to go out with friends?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want a date night?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to do something special?"
"I don't know."
"What would you like for a present?"
"I don't know."
"I am going to choke you in about two minutes. What kind of cake do you want?"
"Funfetti. With sprinkles on top."
I ended up buying tickets to go see Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy the day after his birthday. I also managed to score reservations at a hard to get reservations at restaurant. He was happy about the tickets, but, after inspecting the menu at the restaurant, announced he was unable to pronounce most of the menu, and didn't seem enthused. So, that was scratched. Dinosaur BBQ it is!
Anyhow. That's the excitement in our household lately. Mostly we are worn out and wishing for nice weather, longer nights, clean dishes and a magic Home Decorating Paint Fairy to come to my house and find colors that I can live with that will somewhat match the dining room. I should just get rid of the dining room wall paper, but, I feel like that would destroy the feel of the entire house. Curse the wall paper sicko who decided to wall paper most of the house!!!!!! It's nice and all, but nothing I ever would have picked. Anyhow. That's about it for now.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Mama Goes to a Meeting
I am feeling very let down by my fellow parents. How is it that our school system has had parent and child "Project Know" meetings every single year, and no one has seen fit to EVER talk about it?
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, Project Know is this fun little 4 day class that introduces 5th and 6th Graders to puberty, reproduction and all those sorts of subjects.
The notice came home a few weeks ago. Parents needed to sign permission slips to indicate if their child(ren) were attending or not. I asked Lexi if she wanted to go again this year. "NO! Now that I am going thru it all, I can tell you that Project Know was completely irrelevant to the actual process and a waste of my time!" Alrighty then. No, Lexi is not going.
I asked Joe. "YES! I have LOTS of questions!" I reminded him I was capable of answering questions, but, he really wanted to attend. So, I signed the slip and promptly forgot about it. With the mental pity to whomever will have to answer his direct and numerous questions. Once Joe is onto a subject, he will not let it go until he knows everything he needs or wants to know about it. This has often taken weeks, if not months of constant quizzing and questions, until he is satisfied. His 5th grade teacher never wants to hear about the Titanic. Ever. NEVER EVER again. Nor does our entire family.
I honestly had no idea that the program had started this week. Neither Lexi nor Joe mentioned it at our nightly dinner discussions about our days.
Last evening, I came home from work, starving after skipping lunch at work, as I was busy all day, and threw together a beef pot pie. It included leftover beef pot roast, veggies, a homemade gravy with cream, and a cheddar herbed crust. I was starving, and at that "hangry" point. I slid it into the oven, and turned around to don yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
"Mom. We need to talk. I had the WORST. DAY. EVER! Also, Dad said that you are the parent that needs to go to the meeting tonight at 6 at the school!" Announced Joe.
"Wait, what? What meeting? It's 5:30 now!"
"The Project Know meeting, Mom! I told Dad about it after school today, and he said that that is something you need to do!"
"Tonight? What? Where is your Father? I need to talk to him." Talk. Scream. Potato. Potahto.
"I had a bad day. I need to talk about this. And you need to get ready for the meeting. It's for parents and children. Also, I have a lot of questions about what we are learning, and they said I could ask them all tonight at the meeting."
"Ummm. What KIND of questions? I can probably answer them for you. I AM a nurse you know. I can help you out. Would you like to talk about it now?"
"You know things about the human body?"
"Yes."
"What is the smallest bone in the human body?"
"Ummmm." Sheer and total blankness. I couldn't think of it for the life of me.
"Clearly you don't know about the human body. We are going to the meeting. Also: The smallest bone in the human body is in the inner ear."
After a discussion about Joe's lousy day, he felt better, and, I put my coat and sneakers back on, as my dinner continued to bake. Ah well.
We arrived at the school and parents filed into the indicated room, children in tow. A screen was set up on the white board, indicating some sort of movie would be played. A woman who I presumed was running the meeting sat at one end of the room scrolling through her phone. People filed quietly in, and, eventually a friend of mine and her daughter slid into the chairs next to Joe and I.
The meeting began with the woman who was running it asking the kids about a 10 piece puzzle they had all put together earlier in the day. Each piece had a word on it. Things like:
Goals
Respect
Puberty
and stuff like that.
"Now kids! WHAT do all these things together signify? That's right! SEXUALITY!!! We are ALL sexual people!"
"Oh Dear Lord." I mumbled.
"Okay now! Who wants to play a GAME?" She hyped enthusiastically. The kids all seemed excited. The parents, not so much. "I have to switch screens here. I put the movie screen up, because I wanted the game to be a SURPRISE!" She said, going to her computer, and clicking a few things. Suddenly, up popped "Puberty Jeopardy".
My eyes closed, and my friend next to me snickered. How is it, that every single year, parents have been subjected to "Puberty Jeopardy" and NOT ONE PERSON has seen fit to mention this?
Anyhow, Puberty Jeopardy thankfully ended after an eternity of parents that mostly looked like they were in the seventh circle of hell, and kids who excitedly shouted out answers.
Then the video began. It was a fun little short film that was narrated by a man and a woman, and had some animated little bits that showed changed to expect with little left to the imagination. The woman running this meeting told the kids they were lucky! They were getting a sneak peak at the film, as, it was going to be played again in it's entirety the very next day in class! Joe announced on the spot that he didn't want to go to school. Also, he felt he should warn his friends that hadn't come to the meeting, what they were in for, so they could stay home too.
After the video, and the feeling that we had been kept prisoner in that room for 14 eternities, there was the handouts and activities therein portion of the festivities. There were handouts for the adults, and handouts for the kids. These were to "foster communication, so that all the adults and kids could feel comfortable discussing uncomfortable things"
The first activity was to talk about our children about "what we were feeling when we brought them home"
Total blankness. I remember that day vaguely. Honest to goodness, it was awful. We had a rattletrap for a vehicle at the time, as, my car had been totaled when some guy ran a red light. It was a million degrees outside, the vehicle had no air conditioning, and, we had no one to watch the girls that day. So, Jasin had to bring everyone to the hospital to pick us up. I was sore from a c section, stressed, hot, tired and out of sorts.
I absolutely could not tell my expectant child this. I told him I was so excited to bring him home, and how happy I was to be able to put him in his own crib in his new room with new carpet and all decorated.
The woman running things told us our time to discuss this was up, and gushed about how wonderful it is, to watch the interactions and hugging and connecting! Wait! What? Was there supposed to be hugging? I don't even know.
We began to look through the adult and child handouts. The adults had questions like:
What is your child's height (within one inch?)
If your child could do anything he or she choses for one day, what would it be?
What is the last movie your son/daughter saw?
What is your child's favorite dinner? (NOTHING!!!!!!!!!)
Would your son or daughter rather ride a horse, a bike or in a car?
On and on and on.
I am a failure as a mother. I honest to goodness had the slightest idea, the answers to most of these questions. "It's like you don't even know me at all!" burst out Joe.
Also, at the bottom of the parent handout, was a little disclaimer. "Please note that any resource on sexuality may or may not reflect your family's values." it went on to say "The views expressed in these resources do not necessarily reflect those of Project Know".
"Wait!" I said to my friend next to me, "WHOSE Values and views DO they resflect, then?"
The woman running the proceedings excitedly told us how happy she was that, this year, she gets to teach her OWN children the Project Know program, because they are both in the grades that participate. I cannot imagine at all, that it is not life scarring for her children, to learn of such things from your mother in front of your entire grade, and all their friends and enemies. What could go wrong?
Anyhow. Eventually the entire traumatic meeting came to an end. Joe announced he would probably try to get out of school the next day. There was an announcement that the children could all pick a new book from the selection lying about the room. Joe picked out a Magic Tree House book, and we headed home.
"So. Joe. Do you have questions? Anything you want to talk about? I know you had a lot of questions before the meeting..."
"No. I'm good. I just want to read my book now."
End of subject.
In conclusion. I feel like this is a public service. You now know, what happens at a Project Know meeting.
I feel it is only fair that, the instructor who has Joe tomorrow, will be interrogated thoroughly by my kid, and will reconsider his life choices immediately after.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, Project Know is this fun little 4 day class that introduces 5th and 6th Graders to puberty, reproduction and all those sorts of subjects.
The notice came home a few weeks ago. Parents needed to sign permission slips to indicate if their child(ren) were attending or not. I asked Lexi if she wanted to go again this year. "NO! Now that I am going thru it all, I can tell you that Project Know was completely irrelevant to the actual process and a waste of my time!" Alrighty then. No, Lexi is not going.
I asked Joe. "YES! I have LOTS of questions!" I reminded him I was capable of answering questions, but, he really wanted to attend. So, I signed the slip and promptly forgot about it. With the mental pity to whomever will have to answer his direct and numerous questions. Once Joe is onto a subject, he will not let it go until he knows everything he needs or wants to know about it. This has often taken weeks, if not months of constant quizzing and questions, until he is satisfied. His 5th grade teacher never wants to hear about the Titanic. Ever. NEVER EVER again. Nor does our entire family.
I honestly had no idea that the program had started this week. Neither Lexi nor Joe mentioned it at our nightly dinner discussions about our days.
Last evening, I came home from work, starving after skipping lunch at work, as I was busy all day, and threw together a beef pot pie. It included leftover beef pot roast, veggies, a homemade gravy with cream, and a cheddar herbed crust. I was starving, and at that "hangry" point. I slid it into the oven, and turned around to don yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
"Mom. We need to talk. I had the WORST. DAY. EVER! Also, Dad said that you are the parent that needs to go to the meeting tonight at 6 at the school!" Announced Joe.
"Wait, what? What meeting? It's 5:30 now!"
"The Project Know meeting, Mom! I told Dad about it after school today, and he said that that is something you need to do!"
"Tonight? What? Where is your Father? I need to talk to him." Talk. Scream. Potato. Potahto.
"I had a bad day. I need to talk about this. And you need to get ready for the meeting. It's for parents and children. Also, I have a lot of questions about what we are learning, and they said I could ask them all tonight at the meeting."
"Ummm. What KIND of questions? I can probably answer them for you. I AM a nurse you know. I can help you out. Would you like to talk about it now?"
"You know things about the human body?"
"Yes."
"What is the smallest bone in the human body?"
"Ummmm." Sheer and total blankness. I couldn't think of it for the life of me.
"Clearly you don't know about the human body. We are going to the meeting. Also: The smallest bone in the human body is in the inner ear."
After a discussion about Joe's lousy day, he felt better, and, I put my coat and sneakers back on, as my dinner continued to bake. Ah well.
We arrived at the school and parents filed into the indicated room, children in tow. A screen was set up on the white board, indicating some sort of movie would be played. A woman who I presumed was running the meeting sat at one end of the room scrolling through her phone. People filed quietly in, and, eventually a friend of mine and her daughter slid into the chairs next to Joe and I.
The meeting began with the woman who was running it asking the kids about a 10 piece puzzle they had all put together earlier in the day. Each piece had a word on it. Things like:
Goals
Respect
Puberty
and stuff like that.
"Now kids! WHAT do all these things together signify? That's right! SEXUALITY!!! We are ALL sexual people!"
"Oh Dear Lord." I mumbled.
"Okay now! Who wants to play a GAME?" She hyped enthusiastically. The kids all seemed excited. The parents, not so much. "I have to switch screens here. I put the movie screen up, because I wanted the game to be a SURPRISE!" She said, going to her computer, and clicking a few things. Suddenly, up popped "Puberty Jeopardy".
My eyes closed, and my friend next to me snickered. How is it, that every single year, parents have been subjected to "Puberty Jeopardy" and NOT ONE PERSON has seen fit to mention this?
Anyhow, Puberty Jeopardy thankfully ended after an eternity of parents that mostly looked like they were in the seventh circle of hell, and kids who excitedly shouted out answers.
Then the video began. It was a fun little short film that was narrated by a man and a woman, and had some animated little bits that showed changed to expect with little left to the imagination. The woman running this meeting told the kids they were lucky! They were getting a sneak peak at the film, as, it was going to be played again in it's entirety the very next day in class! Joe announced on the spot that he didn't want to go to school. Also, he felt he should warn his friends that hadn't come to the meeting, what they were in for, so they could stay home too.
After the video, and the feeling that we had been kept prisoner in that room for 14 eternities, there was the handouts and activities therein portion of the festivities. There were handouts for the adults, and handouts for the kids. These were to "foster communication, so that all the adults and kids could feel comfortable discussing uncomfortable things"
The first activity was to talk about our children about "what we were feeling when we brought them home"
Total blankness. I remember that day vaguely. Honest to goodness, it was awful. We had a rattletrap for a vehicle at the time, as, my car had been totaled when some guy ran a red light. It was a million degrees outside, the vehicle had no air conditioning, and, we had no one to watch the girls that day. So, Jasin had to bring everyone to the hospital to pick us up. I was sore from a c section, stressed, hot, tired and out of sorts.
I absolutely could not tell my expectant child this. I told him I was so excited to bring him home, and how happy I was to be able to put him in his own crib in his new room with new carpet and all decorated.
The woman running things told us our time to discuss this was up, and gushed about how wonderful it is, to watch the interactions and hugging and connecting! Wait! What? Was there supposed to be hugging? I don't even know.
We began to look through the adult and child handouts. The adults had questions like:
What is your child's height (within one inch?)
If your child could do anything he or she choses for one day, what would it be?
What is the last movie your son/daughter saw?
What is your child's favorite dinner? (NOTHING!!!!!!!!!)
Would your son or daughter rather ride a horse, a bike or in a car?
On and on and on.
I am a failure as a mother. I honest to goodness had the slightest idea, the answers to most of these questions. "It's like you don't even know me at all!" burst out Joe.
Also, at the bottom of the parent handout, was a little disclaimer. "Please note that any resource on sexuality may or may not reflect your family's values." it went on to say "The views expressed in these resources do not necessarily reflect those of Project Know".
"Wait!" I said to my friend next to me, "WHOSE Values and views DO they resflect, then?"
The woman running the proceedings excitedly told us how happy she was that, this year, she gets to teach her OWN children the Project Know program, because they are both in the grades that participate. I cannot imagine at all, that it is not life scarring for her children, to learn of such things from your mother in front of your entire grade, and all their friends and enemies. What could go wrong?
Anyhow. Eventually the entire traumatic meeting came to an end. Joe announced he would probably try to get out of school the next day. There was an announcement that the children could all pick a new book from the selection lying about the room. Joe picked out a Magic Tree House book, and we headed home.
"So. Joe. Do you have questions? Anything you want to talk about? I know you had a lot of questions before the meeting..."
"No. I'm good. I just want to read my book now."
End of subject.
In conclusion. I feel like this is a public service. You now know, what happens at a Project Know meeting.
I feel it is only fair that, the instructor who has Joe tomorrow, will be interrogated thoroughly by my kid, and will reconsider his life choices immediately after.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Kindergarten Hunger Games
Today, George turns 6! I am ridiculously proud that we have kept that child whole and in one piece this long. The rest of my kids, we celebrate their Birthdays the typical way. Every year on George's Birthday, I breathe a sigh of relief that he made it another year without any major catastrophe.
For his birthday, George decided that he wanted to go to the Buffalo Museum, of Science, and to Build a Bear. So, entire family in tow, we spent Saturday at the museum and the mall. While walking thru the mall, we did happen to pass Victoria's Secret. Looking away in indignation, George informed us that he "Can't even look at that. That is SO inappropriate!"
Also, for his Birthday, George begged for a "Matchbox Treasure Tracker" treasure tracking truck. Evidently his friend down the road has one and claims he found an entire box of treasure buried in his back yard. Hoping the novelty wears off before spring, or I will likely be frantically buying a wooden treasure box and filling it with all my spare change to bury in the back yard, come spring.
For school, George wanted to bring in cupcakes "with the rings in them? You know what I mean, mom?"
Sunday evening, I was out grocery shopping, just as a nasty snow storm hit. My van does so/so in the snow, and I was worried about getting back home in one piece. I grabbed one dozen cupcakes - with rings - on my way through the store, and continued on my way, thinking about the drive home and all the sliding we had done on the way to the store. Upon my arrival home, George looked at the cupcakes and said "But Mom. There are 17 kids in my class!"
Yesterday, I drove to the local grocery store, as I needed to fuel up my van for the week (I had to do this, because I was absolutely not filling up my vehicle the night before as I should have, because I was not putting all that money into it and then risking wrecking it on the way home. Does anyone else think that way?) Anyhow, I ran into the store after filling the van up, and fingers crossed, headed to the bakery. Where there were cupcakes. None of them with rings though. So. Today, George will take 18 cupcakes to his Kindergarten Class. Only 12 of which have rings. I am officially the worst mother ever. In hindsight, I should have just bought 18 ring-less cupcakes, and kept the others at home. I didn't, however. Therefore, I will now spend the entire day feeling like a jerk. May the odds be ever in your favor, kids!
Next month is Lexi's Birthday. She had originally planned to have a tea /garden party birthday with a bunch of friends. There was going to be tulle and twinkle lights and tea sandwiches, a dessert table and lots of fresh flowers, including miniature rose bushes that everyone could take home. There would have been tulle covered balloon trees and amazing crafts to do, too. I had all sorts of nifty ideas. ("Mom! Some of my friends said that, if it isn't going to be a sleepover party then they don't want to come!" "Lexi. you need different friends. Just saying.")
Anyhow, while walking through the mall over the weekend, Lexi thought that maybe her amazing party could wait till NEXT year, when she turns 13, and this year, she could just get some money so she could have a day spent shopping at the mall. The deal was immediately accepted. Hopefully by next year, her friends will have come to terms with a non sleepover birthday party. Goodness sakes.
An update on Joe's frog. Or toad. Honestly, I have no idea which it is. The amphibian eats crickets.
Joe cannot absolutely not deal with that. He cannot make himself pick one up. He cannot make himself pick up the frog/toad. He just can't. Usually he can get Kaila or Bearded Man to pick up the crickets and feed the frog/toad, if he can't shake one into the amphibian habitat. The other night, he couldn't find anyone to do it for him, so, he looked at George and said "George. Want to go execute a cricket?" I feel nothing but pity for Joe and his frog/toad. Jasin offered to sell it to a local pet store for snake food, but, I wouldn't let him.
Also of note is: The Food Network. My kids have become slightly addicted to "Chopped" as well as several other cooking shows. This has taken the nightly negative critique of dinner to an entirely new level of hell for Mama here.
It occurred to me over the weekend though, that "Chopped" is NOT, indeed, a novel idea. I thought of this, as I gazed with glazed over eyes, at a paper from the school that I found under the coffee table. It indicated that our school is doing yet another "Spirit Week". Roll your eyes. I don't care. I hate Spirit Week. It is just like chopped. In that, you get a note that you probably will not see or remember until your children mention it last minute. You will then have a ridiculously limited amount of time to try and scrounge up whatever items or clothing colors that must be worn (X's multiple children). Or attempt to figure out on the fly how to make buzz cuts look like crazy hair. Or find hats. Or the school colors. Or whatever. Evidently I am miserable and completely unspirited. I apologize. It just adds an entirely new level of stress to the morning routine. On the off chance that we remember these things the night before, it still doesn't help. Chances are, the children will all change their minds about whatever we prepared the night before, by morning. Anyhow. I am sure that the "Chopped" concept was thought up by a Spirit Week parent, who, after going through the aggravation of sending her multiple children off to school as directed by the spirit calendar, opened her refrigerator to try and figure out dinner. Which, I imagine, was probably accomplished with ketchup, carrots and macaroni and cheese.
Anyhow. That is the excitement in our household lately. I wish I could say it's been more thrilling, but, honestly, the biggest thing to happen in our parts has been the Shark Mop. Evidently myself and nearly every other housewife in the area received them for Christmas this year. All local stores are on back order for Shark Mops and Shark Mop cleaner. I am not even exaggerating, when I mention that Bearded Man has been stalking Wal Mart for Shark Mop floor cleaner. Apparently they received a shipment last week. He grabbed the last three bottles, as several women were charging down the aisle for them. It sounds like it was this side of a riot. Which is the type of thing that happens when Bearded Man is laid off for the season. We argue with housewives over floor cleaner in the household appliance aisles at the local Wal Mart.
Till next time! Stay warm!
For his birthday, George decided that he wanted to go to the Buffalo Museum, of Science, and to Build a Bear. So, entire family in tow, we spent Saturday at the museum and the mall. While walking thru the mall, we did happen to pass Victoria's Secret. Looking away in indignation, George informed us that he "Can't even look at that. That is SO inappropriate!"
Also, for his Birthday, George begged for a "Matchbox Treasure Tracker" treasure tracking truck. Evidently his friend down the road has one and claims he found an entire box of treasure buried in his back yard. Hoping the novelty wears off before spring, or I will likely be frantically buying a wooden treasure box and filling it with all my spare change to bury in the back yard, come spring.
For school, George wanted to bring in cupcakes "with the rings in them? You know what I mean, mom?"
Sunday evening, I was out grocery shopping, just as a nasty snow storm hit. My van does so/so in the snow, and I was worried about getting back home in one piece. I grabbed one dozen cupcakes - with rings - on my way through the store, and continued on my way, thinking about the drive home and all the sliding we had done on the way to the store. Upon my arrival home, George looked at the cupcakes and said "But Mom. There are 17 kids in my class!"
Yesterday, I drove to the local grocery store, as I needed to fuel up my van for the week (I had to do this, because I was absolutely not filling up my vehicle the night before as I should have, because I was not putting all that money into it and then risking wrecking it on the way home. Does anyone else think that way?) Anyhow, I ran into the store after filling the van up, and fingers crossed, headed to the bakery. Where there were cupcakes. None of them with rings though. So. Today, George will take 18 cupcakes to his Kindergarten Class. Only 12 of which have rings. I am officially the worst mother ever. In hindsight, I should have just bought 18 ring-less cupcakes, and kept the others at home. I didn't, however. Therefore, I will now spend the entire day feeling like a jerk. May the odds be ever in your favor, kids!
Next month is Lexi's Birthday. She had originally planned to have a tea /garden party birthday with a bunch of friends. There was going to be tulle and twinkle lights and tea sandwiches, a dessert table and lots of fresh flowers, including miniature rose bushes that everyone could take home. There would have been tulle covered balloon trees and amazing crafts to do, too. I had all sorts of nifty ideas. ("Mom! Some of my friends said that, if it isn't going to be a sleepover party then they don't want to come!" "Lexi. you need different friends. Just saying.")
Anyhow, while walking through the mall over the weekend, Lexi thought that maybe her amazing party could wait till NEXT year, when she turns 13, and this year, she could just get some money so she could have a day spent shopping at the mall. The deal was immediately accepted. Hopefully by next year, her friends will have come to terms with a non sleepover birthday party. Goodness sakes.
An update on Joe's frog. Or toad. Honestly, I have no idea which it is. The amphibian eats crickets.
Joe cannot absolutely not deal with that. He cannot make himself pick one up. He cannot make himself pick up the frog/toad. He just can't. Usually he can get Kaila or Bearded Man to pick up the crickets and feed the frog/toad, if he can't shake one into the amphibian habitat. The other night, he couldn't find anyone to do it for him, so, he looked at George and said "George. Want to go execute a cricket?" I feel nothing but pity for Joe and his frog/toad. Jasin offered to sell it to a local pet store for snake food, but, I wouldn't let him.
Also of note is: The Food Network. My kids have become slightly addicted to "Chopped" as well as several other cooking shows. This has taken the nightly negative critique of dinner to an entirely new level of hell for Mama here.
It occurred to me over the weekend though, that "Chopped" is NOT, indeed, a novel idea. I thought of this, as I gazed with glazed over eyes, at a paper from the school that I found under the coffee table. It indicated that our school is doing yet another "Spirit Week". Roll your eyes. I don't care. I hate Spirit Week. It is just like chopped. In that, you get a note that you probably will not see or remember until your children mention it last minute. You will then have a ridiculously limited amount of time to try and scrounge up whatever items or clothing colors that must be worn (X's multiple children). Or attempt to figure out on the fly how to make buzz cuts look like crazy hair. Or find hats. Or the school colors. Or whatever. Evidently I am miserable and completely unspirited. I apologize. It just adds an entirely new level of stress to the morning routine. On the off chance that we remember these things the night before, it still doesn't help. Chances are, the children will all change their minds about whatever we prepared the night before, by morning. Anyhow. I am sure that the "Chopped" concept was thought up by a Spirit Week parent, who, after going through the aggravation of sending her multiple children off to school as directed by the spirit calendar, opened her refrigerator to try and figure out dinner. Which, I imagine, was probably accomplished with ketchup, carrots and macaroni and cheese.
Anyhow. That is the excitement in our household lately. I wish I could say it's been more thrilling, but, honestly, the biggest thing to happen in our parts has been the Shark Mop. Evidently myself and nearly every other housewife in the area received them for Christmas this year. All local stores are on back order for Shark Mops and Shark Mop cleaner. I am not even exaggerating, when I mention that Bearded Man has been stalking Wal Mart for Shark Mop floor cleaner. Apparently they received a shipment last week. He grabbed the last three bottles, as several women were charging down the aisle for them. It sounds like it was this side of a riot. Which is the type of thing that happens when Bearded Man is laid off for the season. We argue with housewives over floor cleaner in the household appliance aisles at the local Wal Mart.
Till next time! Stay warm!
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Humbugs! Humbugs Everywhere!
Just over a week until Christmas. At this point, I almost cringe, writing the word "Christmas". I have lost count of the times this holiday season, that I have been yelled at, threatened, taken to task, admonished, and coldly informed that this is completely inappropriate to say. What if people are atheist? They do not want to hear about "The Holidays"
Oh, goodness. I have honestly felt myself stumbling, when I start to say "Have a great Holiday Season!" or, "Are you ready for Christmas?" or any such thing anymore. I am so tired of getting yelled at, or shamed for it. Tell me I have offended you by trying to shove "My religion" down your throat ONE. MORE. TIME. Yikes! I am pathetically happy when people say it to me first, now.
I started off cheerful! I did. I was so into the spirit of the season. The excitement. The Advent season. Anticipating the kids' excitement. The decorations. The tree. The shopping and baking and warmth and happiness! The music, the TV specials and the magic that goes with the entire season.
We begin with "Kriskindls" Where everyone in our household draws a name, and then you have to be extra nice to the person who you draw. As well as in general.
I haven't seen too much extra niceness in my house. Also, George figured out how to exploit it shamelessly this year. He drew Joe's name, and has promised to buy Joe the worst things he can find, if Joe does not do exactly as he orders.
Decorations? Meh. My kids could really not care any less. Excitement over the Christmas lights? Nope. The music? Absolutely not. Please change the station. The tree? Not really. The excitement and happiness and peace and goodwill and helping out? Not happening. TV Christmas specials? They would rather watch the Food Network.
I took the girls to a Christmas show, up in Buffalo. Kaila was somewhat impressed. Lexi, not so much.
I am not sure Bearded Man is aware that Christmas is next week at all. He really has yet to acknowledge it.
This week, I took two days off, to launch "Operation Ninja Santa". During which, I started my day off as any normal workday. I donned my scrubs, and left at my usual time, then went Christmas shopping instead. Day one: I wore my Christmas Scrubs, and headed out, Christmas music blaring in the minivan. I headed to the store I knew would be open at 7:30 am, and headed in.
I had deliberately chosen weekdays, and gone early, because I did not want to deal with crowds and lines and chaos. I wanted to shop in relative peace, and not feel rushed. So, minding my own business, I grabbed a cart and started to shop.
It was not very long into my arrival, that I heard "Security scan in section whatever" over the PA system. Vaguely I wondered who was being checked out, and continued on my way.
I was in a toy aisle, when I noticed the woman. She was standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, glaring at me suspiciously. She had no shopping cart, no basket, and there was no indication that she was shopping. She was staring at me challengingly.
When she began to follow me thru every single aisle and section, I realized that I was the security threat I had heard over the loud speaker system.
WHAT? REALLY? For heaven's sake, I was wearing Christmas scrubs and behaving perfectly respectfully! Do I look shifty? Or thuggish? Or suspicious? What on earth?
The woman followed me thru toys, sporting goods, books, crafts - where she leaned on the craft counter chatting with two employees, as they all chatted about what time their shifts ended - footwear, seasonal and office supplies.
I honestly did not want to confront her. I figured there was no way it would end well with me. It was clear that it was thought that I was getting ready to rob the store blind. So, I shopped with a scowling woman following me none too subtly. So much for shopping without aggravation. Clearly my Christmas scrubs did not convey "Harmless Mom, shopping way closer to Christmas than she ever has before, and is trying to cram it all into two days". Instead, it appears that I conveyed "Psychotic suspicious thief who will probably attempt to wheel an entire cart full of goods right out of the store and should we call the police now, so they can be stationed at the doors." It was offensive, actually. So, day two: I went to my sister, and got a haircut. When in doubt, blame the hair. While sitting in front of my sister's obscenely bright lighting in the salon, I discovered I was pale and pasty and had bags and circles under my eyes. Maybe I had conveyed a desperate mom look? So, this morning before coming back to work, I took vitamins and decided to try the evils of tanning, to maybe get some color into the complexion.
Also on Day 2: I told the kids I was staying home from work, sick. That way I could wear normal clothes and head to Buffalo to shop. Update: I am still not completely finished.
Another update: Approximately 4 hours after I purchased an entire set of books for Kaila - she took the first in that same set out at the library. I told her the book was bad and inappropriate and that she was NEVER allowed to read such drivel, and to return it immediately. I think the terse admonishment of taking out such terrible trash to read might have worked. If she's reading it, it's in secret, because it does not appear she has touched it since. Had I not mentioned it, she would have had the entire series finished before Christmas. Desperate measures and stuff.
This weekend, I had planned to bake things. I even started looking at recipes so I could decide what I needed to add to the shopping list.
That time needs to be spent cleaning the house. Today is day 2 that I have left the house without a coat, because I cannot find mine. Which seems to be a trend around here lately. I have lost: My vehicle keys, glasses, socks, 2 coats and, apparently, my mind. Anyhow, I have decided that this weekend might be better spent getting my house in order and finishing up the shopping and wrapping. Santa will probably end up with Oreos. Again.
Back to work again, after 4 days off, we had all chipped in for a few sub platters and brought in dishes to pass, to celebrate Christmas. About an hour after lunch was finished, a completely disgruntled employee from Buffalo crossly demanded we let him in, and shouldered through the door of the clinic with a Christmas lunch from the powers that be, up in Buffalo. He unceremoniously dumped it on the break room table, and stomped back out again. We hesitated to say Merry Christmas to him, either.
While out and about shopping, I also noticed: there are no bell ringers! No Salvation Army pots, no people standing at the doors of the local stores. Nothing.
This past weekend we DID see two men riding horses up and down the road, singing Christmas Carols. No one seemed to notice. Most of our town didn't even put up Christmas lights this year.
Not going to lie. This has really dampened my enthusiasm for the entire season.
Also, Flashlight, the cat, was running from Turbo, the dog. During the chase, the Christmas tree was knocked over. The dog seemed terribly repentant, and clearly felt just awful about it. The cat was smug and seemed to feel that this was richly deserved. Anyhow. Our tree topper angel, with us for nearly 20 years, and every Christmas that Bearded Man and I have been together, no longer lights up. When your angel refuses to light up, you may as well resign yourself to just getting through the rest of the season as best you can.
Christmas Eve, we will go to church. Joe will be Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. George has decided to sing in the Children's Choir. And, if the weather and energy hold, the girls and I will pick up my sister and her kids and head to Buffalo for midnight mass, and to hear the amazing choir beforehand. Hopefully, it will help get everyone into the magical place that seems to difficult to find this year.
Ah well. Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward men. We certainly could use more of it.
Oh, goodness. I have honestly felt myself stumbling, when I start to say "Have a great Holiday Season!" or, "Are you ready for Christmas?" or any such thing anymore. I am so tired of getting yelled at, or shamed for it. Tell me I have offended you by trying to shove "My religion" down your throat ONE. MORE. TIME. Yikes! I am pathetically happy when people say it to me first, now.
I started off cheerful! I did. I was so into the spirit of the season. The excitement. The Advent season. Anticipating the kids' excitement. The decorations. The tree. The shopping and baking and warmth and happiness! The music, the TV specials and the magic that goes with the entire season.
We begin with "Kriskindls" Where everyone in our household draws a name, and then you have to be extra nice to the person who you draw. As well as in general.
I haven't seen too much extra niceness in my house. Also, George figured out how to exploit it shamelessly this year. He drew Joe's name, and has promised to buy Joe the worst things he can find, if Joe does not do exactly as he orders.
Decorations? Meh. My kids could really not care any less. Excitement over the Christmas lights? Nope. The music? Absolutely not. Please change the station. The tree? Not really. The excitement and happiness and peace and goodwill and helping out? Not happening. TV Christmas specials? They would rather watch the Food Network.
I took the girls to a Christmas show, up in Buffalo. Kaila was somewhat impressed. Lexi, not so much.
I am not sure Bearded Man is aware that Christmas is next week at all. He really has yet to acknowledge it.
This week, I took two days off, to launch "Operation Ninja Santa". During which, I started my day off as any normal workday. I donned my scrubs, and left at my usual time, then went Christmas shopping instead. Day one: I wore my Christmas Scrubs, and headed out, Christmas music blaring in the minivan. I headed to the store I knew would be open at 7:30 am, and headed in.
I had deliberately chosen weekdays, and gone early, because I did not want to deal with crowds and lines and chaos. I wanted to shop in relative peace, and not feel rushed. So, minding my own business, I grabbed a cart and started to shop.
It was not very long into my arrival, that I heard "Security scan in section whatever" over the PA system. Vaguely I wondered who was being checked out, and continued on my way.
I was in a toy aisle, when I noticed the woman. She was standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, glaring at me suspiciously. She had no shopping cart, no basket, and there was no indication that she was shopping. She was staring at me challengingly.
When she began to follow me thru every single aisle and section, I realized that I was the security threat I had heard over the loud speaker system.
WHAT? REALLY? For heaven's sake, I was wearing Christmas scrubs and behaving perfectly respectfully! Do I look shifty? Or thuggish? Or suspicious? What on earth?
The woman followed me thru toys, sporting goods, books, crafts - where she leaned on the craft counter chatting with two employees, as they all chatted about what time their shifts ended - footwear, seasonal and office supplies.
I honestly did not want to confront her. I figured there was no way it would end well with me. It was clear that it was thought that I was getting ready to rob the store blind. So, I shopped with a scowling woman following me none too subtly. So much for shopping without aggravation. Clearly my Christmas scrubs did not convey "Harmless Mom, shopping way closer to Christmas than she ever has before, and is trying to cram it all into two days". Instead, it appears that I conveyed "Psychotic suspicious thief who will probably attempt to wheel an entire cart full of goods right out of the store and should we call the police now, so they can be stationed at the doors." It was offensive, actually. So, day two: I went to my sister, and got a haircut. When in doubt, blame the hair. While sitting in front of my sister's obscenely bright lighting in the salon, I discovered I was pale and pasty and had bags and circles under my eyes. Maybe I had conveyed a desperate mom look? So, this morning before coming back to work, I took vitamins and decided to try the evils of tanning, to maybe get some color into the complexion.
Also on Day 2: I told the kids I was staying home from work, sick. That way I could wear normal clothes and head to Buffalo to shop. Update: I am still not completely finished.
Another update: Approximately 4 hours after I purchased an entire set of books for Kaila - she took the first in that same set out at the library. I told her the book was bad and inappropriate and that she was NEVER allowed to read such drivel, and to return it immediately. I think the terse admonishment of taking out such terrible trash to read might have worked. If she's reading it, it's in secret, because it does not appear she has touched it since. Had I not mentioned it, she would have had the entire series finished before Christmas. Desperate measures and stuff.
This weekend, I had planned to bake things. I even started looking at recipes so I could decide what I needed to add to the shopping list.
That time needs to be spent cleaning the house. Today is day 2 that I have left the house without a coat, because I cannot find mine. Which seems to be a trend around here lately. I have lost: My vehicle keys, glasses, socks, 2 coats and, apparently, my mind. Anyhow, I have decided that this weekend might be better spent getting my house in order and finishing up the shopping and wrapping. Santa will probably end up with Oreos. Again.
Back to work again, after 4 days off, we had all chipped in for a few sub platters and brought in dishes to pass, to celebrate Christmas. About an hour after lunch was finished, a completely disgruntled employee from Buffalo crossly demanded we let him in, and shouldered through the door of the clinic with a Christmas lunch from the powers that be, up in Buffalo. He unceremoniously dumped it on the break room table, and stomped back out again. We hesitated to say Merry Christmas to him, either.
While out and about shopping, I also noticed: there are no bell ringers! No Salvation Army pots, no people standing at the doors of the local stores. Nothing.
This past weekend we DID see two men riding horses up and down the road, singing Christmas Carols. No one seemed to notice. Most of our town didn't even put up Christmas lights this year.
Not going to lie. This has really dampened my enthusiasm for the entire season.
Also, Flashlight, the cat, was running from Turbo, the dog. During the chase, the Christmas tree was knocked over. The dog seemed terribly repentant, and clearly felt just awful about it. The cat was smug and seemed to feel that this was richly deserved. Anyhow. Our tree topper angel, with us for nearly 20 years, and every Christmas that Bearded Man and I have been together, no longer lights up. When your angel refuses to light up, you may as well resign yourself to just getting through the rest of the season as best you can.
Christmas Eve, we will go to church. Joe will be Joseph in the Christmas pageant this year. George has decided to sing in the Children's Choir. And, if the weather and energy hold, the girls and I will pick up my sister and her kids and head to Buffalo for midnight mass, and to hear the amazing choir beforehand. Hopefully, it will help get everyone into the magical place that seems to difficult to find this year.
Ah well. Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward men. We certainly could use more of it.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
The Chaos Theory
When we were younger, my Dad, a Meteorologist with the National Weather Service, would talk sometimes about the Chaos Theory. Where, one small thing can happen on the other side of the planet, which, thru a series of events, can turn into a major event or catastrophe halfway around the world.
Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, but, how did my house turn into a zoo?
We began with Flashlight. The cat. Who has never been particularly thrilled with most other animals. Except fish, because they are scrumptious when eaten fresh out of an aquarium.
Then came Buster, the dog. An anxiety ridden thing who is self appointed protector of the kids. No one will ever raise their voice to them, they will not fight, argue or get rough with each other, without Buster intervening, and, anyone who walks within eyesight of the house at anytime is clearly out to murder his entire family, and we must all be alerted immediately. The poor creature is a wreck most of the time, trying to protect this ungrateful family of stupid people who willingly allow potential murderers into the house on a fairly regular basis. The Mail Lady will eventually be the death of all of us.
Almost by accident, came Turbo. Who loves all people, and would love nothing more for every single person in the entire world to come to the house and have a wonderful time, and take what you need, including the kids, and can I show you where the valuables are kept, new BFF????
Then, this summer, we were given lots of guppy fish. Who love nothing more than to produce even more guppy fish. Which will probably mean a larger fish house in the fairly near future. We love nothing more than to hear the excited voices of the children announcing that "Three more look pregnant, Mom!"
The week before Thanksgiving, Joe came home with a note. The note indicated that his class had taken on all sorts of small assorted animals from all different geological habitats, for some Unit they were studying. Apparently no one was willing to come in and deal with these animals thru Thanksgiving vacation, so, it was decided they should be raffled off Chinese Auction style. The note mentioned that no children would be able to participate without signed permission from parents, and breezily assured us that these animals were easy to care for, food for them was readily available at Wal Mart, and that the children were aware of how to care for each animal.
Joe was thrilled. His very own pet. He begged. He pleaded. He guaranteed he was able to take care of whatever he brought home. He was certain he could win one. He already had a plan. I signed the paper without much thought. What were the odds? A few animals, lots of kids - there was a very small chance he would bring anything home.
Wrong. Joe had a plan. What possessed me to underestimate my brilliant kid, I have no idea. But, Joe had no doubt that he was coming home with SOMETHING, and he did, indeed, have a plan. He waited until all the other kids had put their raffle tickets into the Chinese auction bags. He then did a walk thru, inspecting the bags, and then putting his tickets into bags that had either no tickets, or, very few. Thus guaranteeing himself a new pet.
We now own a frog. Or a toad. I don't even know. His name is something along the lines of "Mr. Adorable Awesome Frog Dick" because, my children insist that all our pets must share our last name. And someday, when they are all grown up, I will absolutely sit at some holiday meal and share every single one of the pet names that they have had throughout the years, and they will finally appreciate why Mom closed her eyes and shuddered after every single new pet name announcement.
Anyhow. We found out that Wal Mart does NOT, indeed, carry frog food - aka - crickets. Live crickets. The amphibian needs live things to eat. So, I located a pet store, and we went in search of a frog/toad appropriate tank and crickets.
Where, along with crickets, we found every single sort of pet any kid could ever want. There were fish, (saltwater and freshwater) turtles, frogs, crabs, crabs with painted shells, chinchillas, hamsters, and, birds.
"Mom." began Lexi, "I have never had my own pet. Ever. Every time we tried, they only wanted Kaila. Now we have all these animals, and I am the only kid without a pet. Can I please have a bird?" So, next up: a bird.
Meanwhile, the crickets are not happy about being frog food. They have demonstrated their displeasure in a pretty startling way.
Every time they are thrown into the frog tank, they immediately launch themselves into the water dish and die.
"Mom. Is it NORMAL for crickets to kill themselves?" wondered Joe.
The frog is onto them though. Now it grabs the crickets before they can get to the water dish.
Also, the frog seems to me to be a little on the malevolent side. Every time I look at it, I get the impression it would murder me in my sleep if it could. (That being said, it is currently residing next to the fish aquarium in the boys' room) It seems a little creepily threatening to me, but, I could be wrong.
To wrap it up:
School pets =
Joe pet =
Frog =
Trip to pet store =
Crickets to feed and house =
Birds =
Back the first pet, Flashlight. Who probably thinks these are all her Christmas presents.
Cause and effect and all that.
Nothing quite as dramatic as all that, but, how did my house turn into a zoo?
We began with Flashlight. The cat. Who has never been particularly thrilled with most other animals. Except fish, because they are scrumptious when eaten fresh out of an aquarium.
Then came Buster, the dog. An anxiety ridden thing who is self appointed protector of the kids. No one will ever raise their voice to them, they will not fight, argue or get rough with each other, without Buster intervening, and, anyone who walks within eyesight of the house at anytime is clearly out to murder his entire family, and we must all be alerted immediately. The poor creature is a wreck most of the time, trying to protect this ungrateful family of stupid people who willingly allow potential murderers into the house on a fairly regular basis. The Mail Lady will eventually be the death of all of us.
Almost by accident, came Turbo. Who loves all people, and would love nothing more for every single person in the entire world to come to the house and have a wonderful time, and take what you need, including the kids, and can I show you where the valuables are kept, new BFF????
Then, this summer, we were given lots of guppy fish. Who love nothing more than to produce even more guppy fish. Which will probably mean a larger fish house in the fairly near future. We love nothing more than to hear the excited voices of the children announcing that "Three more look pregnant, Mom!"
The week before Thanksgiving, Joe came home with a note. The note indicated that his class had taken on all sorts of small assorted animals from all different geological habitats, for some Unit they were studying. Apparently no one was willing to come in and deal with these animals thru Thanksgiving vacation, so, it was decided they should be raffled off Chinese Auction style. The note mentioned that no children would be able to participate without signed permission from parents, and breezily assured us that these animals were easy to care for, food for them was readily available at Wal Mart, and that the children were aware of how to care for each animal.
Joe was thrilled. His very own pet. He begged. He pleaded. He guaranteed he was able to take care of whatever he brought home. He was certain he could win one. He already had a plan. I signed the paper without much thought. What were the odds? A few animals, lots of kids - there was a very small chance he would bring anything home.
Wrong. Joe had a plan. What possessed me to underestimate my brilliant kid, I have no idea. But, Joe had no doubt that he was coming home with SOMETHING, and he did, indeed, have a plan. He waited until all the other kids had put their raffle tickets into the Chinese auction bags. He then did a walk thru, inspecting the bags, and then putting his tickets into bags that had either no tickets, or, very few. Thus guaranteeing himself a new pet.
We now own a frog. Or a toad. I don't even know. His name is something along the lines of "Mr. Adorable Awesome Frog Dick" because, my children insist that all our pets must share our last name. And someday, when they are all grown up, I will absolutely sit at some holiday meal and share every single one of the pet names that they have had throughout the years, and they will finally appreciate why Mom closed her eyes and shuddered after every single new pet name announcement.
Anyhow. We found out that Wal Mart does NOT, indeed, carry frog food - aka - crickets. Live crickets. The amphibian needs live things to eat. So, I located a pet store, and we went in search of a frog/toad appropriate tank and crickets.
Where, along with crickets, we found every single sort of pet any kid could ever want. There were fish, (saltwater and freshwater) turtles, frogs, crabs, crabs with painted shells, chinchillas, hamsters, and, birds.
"Mom." began Lexi, "I have never had my own pet. Ever. Every time we tried, they only wanted Kaila. Now we have all these animals, and I am the only kid without a pet. Can I please have a bird?" So, next up: a bird.
Meanwhile, the crickets are not happy about being frog food. They have demonstrated their displeasure in a pretty startling way.
Every time they are thrown into the frog tank, they immediately launch themselves into the water dish and die.
"Mom. Is it NORMAL for crickets to kill themselves?" wondered Joe.
The frog is onto them though. Now it grabs the crickets before they can get to the water dish.
Also, the frog seems to me to be a little on the malevolent side. Every time I look at it, I get the impression it would murder me in my sleep if it could. (That being said, it is currently residing next to the fish aquarium in the boys' room) It seems a little creepily threatening to me, but, I could be wrong.
To wrap it up:
School pets =
Joe pet =
Frog =
Trip to pet store =
Crickets to feed and house =
Birds =
Back the first pet, Flashlight. Who probably thinks these are all her Christmas presents.
Cause and effect and all that.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Kitchen Wars
The Holidays are upon us. First up: Thanksgiving. A time of warmth and thankfulness. Gratitude and family.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving, it means: Cooking, baking, cleaning and shopping.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving in a home that also houses a hunter, it means copious amounts of alcohol.
It used to be cute. Before kids, Bearded Man would get up at 0430, don 67 layers of camo topped with blaze orange, spritz on doe urine and shotgun in hand, would trek through the woods all day. It was nice and peaceful and quiet, and, he never shot anything.
Now that there are children, we are ALL up when Bearded Man gets up at whatever hour of the morning he choses whichever particular day, as loudly as possible. The dogs are up. The kids are up. I am up. The cat is up. Not sure about the fish. They always seem to be up. And adding more fish to their fish family.
Also, the last few years, he has actually shot deer. Which poses problems with Thanksgiving dinner. Because, the deer must be processed etc.
Which, I suppose, brings us to this week.
Saturday: Bearded Man shoots a deer first thing in the morning. Brings it home, and hangs it in his shed. Bearded Man is alerted that Mama needs to work every day but Thursday this week, therefore, the kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5pm. Bearded Man is heartily advised to deal with his deer Sunday.
Sunday: Bearded Man goes hunting again. Does not get a deer. The kids and I, meanwhile, haul the Christmas stuff out of the attic and put it all up. Bearded Man returns home and is advised to get working on the deer. The kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5 PM. I then leave for 2 hours for a previously accepted commitment, and Bearded Man has full kitchen access for the rest of the day. I return home, and Bearded Man is watching TV, while sipping beer. Slight hysteria begins. The deer is then hauled into the house.
Monday: Return home from work, get dinner on the table, and decide to start baking. Bearded Man commands use of half the kitchen, to continue processing the deer. He has also given Lexi allotted time to wash the dishes. When the time is up, complete or not, she must exit the kitchen and leave the sink open. Breads get made, Mama forgets to take Joe to Scouts - AGAIN - and runs him to the meeting 15 minutes late. Decide to clean the refrigerator out Tuesday, because use of the kitchen sink is prohibited. Bearded Man then announces he cannot possibly do more tonight, and will continue Tuesday. Full blown hysteria presents, and this writer announces that she HATES hunting season, she HATES not EVER getting to sleep in, she HATES dealing with sleep deprived kids every weekend, she HATES dead deer on the kitchen table, and further more that NEXT YEAR, she is NOT cooking dinner, and Bearded Man may as well save his money, because he will be driving the entire family to the nearest Thanksgiving Buffet, and that she will plan on sitting around watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and drinking lots of wine!!!!!! Teenage daughter has the unfortunate timing of making a sarcastic remark, and gets yelled at as well. After which, I remembered I had to pick Joe up from his Scout meeting, and left to go get my kid.
During which time, I run into another mother, who had heard that George had just managed to break the same living room window twice in less than 3 days.
"Why is he so violent, I wonder? You really need to spank him more! He is clearly out of control. Maybe he needs help? With this violence?"
*breathe. Just. Breathe.* Seriously, if one more person tells me to beat my child, I may beat them and see how THEY like it. It is NOT nice to tell people to beat people, even if you procreated the subjects one is being advised to beat.
The story goes as such: Saturday, with company on their way over, George, dressed as Iron Man, had gone outside to search for one of his special painted rocks. He found one, and, in full Superhero Mode, somehow, the rock went flying. Right through the window. Thankfully, it was the INSIDE window, and not the outside storm window. When I marched into the living room, he was casually pulling the curtain across it. Upon inspection, there was a hole about 3 inches around, right through the glass.
Company was coming, and honestly, he felt so terrible, I didn't have the heart to do much more than yell.
Monday evening, George was doing his all time favorite thing ever. He was flipping upside down on the couches. This is where he gets a running start and flips up the couch, with his head down, and his feet on the top of it. Apparently he has grown, though, because, his foot went right through the same window. Breaking the rest of it.
He announced in tears that this was the WORST DAY EVER, and, sobbing, took himself (and his unscathed foot) to his room.
Back to the judgy mom and her judgy husband, who were both looking at me disdainfully, and instructing me, like several other parents, to spank my violent out of control kid.
NO! I am not spanking him. For goodness sake, he's five years old, and certainly wasn't breaking the windows deliberately. He is NOT out of control, and I am NOT spanking him for accidents.
There. Go ahead and judge. I don't beat my out of control kids. They will probably be blights of society now. Hashtagsorrynotsorry
For those who have advised me to get better control of my child, as well as those who have informed me that their kid certainly has never had these issues: Good for you. Once again, the title of this Blog indicates that I am aware that I am absolutely not the perfect mother. Ah well. I got that off my chest. We're all good now.
For those of you who are hunters, or, spouses of hunters; I have no issue with hunting. As long as the carcass is not on my kitchen table, I am pretty okay with it all.
If the carcass is on my kitchen table during Thanksgiving prep time; we may have strong words.
Anyhow, at the end of the day, I am sure Thanksgiving will be fine. The dead deer will all be shoved into pig intestines eventually, dinner will get made and eaten, and hunting season, please Lord, will be over soon.
Next up: Christmas!
For those of us that host Thanksgiving, it means: Cooking, baking, cleaning and shopping.
For those of us that host Thanksgiving in a home that also houses a hunter, it means copious amounts of alcohol.
It used to be cute. Before kids, Bearded Man would get up at 0430, don 67 layers of camo topped with blaze orange, spritz on doe urine and shotgun in hand, would trek through the woods all day. It was nice and peaceful and quiet, and, he never shot anything.
Now that there are children, we are ALL up when Bearded Man gets up at whatever hour of the morning he choses whichever particular day, as loudly as possible. The dogs are up. The kids are up. I am up. The cat is up. Not sure about the fish. They always seem to be up. And adding more fish to their fish family.
Also, the last few years, he has actually shot deer. Which poses problems with Thanksgiving dinner. Because, the deer must be processed etc.
Which, I suppose, brings us to this week.
Saturday: Bearded Man shoots a deer first thing in the morning. Brings it home, and hangs it in his shed. Bearded Man is alerted that Mama needs to work every day but Thursday this week, therefore, the kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5pm. Bearded Man is heartily advised to deal with his deer Sunday.
Sunday: Bearded Man goes hunting again. Does not get a deer. The kids and I, meanwhile, haul the Christmas stuff out of the attic and put it all up. Bearded Man returns home and is advised to get working on the deer. The kitchen is OFF LIMITS Mon, Tues, Wed after 5 PM. I then leave for 2 hours for a previously accepted commitment, and Bearded Man has full kitchen access for the rest of the day. I return home, and Bearded Man is watching TV, while sipping beer. Slight hysteria begins. The deer is then hauled into the house.
Monday: Return home from work, get dinner on the table, and decide to start baking. Bearded Man commands use of half the kitchen, to continue processing the deer. He has also given Lexi allotted time to wash the dishes. When the time is up, complete or not, she must exit the kitchen and leave the sink open. Breads get made, Mama forgets to take Joe to Scouts - AGAIN - and runs him to the meeting 15 minutes late. Decide to clean the refrigerator out Tuesday, because use of the kitchen sink is prohibited. Bearded Man then announces he cannot possibly do more tonight, and will continue Tuesday. Full blown hysteria presents, and this writer announces that she HATES hunting season, she HATES not EVER getting to sleep in, she HATES dealing with sleep deprived kids every weekend, she HATES dead deer on the kitchen table, and further more that NEXT YEAR, she is NOT cooking dinner, and Bearded Man may as well save his money, because he will be driving the entire family to the nearest Thanksgiving Buffet, and that she will plan on sitting around watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and drinking lots of wine!!!!!! Teenage daughter has the unfortunate timing of making a sarcastic remark, and gets yelled at as well. After which, I remembered I had to pick Joe up from his Scout meeting, and left to go get my kid.
During which time, I run into another mother, who had heard that George had just managed to break the same living room window twice in less than 3 days.
"Why is he so violent, I wonder? You really need to spank him more! He is clearly out of control. Maybe he needs help? With this violence?"
*breathe. Just. Breathe.* Seriously, if one more person tells me to beat my child, I may beat them and see how THEY like it. It is NOT nice to tell people to beat people, even if you procreated the subjects one is being advised to beat.
The story goes as such: Saturday, with company on their way over, George, dressed as Iron Man, had gone outside to search for one of his special painted rocks. He found one, and, in full Superhero Mode, somehow, the rock went flying. Right through the window. Thankfully, it was the INSIDE window, and not the outside storm window. When I marched into the living room, he was casually pulling the curtain across it. Upon inspection, there was a hole about 3 inches around, right through the glass.
Company was coming, and honestly, he felt so terrible, I didn't have the heart to do much more than yell.
Monday evening, George was doing his all time favorite thing ever. He was flipping upside down on the couches. This is where he gets a running start and flips up the couch, with his head down, and his feet on the top of it. Apparently he has grown, though, because, his foot went right through the same window. Breaking the rest of it.
He announced in tears that this was the WORST DAY EVER, and, sobbing, took himself (and his unscathed foot) to his room.
Back to the judgy mom and her judgy husband, who were both looking at me disdainfully, and instructing me, like several other parents, to spank my violent out of control kid.
NO! I am not spanking him. For goodness sake, he's five years old, and certainly wasn't breaking the windows deliberately. He is NOT out of control, and I am NOT spanking him for accidents.
There. Go ahead and judge. I don't beat my out of control kids. They will probably be blights of society now. Hashtagsorrynotsorry
For those who have advised me to get better control of my child, as well as those who have informed me that their kid certainly has never had these issues: Good for you. Once again, the title of this Blog indicates that I am aware that I am absolutely not the perfect mother. Ah well. I got that off my chest. We're all good now.
For those of you who are hunters, or, spouses of hunters; I have no issue with hunting. As long as the carcass is not on my kitchen table, I am pretty okay with it all.
If the carcass is on my kitchen table during Thanksgiving prep time; we may have strong words.
Anyhow, at the end of the day, I am sure Thanksgiving will be fine. The dead deer will all be shoved into pig intestines eventually, dinner will get made and eaten, and hunting season, please Lord, will be over soon.
Next up: Christmas!
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