I have 6 Brownies converging upon my house in a matter of minutes, so I'm typing fast. I have been a busy woman today and even though blogging should be at the bottom of the list, I still feel the pull of the internet while I go about my chores. It's like the moon pulling on the tides or something. Doesn't the moon affect the tides? I was much better at English than I ever was at science. Annnnnnnnnyway...
I really have nothing to say. I just like typing in this little box. It makes me happy. I like being happy. Happy is good.
If Mr. Diva doesn't find something to do besides play PS2, hype up the children and make messes in my kitchen I will murder him. I am not joking. I have no idea why he picks such obscure times to take his vacations. He just picks a week at random and takes time off. These 9 days would've SO been better spent later on in the year. I guess he just missed his Playstation. I am rolling my eyes as I type that, btw.
I think the Brownies should learn how to give pedicures tonight. And I will be a willing guinea pig.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Okay, so I'll whine
A few whines before I just flat-out fall asleep on the keyboard. Miss April did such a bang-up job of getting down on one knee to whine, I hate to disappoint her.
*The trip to Tulsa wasn't too awful bad, but we did drive with the windows down. 89 miles, 90 degree temps, no radio (couldn't hear it for the roaring wind) and no talking (couldn't hear it for the roaring wind). The trip home was better - we ran the AC till nearly Big Cabin and then I rolled the windows down again because I was literally watching the gas guage fall rapidly towards empty. Abby chattered like a chipmunk until I rolled the windows down again.
*The dentist kind of reprimanded me for not making Abby wear her headgear 14 hours a day. She's been wearing it 12. Geesh. He said those 2 hours a day can take her from a 40% chance of success to a 90% chance. Whatever. And what about that 10% - does he not know that I am a walking disaster? Just her sharing my DNA leaves her wide open to having something weird, freaky and out of the ordinary happen. She'll be the 10% that gets negative results or something. I personally think he just likes to torture kids with overbites. She cried. I fumed. The assistant then jumped on the bandwagon and gave us a "pep talk" all the way out of the office.
*I am tired. Just plain ol' tired.
*I have boogers again. Lots of boogers. My head feels all heavy and fishbowl-y. I wish I could just blow that snot outta there, but it seems to want to stay in my sinuses and brew up something yummy and infectious.
*I had big hair today. It was ginormous by the time we hit T-town. I was afraid I wouldn't get my head out of the van, it was so big. On a totally cool note, though, Anna gave me her sacred hair tips. I so cannot wait to try them out.
*Abby missed school from noon on today. Those three missed hours turned into 2 hours of tearful homework tonight. Oy. She was crying so hard at one point I was afraid the worksheet she was doing was going to rip it was so wet. That particular one was English. She just doesn't "get" English. That is a foreign concept to me because English gives me a big ol' case of the Happies. I saw her English book and the word "predicate" and nearly fell over from the delirious happiness that overtook me. I swear I heard angels singing and heavenly light shining down. Tonight she had to make a sentence with a compound subject - taking two sentences and combining the subjects with "and" or "or" to make a simpler sentence. I explained it. She then looked over the top of her glasses at me (My dad used to do it to me and I catch myself doing it to my kids - it's a very serious look) and said, "But WHY? Those were two perfectly good sentences." I wanted to say "It doesn't matter why we do it, my dear, but it makes my tummy tickle when I do it. Go on. Don't you want your tummy to tickle, too?" I didn't say that because I knew her mood was pretty volatile then and she would've either rolled her eyes and said, "You. Are such a dork. Mom." or she'd have burst into tears and her head would've exploded. So I just said, "To simplify writing." She then burst into tears.
*I have a headache.
*I want a tattoo.
*I miss Cousin Stacey.
*I want to be debt free.
*I want to be skinny.
*I want to sleep for a long, long, long time.
*I want a bigger kitchen.
*We need groceries but the only way to get them is to actually go to Wal*Mart and buy them. That sucks.
*Chandler told Sis today that my kids call him "weird". Chances are they do. They call me weird, too. They call each other weird. To us, weird isn't bad, it's kind of a term of endearment. Sort of. Maybe not, but it's certainly not bad. To us. But when you're an only child and don't have siblings to torture and be tortured by, I guess weird is bad. I am going to have to talk to my kids about that. *sigh* Why is parenting so hard? Just little things like my kids calling another kid weird and not meaning a thing by it just eats at me and drives me nuts - what if I'm really in all actuality a really bad parent? What if I'm raising little psychopaths? What if Abby never learns to make a compound sentence and what if Sam never gets over his reading frustrations and what if Kady stages a coup at the school and . . . oh my gosh, tonight is not a good mommy night for me.
*The trip to Tulsa wasn't too awful bad, but we did drive with the windows down. 89 miles, 90 degree temps, no radio (couldn't hear it for the roaring wind) and no talking (couldn't hear it for the roaring wind). The trip home was better - we ran the AC till nearly Big Cabin and then I rolled the windows down again because I was literally watching the gas guage fall rapidly towards empty. Abby chattered like a chipmunk until I rolled the windows down again.
*The dentist kind of reprimanded me for not making Abby wear her headgear 14 hours a day. She's been wearing it 12. Geesh. He said those 2 hours a day can take her from a 40% chance of success to a 90% chance. Whatever. And what about that 10% - does he not know that I am a walking disaster? Just her sharing my DNA leaves her wide open to having something weird, freaky and out of the ordinary happen. She'll be the 10% that gets negative results or something. I personally think he just likes to torture kids with overbites. She cried. I fumed. The assistant then jumped on the bandwagon and gave us a "pep talk" all the way out of the office.
*I am tired. Just plain ol' tired.
*I have boogers again. Lots of boogers. My head feels all heavy and fishbowl-y. I wish I could just blow that snot outta there, but it seems to want to stay in my sinuses and brew up something yummy and infectious.
*I had big hair today. It was ginormous by the time we hit T-town. I was afraid I wouldn't get my head out of the van, it was so big. On a totally cool note, though, Anna gave me her sacred hair tips. I so cannot wait to try them out.
*Abby missed school from noon on today. Those three missed hours turned into 2 hours of tearful homework tonight. Oy. She was crying so hard at one point I was afraid the worksheet she was doing was going to rip it was so wet. That particular one was English. She just doesn't "get" English. That is a foreign concept to me because English gives me a big ol' case of the Happies. I saw her English book and the word "predicate" and nearly fell over from the delirious happiness that overtook me. I swear I heard angels singing and heavenly light shining down. Tonight she had to make a sentence with a compound subject - taking two sentences and combining the subjects with "and" or "or" to make a simpler sentence. I explained it. She then looked over the top of her glasses at me (My dad used to do it to me and I catch myself doing it to my kids - it's a very serious look) and said, "But WHY? Those were two perfectly good sentences." I wanted to say "It doesn't matter why we do it, my dear, but it makes my tummy tickle when I do it. Go on. Don't you want your tummy to tickle, too?" I didn't say that because I knew her mood was pretty volatile then and she would've either rolled her eyes and said, "You. Are such a dork. Mom." or she'd have burst into tears and her head would've exploded. So I just said, "To simplify writing." She then burst into tears.
*I have a headache.
*I want a tattoo.
*I miss Cousin Stacey.
*I want to be debt free.
*I want to be skinny.
*I want to sleep for a long, long, long time.
*I want a bigger kitchen.
*We need groceries but the only way to get them is to actually go to Wal*Mart and buy them. That sucks.
*Chandler told Sis today that my kids call him "weird". Chances are they do. They call me weird, too. They call each other weird. To us, weird isn't bad, it's kind of a term of endearment. Sort of. Maybe not, but it's certainly not bad. To us. But when you're an only child and don't have siblings to torture and be tortured by, I guess weird is bad. I am going to have to talk to my kids about that. *sigh* Why is parenting so hard? Just little things like my kids calling another kid weird and not meaning a thing by it just eats at me and drives me nuts - what if I'm really in all actuality a really bad parent? What if I'm raising little psychopaths? What if Abby never learns to make a compound sentence and what if Sam never gets over his reading frustrations and what if Kady stages a coup at the school and . . . oh my gosh, tonight is not a good mommy night for me.
The hair! It is attacking!
Okay, so y'all pretty much know I'm a redneck, right? I mean, we've pretty well established that fact, correct? So when I start whining about my hair and the product I use, please don't tell me to go to the salon and buy the expensive stuff. Number one, I can't afford it. Yet. I'm working on that. Number two, I'm afraid a herd of wild redneck women would see me in a salon buying product and tar and feather me. We must buy our hair goo at Wal*Mart.
So I bought me some of that Pantene for curls stuff. It has amino acids in it. That sounds pretty scientific to me. Science can tame the wild beast that is naturally curly hair I'm told. And the conditioner says that it guarantees "up to 99% more curl definition in one day." Notice it says "up to". I'm thinking I got way closer to the end of the scale. Down like around oh mayyyyyybe 24.2%.
If you define curls as "big", "scary", "large", "reaching for lofty heights", "searching for the 80's" and just downright HUGE, then I have more curl definition. I got me some big hair today.
So I bought me some of that Pantene for curls stuff. It has amino acids in it. That sounds pretty scientific to me. Science can tame the wild beast that is naturally curly hair I'm told. And the conditioner says that it guarantees "up to 99% more curl definition in one day." Notice it says "up to". I'm thinking I got way closer to the end of the scale. Down like around oh mayyyyyybe 24.2%.
If you define curls as "big", "scary", "large", "reaching for lofty heights", "searching for the 80's" and just downright HUGE, then I have more curl definition. I got me some big hair today.
Whiney Wednesday
I am going to forego actually writing down specific whines today.
Just picture me lying in the floor, face down, kicking and pounding the floor with my fists, whining the most obnoxious whine you've ever heard.
That's pretty much going to sum it up for me today.
Just picture me lying in the floor, face down, kicking and pounding the floor with my fists, whining the most obnoxious whine you've ever heard.
That's pretty much going to sum it up for me today.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
The daily grind and a rant or two
It sure has felt like a Monday today. Bleh.
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Went to bed around midnight thirty last night. Alone. I curled up with Paul's pillow and fell asleep . He wandered in to bed around 3am. He tried to rub my butt, which is his way of saying "Hey baby, wanna get nekkid?" I think I broke three of his fingers.
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Poor Cute Big Baby cut a tooth over the long weekend. He's workin' on another because he's still not his usually happy self. Not cranky, just not giggly and stuff.
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Paul is on vacation until next Monday. God help me. Hillbilly Mom, I may be calling SBC to help me dig a shallow grave.
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Monday I start watching Cute Little Baby. I'm really excited about it!! I'm really hoping that taking care of all of these babies helps quench the continual ache in my uterus these days. That biological clock of mine isn't taking to me hitting the snooze button.
I was telling Mom that Monday would be his first day. She kind of did a mental roll-taking and then said, "So you'll have a nearly 4-year-old, a 3 1/2-year old, a not quite 1-year old and a 7-month old?" I laughed and jokingly said, "Yeah. And likely I will not have a shred of sanity left by Christmas either." She patted my arm and said, "I think you will do just fine. If anyone can handle all that, you can."
That really made my day.
----------------
Speaking of Mom and how great she is . . . Remember last week when I ranted and raved and cussed? And how I had broken an underwire in my bra? Well, my Suzy Homemaker mother took the good underwire out of another bra that I'd broken a long time ago and replaced the broken one. Now I can wear white shirts again. I've gone a week wearing nothing but dark shirts because I only had a black bra and a gray bra.
Mom rocks.
------------------
Tonight Paul went to the garage where the derby car is parked. I stopped by there when Sam was done at karate. He looked really frustrated when I pulled in. The car is wedged in the back corner of the lot, buried in weeds up to the axles. We knew it needed a starter, a gas tank and a support bar behind the seat. But upon looking at it we discovered that the front end needs to be pulled out as well. Plus, the car was used in a Tough Truck competition in the spring (Yes, I know it's a car. They're rednecks, what can I say.) and I guess there's a pretty good chance that the block is cracked. The starter is already going to cost us $50. If the block is cracked I am out of luck because we just flat don't have the money.
I'm thinking my mom has been talking to God and trashing my beloved derbies. Because it sure seems that He's really against me driving this year.
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I really don't want to go to Tulsa tomorrow. We haven't been running the AC in the van. Not like we've really gone too many places lately - I still had the half tank I griped about last Tuesday night. But on short jaunts we've just rolled the windows down. I'm thinking that cruising down the interstate at 80 mph isn't going to work with the windows down. Oh, we've done it before, but it's not pretty. Abby and I are both very hair obsessed. I'm thinking we're just going to run the AC, gas prices be danged. Put in $20 tonight. Gas was $2.94 a gallon. Yeesh. I got roughly a quarter tank.
-------------------
Sis is taking both babysitting kids tomorrow for the whole day. She's my substitute. I figured it'd be easier than me loading everyone up and getting them to her by 11, THEN taking off to the school to get Ab THEN going to Tulsa. Besides, she gets a full day's pay this way. So Kady was extremely thrilled that we were going to have a Momma Kady Day tomorrow. BUT now it seems that I am going to have to pay a visit to a first grade teacher during her planning period tomorrow morning.
Sam was a stellar reader last year in Kindergarten. Got his reading books way ahead of everyone else. He's not a genius, but he was a really strong reader last year. So imagine my absolute shock to find that he's been placed in the lowest reading group in the class - the remedial readers. Nuh uh. No way did my boy go from one of the top readers to remedial over the summer. I am SO not buying it. The day I found out she'd placed him in that group I hid my frustration as well as I could and then asked Sam to get his reading book for me. I had him read the first two stories in the book which he did FLAWLESSLY. Then I flipped to the back of the book and had him read that story - he missed two words. He is not a remedial reader. I'm not a teacher, but I have dealt with children the better part of my adult life. I know a thing or two.
Tonight in his folder was a note about AR - accelerated reader. They have to take an AR test each week and they pick out their AR book at the library. So this being the first I heard about it, I told him to show me his AR book. Number one, he totally didn't know it was an AR book, he thought he'd just picked out a regular ol ' library book. So I said, "No big. Just read it to me." He burst into tears. "But Mom, I've tried to read it all week and it's just. too. hard!" I said, "Oh come on now, you're a great reader! It can't be THAT hard!" He handed it to me - it's a third grade AR book. No wonder he was having trouble. I realize it's accelerated reader, but I think throwing a third grade book at a first grader who's been already labeled remedial is a bit much. Someone's not paying too much attention on library day.
He has cried many tears every week that school has been in over reading. He loved it last year, but this year it is eating his lunch. Obviously there's a problem. His attention span is wacked out and I know it's due to frustration. There are other concerns I've had for over a week now and was going to try and ride it all out till Parent/Teacher Conferences week after next, but this is ridiculous. I will be asking her for a conference tomorrow.
-------------------
---------------
Went to bed around midnight thirty last night. Alone. I curled up with Paul's pillow and fell asleep . He wandered in to bed around 3am. He tried to rub my butt, which is his way of saying "Hey baby, wanna get nekkid?" I think I broke three of his fingers.
--------------
Poor Cute Big Baby cut a tooth over the long weekend. He's workin' on another because he's still not his usually happy self. Not cranky, just not giggly and stuff.
--------------
Paul is on vacation until next Monday. God help me. Hillbilly Mom, I may be calling SBC to help me dig a shallow grave.
--------------
Monday I start watching Cute Little Baby. I'm really excited about it!! I'm really hoping that taking care of all of these babies helps quench the continual ache in my uterus these days. That biological clock of mine isn't taking to me hitting the snooze button.
I was telling Mom that Monday would be his first day. She kind of did a mental roll-taking and then said, "So you'll have a nearly 4-year-old, a 3 1/2-year old, a not quite 1-year old and a 7-month old?" I laughed and jokingly said, "Yeah. And likely I will not have a shred of sanity left by Christmas either." She patted my arm and said, "I think you will do just fine. If anyone can handle all that, you can."
That really made my day.
----------------
Speaking of Mom and how great she is . . . Remember last week when I ranted and raved and cussed? And how I had broken an underwire in my bra? Well, my Suzy Homemaker mother took the good underwire out of another bra that I'd broken a long time ago and replaced the broken one. Now I can wear white shirts again. I've gone a week wearing nothing but dark shirts because I only had a black bra and a gray bra.
Mom rocks.
------------------
Tonight Paul went to the garage where the derby car is parked. I stopped by there when Sam was done at karate. He looked really frustrated when I pulled in. The car is wedged in the back corner of the lot, buried in weeds up to the axles. We knew it needed a starter, a gas tank and a support bar behind the seat. But upon looking at it we discovered that the front end needs to be pulled out as well. Plus, the car was used in a Tough Truck competition in the spring (Yes, I know it's a car. They're rednecks, what can I say.) and I guess there's a pretty good chance that the block is cracked. The starter is already going to cost us $50. If the block is cracked I am out of luck because we just flat don't have the money.
I'm thinking my mom has been talking to God and trashing my beloved derbies. Because it sure seems that He's really against me driving this year.
-------------------
I really don't want to go to Tulsa tomorrow. We haven't been running the AC in the van. Not like we've really gone too many places lately - I still had the half tank I griped about last Tuesday night. But on short jaunts we've just rolled the windows down. I'm thinking that cruising down the interstate at 80 mph isn't going to work with the windows down. Oh, we've done it before, but it's not pretty. Abby and I are both very hair obsessed. I'm thinking we're just going to run the AC, gas prices be danged. Put in $20 tonight. Gas was $2.94 a gallon. Yeesh. I got roughly a quarter tank.
-------------------
Sis is taking both babysitting kids tomorrow for the whole day. She's my substitute. I figured it'd be easier than me loading everyone up and getting them to her by 11, THEN taking off to the school to get Ab THEN going to Tulsa. Besides, she gets a full day's pay this way. So Kady was extremely thrilled that we were going to have a Momma Kady Day tomorrow. BUT now it seems that I am going to have to pay a visit to a first grade teacher during her planning period tomorrow morning.
Sam was a stellar reader last year in Kindergarten. Got his reading books way ahead of everyone else. He's not a genius, but he was a really strong reader last year. So imagine my absolute shock to find that he's been placed in the lowest reading group in the class - the remedial readers. Nuh uh. No way did my boy go from one of the top readers to remedial over the summer. I am SO not buying it. The day I found out she'd placed him in that group I hid my frustration as well as I could and then asked Sam to get his reading book for me. I had him read the first two stories in the book which he did FLAWLESSLY. Then I flipped to the back of the book and had him read that story - he missed two words. He is not a remedial reader. I'm not a teacher, but I have dealt with children the better part of my adult life. I know a thing or two.
Tonight in his folder was a note about AR - accelerated reader. They have to take an AR test each week and they pick out their AR book at the library. So this being the first I heard about it, I told him to show me his AR book. Number one, he totally didn't know it was an AR book, he thought he'd just picked out a regular ol ' library book. So I said, "No big. Just read it to me." He burst into tears. "But Mom, I've tried to read it all week and it's just. too. hard!" I said, "Oh come on now, you're a great reader! It can't be THAT hard!" He handed it to me - it's a third grade AR book. No wonder he was having trouble. I realize it's accelerated reader, but I think throwing a third grade book at a first grader who's been already labeled remedial is a bit much. Someone's not paying too much attention on library day.
He has cried many tears every week that school has been in over reading. He loved it last year, but this year it is eating his lunch. Obviously there's a problem. His attention span is wacked out and I know it's due to frustration. There are other concerns I've had for over a week now and was going to try and ride it all out till Parent/Teacher Conferences week after next, but this is ridiculous. I will be asking her for a conference tomorrow.
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More dorkiness
Okay, I just felt the need to share more dorkiness.
This is what happens when I get bored. I post dorky pictures.
This first one is from when I was a Freshman. I was Band Queen that year. Yeah. Band geeks had queens. Obviously I was ecstatic about it given the squinty eyed, delirious smile on my face in this picture.
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I was in 11th grade here. I was drum majorette which meant that during marching season I lead the band on the field and in parades. During concert season I didn't do much, except at this particular graduation Mr. Medders didn't feel like directing and I got to. And look, we were in Bear Country! Roaaaaaarrrrrrrr.
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And finally, this is from the summer before my Senior year. We had had a foreign exchange student that year and I think she was getting ready to go home. We were probably having one last hurrah at a local museum/park thing. Tinne, the Belgian, is on the far left. Sis is next in her multi-colored OSU shirt. I'm next with some seriously messed up bangs. They make me think of Vanilla Ice for some reason. I loved that hippy smiley face shirt. I even had dog tags to go with. The guy on the right was my boyfriend, Brad. And to think I had a boyfriend, even with hair like that. Sis and I should've been hung for the outrageous fashion statements we had goin' on in this picture.
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Okay, that's it. I'm done. I'm tired, Paul shows no sign of turning off the PS2 and turning me on, so I'm going on to bed.
Happy Dorky Tuesday everyone!!
This is what happens when I get bored. I post dorky pictures.
This first one is from when I was a Freshman. I was Band Queen that year. Yeah. Band geeks had queens. Obviously I was ecstatic about it given the squinty eyed, delirious smile on my face in this picture.
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Ahh . . . Freshman graduation. Notice the bangs - that row curled back goes perfectly in front of my cap. I remember curling my hair with the cap on then securing it in place and wearing it to the school so that it would not get messed up. Bangs were very important back then.
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This is my best friend back then, DeLisa. We were inseparable back then. I sure do miss her. We live a whole 4 miles apart yet we never seem to find time to see each other. I will definitely have to call her after seeing all these dorky pictures! Sadly, both pair of underwear were mine - you know you're good friends when you can put her panties on your head. We were at an FHA convention. I think we were in 10th grade.
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Me and De again. Our friend, Stacie, had a slumber party in her parent's camper the summer before 10th grade. We thought we were mega cool. Look at my shirt. "Raisins in the sun"? I couldn't even get a real California Raisins shirt, I had a generic raisins shirt. Even back then I was cheap.
---------------------I was in 11th grade here. I was drum majorette which meant that during marching season I lead the band on the field and in parades. During concert season I didn't do much, except at this particular graduation Mr. Medders didn't feel like directing and I got to. And look, we were in Bear Country! Roaaaaaarrrrrrrr.
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Not only was a Band geek, but I was also a Speech/Drama geek. Or dork, however you want to look at it. This one is specially for Kevin who I have only recently been emailing back and forth after all these years. Kevin's the one coming in from the side to snatch away my precious "Green Teddy" or GT as we called him. I carried the stupid bear as a good luck charm to tournaments. And being the overly dramatic retards we were, we made up this whole story about him being kidnapped, complete with ransom notes and everything. Hey, it kept us entertained between rounds and out of the coach's hair.
------------------And finally, this is from the summer before my Senior year. We had had a foreign exchange student that year and I think she was getting ready to go home. We were probably having one last hurrah at a local museum/park thing. Tinne, the Belgian, is on the far left. Sis is next in her multi-colored OSU shirt. I'm next with some seriously messed up bangs. They make me think of Vanilla Ice for some reason. I loved that hippy smiley face shirt. I even had dog tags to go with. The guy on the right was my boyfriend, Brad. And to think I had a boyfriend, even with hair like that. Sis and I should've been hung for the outrageous fashion statements we had goin' on in this picture.
-------------------Okay, that's it. I'm done. I'm tired, Paul shows no sign of turning off the PS2 and turning me on, so I'm going on to bed.
Happy Dorky Tuesday everyone!!
Monday, September 05, 2005
Dorky Tuesday
Osbasso, the Grand Poobah of all thing Nekkid, has created a (he says) one-time Dorky Tuesday. Now, this is just my opinion, but if it gets half of the publicity that Half-Nekkid Thursday gets, we'll be sharing dorky pictures for many years to come.
I have so many more pictures of me at the height of my dork-dom, but tonight all I grabbed was the album from when I was 18. The picture was taken in 1991, just shortly after I graduated high school. I was actually coming out of the dorkiness by then, believe it or not.
So there you have it - Everyone's favorite redneck diva in her clogging dress. Yep. I was a dork.
I have so many more pictures of me at the height of my dork-dom, but tonight all I grabbed was the album from when I was 18. The picture was taken in 1991, just shortly after I graduated high school. I was actually coming out of the dorkiness by then, believe it or not.
It is the infamous clogging outfit. The picture doesn't show them, but we also wore red bloomers with lace on the rear-end. Like what you put on your baby when you dress 'em up at Easter - satin panties with lace on the hiney. In the pics I'm only wearing my Keds, but we wore clogging shoes to dance in. Of course, we didn't wear them until we actually got to a performance because clogging shoes are like souped-up tap shoes and make a whole lot of noise.
This next picture shows only a small amount of the flaring capabilities of the skirt. Oh yes, when we'd spin, that puppy'd flare straight out, making us actually thankful for the lacy bloomers.
So there you have it - Everyone's favorite redneck diva in her clogging dress. Yep. I was a dork.
And just for the record - Small Town Starlit had one, too. I doubt she'll share a picture with us, because most of the time she didn't clog willingly, but if I looked hard enough, dug deep enough, I could probably find a picture of her in one as well. BUT, being the nice cousin that I am, I will refrain from posting embarrassing pictures of her. Well . . . at least until this year's Christmas party. Because if she sings karaoke again, I can't be responsible for the pictures that will come of that.
Happy Tuesday everyone! If you decide to get dorky with us, post your pic and then let Os know in the comments!
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Be vewy vewy quiet - I'm watching cawtoons.
The kids and I settled in this afternoon to watch us some TV. Now, if it had just been my children here this would've been a relatively simple thing, watching TV. But my sister and my brother in law have some seriously WHACKED OUT opinions on children's TV, mainly cartoons.
Their kids can't watch SpongeBob. No SpongeBob. None.
I don't agree with their thinking, but they don't agree with mine. It's a "they raise their kids, I'll raise mine" kinda thing. We agree to disagree. But who doesn't let their kid watch SpongeBob? That's just wrong. A freakin' travesty if you ask me.
So when we were programming the dish box to automatically switch between cartoons we found that Nick was playing a buttload of the new cartoon, Catscratch, today. I personally love Catscratch. Not as much as SpongeBob, but really, is there anything better than SpongeBob? Maybe Garfield, but that might be pushing it. Well, my niece and nephew have been living at Mom's these last 6 months and Mom has 3 channels. They'd never seen Catscratch. They weren't sure if they could watch it. They also weren't sure of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
So I called Sis. I asked her about Avatar first. She asked what kind of cartoon was it. I explained that he's some kind of ancient mystic bender of air and he can well, bend air I guess. I dunno. She said, "It sounds okay to me. We just don't let them watch cartoons where like, eyeballs fly out of people's heads and people get squished and it's utter nonsense. Like SpongeBob." Right about the time she said "eyeballs fly out of people's heads" one of the cats on Catscratch pulled his tail and his feet, arms and eyeballs went inside him. I quickly averted my eyes from the television. I didn't even ask about Catscratch. Because I saw nothing. Nothing.
And besides, technically his eyeballs did not fly out of his head.
Her comment about eyeballs flying out and squishing and nonsense really struck me funny. How many times did Wyle E. Coyote fall off a cliff and get smashed onto the pavement? How many times was Bugs put in a pot and stewed up by ol' Taz? And Tweety, that was one sick motherfuckin' bird, doing mean things to poor ol' Sylvester. Marvin the Martian disintegrated Daffy with a ray gun I do believe. And Elmer and his wanton use of guns just promoted violence and a complete lack of disrespect for nature.
WHATEVER.
I let those kids watch Catscratch today. Then after that I let them watch The Little Rascals and when the bully said "Finders keepers, losers SUCK" all five kids said it with him. *shrugs* I also gave them chocolate cake at 9:00 tonight.
They're kids. It'll be soon enough that they have to make decisions regarding their own children's TV viewing so for now let 'em watch a few eyeballs pop out. Let 'em laugh hysterically when a stupid hungry coyote falls off yet another cliff. Let 'em watch Yosemite Sam shoot at Bugs and then when Bugs drinks water it pours out of him like a sieve.
Nonsense indeed.
Their kids can't watch SpongeBob. No SpongeBob. None.
I don't agree with their thinking, but they don't agree with mine. It's a "they raise their kids, I'll raise mine" kinda thing. We agree to disagree. But who doesn't let their kid watch SpongeBob? That's just wrong. A freakin' travesty if you ask me.
So when we were programming the dish box to automatically switch between cartoons we found that Nick was playing a buttload of the new cartoon, Catscratch, today. I personally love Catscratch. Not as much as SpongeBob, but really, is there anything better than SpongeBob? Maybe Garfield, but that might be pushing it. Well, my niece and nephew have been living at Mom's these last 6 months and Mom has 3 channels. They'd never seen Catscratch. They weren't sure if they could watch it. They also weren't sure of Avatar: The Last Airbender.
So I called Sis. I asked her about Avatar first. She asked what kind of cartoon was it. I explained that he's some kind of ancient mystic bender of air and he can well, bend air I guess. I dunno. She said, "It sounds okay to me. We just don't let them watch cartoons where like, eyeballs fly out of people's heads and people get squished and it's utter nonsense. Like SpongeBob." Right about the time she said "eyeballs fly out of people's heads" one of the cats on Catscratch pulled his tail and his feet, arms and eyeballs went inside him. I quickly averted my eyes from the television. I didn't even ask about Catscratch. Because I saw nothing. Nothing.
And besides, technically his eyeballs did not fly out of his head.
Her comment about eyeballs flying out and squishing and nonsense really struck me funny. How many times did Wyle E. Coyote fall off a cliff and get smashed onto the pavement? How many times was Bugs put in a pot and stewed up by ol' Taz? And Tweety, that was one sick motherfuckin' bird, doing mean things to poor ol' Sylvester. Marvin the Martian disintegrated Daffy with a ray gun I do believe. And Elmer and his wanton use of guns just promoted violence and a complete lack of disrespect for nature.
WHATEVER.
I let those kids watch Catscratch today. Then after that I let them watch The Little Rascals and when the bully said "Finders keepers, losers SUCK" all five kids said it with him. *shrugs* I also gave them chocolate cake at 9:00 tonight.
They're kids. It'll be soon enough that they have to make decisions regarding their own children's TV viewing so for now let 'em watch a few eyeballs pop out. Let 'em laugh hysterically when a stupid hungry coyote falls off yet another cliff. Let 'em watch Yosemite Sam shoot at Bugs and then when Bugs drinks water it pours out of him like a sieve.
Nonsense indeed.
Informative if nothing else
Yesterday on the way to Bub and Sis' farmette, Abby was picking through the mound of trash/junkmail/crap on the van floor. (Hey, I can only keep ONE thing clean at a time - right now it's the house because the baby eats things that are bad for him if I don't.) Well, she found one of those inserts that fall out of the Coupon Clipper - you know, the ones that show the pictures of missing children.
She said, "Mom, do you think this boy is still alive? Or do you think he's dead by now?"
I said, "Well, hon, it's really hard to say. I'd like to think that he's still alive, but I really have no idea."
"Well, it'd be really sad if someone killed him. He looks nice."
"Yes, it would be sad. But sometimes it happens, as awful as it is."
"Well here, let's just read about him. See if he sounds familiar to any of us."
I kind of smiled and said, "Okay, tell us about him."
She cleared her throat and started reading. Now keep in mind this child is in 3rd grade and is taking AR tests with 4th grade, 6 month books. She is a phenomenal reader, but she sometimes gets in a hurry and that's where things get funny.
"Okay, his name is Aaron Smith. He's five to six inches (translation: 5 foot 6 inches), a hunnerd and twenty uhlbs, his hair is blonde and he's been missing since October of 1998. If you have seen this child call one eight zero zero THE LOST....or visit double-u double-u double-u dot missing kids dot com. Ooh and here's the number to the Center for Missing and Exploded Children."
------------------------
The kids were discussing Disney characters today at lunch and somehow, this is where the conversation went-
TotOne: Tinkerbell is my daddy's girlfriend, ya know. (giggles hysterically)
Sam: How can Tinkerbell be your daddy's girlfriend? He's married.
TotTwo: Married or not, Daddy says he has a crush on Tinkerbell.
Abby: Well, Sam, for your information, he can get a divorce if he really loves Tinkerbell more than YaYa.
TotOne: Okay, okay, let me explain - Momma is his real, true girlfriend. Tinkerbell is just his ya know, other girlfriend. But Momma's the one that he kisses and stuff.
-------------------------------
Kady was annoying TotOne and TotOne got totally frustrated with her, threw her hands up inthe air in desperation and yelled, "Just. Stop. It! You are acting like such a MAN!"
------------------------------
Abby told TotTwo he could be the daddy when they played Family. He sighed and said, "I don't really wanna be the daddy. I hear that when you're the daddy all you ever do is mess with bills, bills, bills."
She said, "Mom, do you think this boy is still alive? Or do you think he's dead by now?"
I said, "Well, hon, it's really hard to say. I'd like to think that he's still alive, but I really have no idea."
"Well, it'd be really sad if someone killed him. He looks nice."
"Yes, it would be sad. But sometimes it happens, as awful as it is."
"Well here, let's just read about him. See if he sounds familiar to any of us."
I kind of smiled and said, "Okay, tell us about him."
She cleared her throat and started reading. Now keep in mind this child is in 3rd grade and is taking AR tests with 4th grade, 6 month books. She is a phenomenal reader, but she sometimes gets in a hurry and that's where things get funny.
"Okay, his name is Aaron Smith. He's five to six inches (translation: 5 foot 6 inches), a hunnerd and twenty uhlbs, his hair is blonde and he's been missing since October of 1998. If you have seen this child call one eight zero zero THE LOST....or visit double-u double-u double-u dot missing kids dot com. Ooh and here's the number to the Center for Missing and Exploded Children."
------------------------
The kids were discussing Disney characters today at lunch and somehow, this is where the conversation went-
TotOne: Tinkerbell is my daddy's girlfriend, ya know. (giggles hysterically)
Sam: How can Tinkerbell be your daddy's girlfriend? He's married.
TotTwo: Married or not, Daddy says he has a crush on Tinkerbell.
Abby: Well, Sam, for your information, he can get a divorce if he really loves Tinkerbell more than YaYa.
TotOne: Okay, okay, let me explain - Momma is his real, true girlfriend. Tinkerbell is just his ya know, other girlfriend. But Momma's the one that he kisses and stuff.
-------------------------------
Kady was annoying TotOne and TotOne got totally frustrated with her, threw her hands up inthe air in desperation and yelled, "Just. Stop. It! You are acting like such a MAN!"
------------------------------
Abby told TotTwo he could be the daddy when they played Family. He sighed and said, "I don't really wanna be the daddy. I hear that when you're the daddy all you ever do is mess with bills, bills, bills."
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'Pert Near Five Years
It's been nearly five years since my last post, and even that was a repost from my newspaper column. I think you can attribute it to wri...
