Sunday, January 30, 2011
Correct me if I'm wrong, but zinc lozenges are supposed to help ward off colds, right? 'Cause the kind I got would be more aptly named "colon cleanse". So if anyone would like some thoroughly gut-wrenching, enema-like action, just let me know! I've got the perfect thing for you to suck on. (Fast-acting, too-- you'll be running for the pot before the lozenge is even dissolved. Call me!)
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
I help out in LM's class once a week. Usually his teacher has me making copies, filing homework into take-home folders, creating charts and posters-- you know, your average busy work. But yesterday his teacher had a substitute, and this gal wasn't exactly sure what to do with me. So I suggested I help a group of kids who were struggling to finish their writing assignment. (I admit the fact my son happened to be in that group biased my decision greatly. So sue me.) The sub seemed relieved to be freed up to concentrate on the rest of the class, so off I went.
Now, you all know I have a daughter-- so I'm not unaware of what little girls are like. But, jimmeny crickets, the girls in this group were a piece of work! My hats off to all the public school teachers (and private, for that matter) who so lovingly help these children navigate childhood. Here, let me relay a snippet of their conversation to you. It's not an exact replication, mind you, but it's dang close.
Me: "Why don't you girls get started? Do you need some help reading the first question?"
Girl 1: "Can I move seats?"
Me: "What for?"
Girl 1: (pointing to Girl 2) "She's my enemy."
Me: "What? That's silly! Why?" (My mistake-- never ask these types of questions to 7-year old girls.)
Girl 1: "Well, because she's Girl 3's enemy. So I can't be friends with her either."
(Girl 3 nods vigorously.)
Me: "Listen, isn't it better to get along? Why don't all three of you decide to be friends instead of enemies? You'd have a lot more fun!"
(Meanwhile, the boys in the group have their heads down, busy at work-- probably trying to stay out of the crossfire. I'm feeling sheepish for even engaging in this silliness, but there's no turning back now!)
Girls 1, 2 and 3 think. Girl 1 comes up with a plan.
Girl 1: (to Girl 2) "You can be my friend in the morning! And Girl 3 can be my friend in the afternoon and on the bus!"
All 3 girls giggle in delight at this mortifying solution. At this point, I decide to abandon the group therapy session in favor of working.
Me: (redirect!) "What have you written down for the first question?"
Girl 1: "I worked it out with Girl 2! We're not enemies anymore!"
Me: (tired of this nonsense) "Great! Read the first question!"
Girl 1: (to Girl 3, whose "friend time" it currently was) "You'd better come over and write with me! It's your time to be with me, after all-- so you should use it wisely." (Yes, this is a fairly direct quote.)
Me: (persistent, yet powerless) "Question one, ladies! What is your answer?!"
Girls 1, 2 and 3: (giggling and talking amongst themselves).
Me: (deciding that social harmony has its place in the educational setting, thus abandoning the girls to themselves and instead moving on to help the boys, who have no interest in this drama).
Sheesh. I think the next time I volunteer, I will happily make my copies and do my filing. There is no drama in paper, after all. Thank goodness....
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I just realized it's been a while since I posted any quotes. It's about time, I'd say!
1. LM: (trying to convince me to go to Nini's house) "C'mon, Mom, we need a good outside, fresh-air car ride!"
(Or, is it more likely you just need a dose of Spongebob?)
2. Ruby Jane: (responding to someone inquiring about her eating habits) "Sure I'd be a vegetarian-- if meat grew on trees!"
(There's a comedian in every family, no?)
3. Me: "LM, you have a pretty good sister there!"
Ruby Jane: "Pretty good? I think I deserve a little more credit than that."
(Well, sometimes anyway....)
4. LM: "Hey you, dummies! Let's use our dumb power!"
(I'd like to know what kind of power utilizes stupidity as its main force. Could be interesting....)
5. LM: (burping loudly after finishing his drink) "Whoa! That was definitely 30 weight!"
(The guys get this one, at least.)
6. The Bopper: (trying to speak like a pirate) "Ahoy, me farties!"
(Or would that be hearties? Probably depends on if she's speaking to a roomful of little boys or not.)
7. LM: (after I explained he needs more space between the words in his sentences) "But, Mom, I don't do spaces."
(I see.... I suppose you also don't do spelling and grammar either?)
8. LM: "Holy-moley mackamoley!"
(A new spin on holy mackerel? I like it!)
9. LM: (after struggling with a bout of diarrhea) "My pooper's broken!"
(Dang, bud, I hate it when that happens....)
10. Me: (sitting here, ready to post) "Hey, LM, give me a tenth quote for my blog."
LM: (breaking out into song) "Rise on to Jesus. Rise on to God! Rise on to God and Jesus. Don't give up on rising to Heaven and your destiny! Rise on! Rise on to your destiny. Rise on to the battles with Jesus and his angels. Let go of your toys! Just drop that toy on the ground, it doesn't matter if it breaks! Then rise up to Jesus! Jesus is your God! Rise up to Jesus, rise up to Jesus, rise up to Jesus. Rise! Up! To! Jesus! Don't give up, Americans. Don't give up, even the Africans! Satan is nothing but a booger. We are like the flowers of time. Don't give up for Jesus! Rise up to Jesus Christ!"
Alright, so stay tuned for a worship album written and performed by LM-- should be like nothing you've ever heard before. Until then....
Thursday, January 13, 2011
I may have made a ninny of myself tonight, but I'm sure nobody is surprised to hear this. I was at a restaurant with some girlfriends, see, and needed to get some change before paying my bill. I was directed to the bar for this transaction, but was stopped before I could walk in.
"Are you over 21?"
A simple yes or no would have sufficed. But I was much too flattered to let it go at that.
"Really? Do I look like I'm not over 21?" I asked a little too giddily. "'Cause I was 21 ages ago!" (I think over a decade can be defined as "ages"-- don't you?) I proceeded to blather on a bit more before thanking the hostess profusely for asking.
The girl looked at me with what could have been construed as pity, or possibly just annoyance. But I don't care. I wanted to ask her a bit more about what it was exactly that led her to believe I might not be old enough to walk into a bar. My wonderful hair? My youthful skin? My cool outfit? Let's discuss! But this gal was clearly not as interested in the topic as I was. Reluctantly, I decided to let it go. So I walked into the lounge area, looking around to see if anyone else was noticing the child who had just snuck in amongst them. But, um, nobody noticed. Bummer.
So I conducted my business and left the lounge, back into a reality where my friends think it's hilarious anyone would mistake me for a minor. Yeah, but it was a fun fantasy-land trip while it lasted....
Monday, January 10, 2011
I just love providing examples of the excellent parenting skills hubby and I possess. I mean, sheesh, our expertise needs to be shared so that it can benefit and bless others who happen to come across this sage blog.
Take, for example, the new word that hubby taught the children. Turd. "Turdman", actually. Isn't that so quaint? And when it comes out of the sweet mouth of a 7-year old child it just warms your heart right up! Hubby came up with this lovely term after our dog did her, um, business out in the snow the other day. You see, her business closely resembled the shape of that dear winter character we all know and love, Frosty. Insert "turd" in place of "snow" and, voila, you have "turdman".
Charming! So, naturally, when LM began singing about "Frosty the turdman" you can imagine how pleased I was with his newfound lexicon. Way to utilize those new vocab words, buddy!
So there you have it, folks. A creative idea for you to incorporate new words into your children's vocabulary. (Not to mention reinforcing their already growing fascination with the natural phenomena called doggie poo.) Lovely!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
For those of you who have or have had (or have yet to have) adolescent daughters, you might understand why I've come to the conclusion that they are a creature worthy of scientific study and analysis. I'm thinking of investing in a pair of binoculars and some camouflage so I can hide out and watch Ruby Jane from afar. She's fascinating!
Just this morning she engaged in some sort of ritualistic dressing dance. From what I could gather through my observations, it was intended to get her into a pair of her uber-tight skinny jeans. I wish I could have videotaped it, but alas I will have to settle for a verbal description instead.
First she wriggled in and hopped around just to get the things on. Once they were up, stretching them out enough to zip and button them became the new, far more elusive, goal. I stared as she bent this way and that, stretching a leg here, dipping a knee there, and gyrating her hips in large circles. She would then suck in her pre-teen belly and make an attempt at clasping the button shut. Her first attempt failed, but she would not be so easily dissuaded. She increased the fervency of her actions, now doing hip flexors, deep squats and twists with gusto. If I hadn't known she was simply getting dressed, I might have assumed she was warming up for some sort of serious athletic event.
After this second (more extensive) set of stretches, Ruby exhaled forcefully, flattened her abs and pulled her pants together as tightly as she could. This was the big moment: could she get the button closed? I waited, holding my breath, and silently willed her success. But it was not to be. Her arms flopped to her sides as she recognized defeat, and she turned to me with an expression only a tween girl can arrange her face into. "Too tight?" I asked stupidly. "Yes!" came the exasperated reply.
At this moment I knew I needed to tread as carefully as if I were trying to woo a wild animal. I made myself as small as possible, stretched out my hand and lowered my voice to a soft, gentle cooing tone. "Sweetie, you're growing. It happens to everyone. Just go put on a pair of jeans that do fit, and we'll give those away, okay?" Getting rid of the offending jeans being one of the primary ways to diffuse the situation. It worked. She flew back to her bedroom and changed, happy to discard the jeans that had threatened her very delicate self-esteem.
Whew! That was a close call. I can see that further study will be needed in order to continue effectively handling this complex creature who is my daughter. But having a front row seat to the morphing process? I wouldn't trade it for anything. (Heck, it's incredibly entertaining...knock on wood.)
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
So, yesterday I plucked a (I kid you not) 1 1/2 inch long hair from the middle of my cheek. I have to wonder...how long has that been growing there? And I didn't even notice?! How have I been putting make-up on the last few weeks and not seeing the man-hair sprouting from my face? Amazing.
Please, if I happen to grow a beard without noticing-- just tell me. The truth may hurt, but it's better than walking around looking like a lumberjack.