Sunday, August 26, 2007

A few bits

10 year old little girls are hilarious. I mean, freakin' hi-LAR-ious. I totally remember being 10 and 11 and my offspring is no different. Except she has cooler hair than I did at 11. Trust me on this one.

And she also has yet to wear twist beads, express a desire to wear twist beads or even know what twist beads are.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

She has, however, expressed a heartfelt desire to have those funky feathered-back wings like Farah Faucett used to wear.

I'm not so happy about that, but they're a far cry better than twist beads.

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Today we went to church for the third - count 'em THIRD - Sunday in a row. The dang Baptists are about to win me over. In fact, not once since we've started going there have I had to supress the urge to call any of them dang Baptists. I think that says a lot for the congregation as a whole.

Today one of the deacons brought the message. It was an amazing sermon and he was a wonderful speaker, but there were several times during the message that he kind of got all kinds of fired up and hollered. Loudly. Now, this doesn't bother me. I've been a Baptist all my life and am quite used to fire and brimstone and a little hellfire and damnation from time to time. I've heard my share of shoutin' preachers in my 34 years. But my children have not. In their limited church experience they've only heard two - Easter Sunday when we went to my uncle's church and today.

I hope the speaker didn't get a complex when he looked about midway back on the right side and saw two of those adorable Hoover kids with their hands over their ears.

I kept snapping my fingers at them and telling them to stop and they would for a few minutes then he'd get wound up again and there'd go their little hands. Toward the end of the sermon Kady crawled up on my lap, laid her head on my shoulder and whispered, "Oy, I have SUCH a headache!"

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I text messaged in church today.

Will God spank me for that when I get to the pearly gates?

I'm just wondering.

I mean, it was because the family Abby had spent the night and had gone to church with were out of church and were kind of wanting to get on with their day without dragging my little orphan child around with them. So technically, I texted because of my child.

Do I get a pass for that?

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Abby's grades were utterly horrendous last year. Bad horrendous. Tonight we went through her first official "Friday folder" and there was ONE "C" and the rest were A's and B's. I was so ecstatic over this and told her repeatedly how proud I am of her.

She lit up. I mean, lit the heck up. She fed off that praise. Now, don't think I don't praise my child, because I do, but for some reason tonight it really made her proud to hear it from me. Not once while going through last week's papers did I feel the urge to strangle her like I did so many times last year. That felt good. It's good to know that I can spend time with my child and not continually want to beat good grades into her.

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Tonight at Wal*Mart Abby picked out some individual packets of Propel that you mix into a bottle of water. Her teacher lets them keep water bottles on their desks and they can add Crystal Light or Propel or whatever to it if they want.

She was ecstatic to discover that the bottle of water she had packed in her backpack for tomorrow was the perfect amount of water for one of those packets. Of course, I did not tell her that duh, they kind of planned it that way because they obviously have researchers and marketing geniuses and stuff.

She was sitting at the dining room table, finishing up the homework she failed to tell me about on Friday night (and Saturday night when she begged to spend the night with her BFF Gabby) when she turned around and said, "Mom?"

I said, "Yeah, babe?"

"Ya know, in the last few weeks I have really seen some cool things in my life that I just know God has had a hand in."

"Oh really? Well, like what?" I was expecting some story about a personal experience or a growth in her faith or something like that.

She picked up her water bottle and the box of Propel packets and said, "Like this. I mean, God just helped me to pick out the perfect size bottle of water."

And I just nodded and said, "Isn't God just awesome?"

"You betcha." And she went back to her homework and I walked into the living room to laugh at my precious daughter that isn't quite as annoying as she was a few weeks ago.

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"OhmygoshItotallyforgottotellyou!"

"What?"

"Mr. Music Teacher rides a MOTORCYCLE!"

"Wow. Is Mr. Music Teacher old or young?"

"Old. Old, old, OLLLLLLD."

"He's old and he rides a motorcycle to school?"

"Yeah, he's like 42!"

"Ummm...your dad is 44, dear."

"Oh. My bad."

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My mom commented today that she thinks Kady is going to grow up to be a politician. Myself being a totally non-political person, I think that will require a miracle, so I asked Mom just what made her think that.

She said, "She just has this pizzazz that I think will make her a politician."

Now, last time I watched CSpan, I noticed very little pizzazz.

I'm just sayin'.

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We gave a baby shower for my cousin today.

One gift was a box full of nothing but gorgeous, adorable, utterly foo-foo headbands.

My uterus gave kind of a little twinge when I saw that box full of ruffles and bows and baby brain squeezing elastic.

Then it quit.

Whew.

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Today while the girls and I were baby showering, Paul took Sam fishing down at the creek where he used to fish when he was a kid.

Sam was proud that he caught four and his daddy only caught three.

If you've ever seen the movie Talladega Nights, you'll know why I nearly fell out of my chair laughing when he said, "Mom! I was all over those fish like a spider monkey!"

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Algebra still sucks.

Just in case you were wondering.

But I have discovered that the people that read my blog are some of the most amazing, helpful and truly sympathetic people on the planet.

Pat yourself on the back now.

Y'all rawk.

9 comments:

GoingLikeSixty.com said...

Thanks for sharing these great stories.

Anonymous said...

Hey, Diva. This is your friendly NEO Eng/Reading Lab support. Lisa Stovall wanted me to tell you that the Math Lab is in Shipley, not Cunningham. There is also help at Student Support Services in Ables somewhere on the first floor. We don't get out of our rooms much! And this is not letting me sign in except as Anonymous! Marsha Marsha Marsha

Queen Of Cheese said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Babs said...

You would not believe the long messages I have left here only to find them vanish when I try to publish. I went away cursing blogger.

Finally figured out it's because I have been out of it for too long and I had to sign-in with the "new" blogger. Damn, I sure wanted to blame someone else. Oh well, now that I know I can . . . I will more often!

It's great to be back to the Diva stories!

Miss Wisabus said...

God really does have a hand on her life because I NEVER END UP WITH THE 16.9 fl. oz. water bottles.

Maybe I should just go look.

Elizabeth said...

LOL...I love the uterus twinges. My kids always aks why I walk through the baby section at Walmart. Who can resist looking at those cute fluffly pink blankets?

cedric said...

For some reason, my wife and daughter have decided I'm a math genius. I keep trying to tell them I know shite about math. I was, however, helping my daughter with her Algebra. I kind of wondered aloud about how to do something, and she explained it to me. AND IT MADE SENSE! With one answer, my 14 year-old taught me more about Algebra than 4 years worth of Wyandotte Math classes. Of course, having a different instructor every year, each more incompetent than the last, didn't help. Cox, Clark, White, Tunnel, Spencer....All worthless. It took a 14 year-old!!

evensweeterafterdark said...

Umm, what ARE twist beads?

cedric said...

Wow. Crazy much?