I grew up believing in Santa. I did. I had every intention of allowing my children the same joy and wonder of a Christmas with gifts magically appearing under the tree. Sometimes, however, our best laid plans become foiled. And so, at a very tender age, Joshua learned the truth. There was a Santa, and her name is Grandma.
He passed this knowledge to the younger sisters, who also discovered fairly quickly that Santa Grandma would give them just about any requested thing on their lists they wanted. Oh sure, sometimes there's a bit of negotiation, "Well, that's a mighty big thing you want, you know. You might not get anything else..." Santa Grandma has said quite often.
"I don't care, Grandma," one of the grand kids would say. "I really really really want this!"
Last Thursday, Ruth's elementary school held their Christmas concert. Joshua, the dutiful big brother he is, tagged along with me and Hannah, even though I had given him the opportunity to stay home. We walked down the aisle, found my parents, and sat down while The Boy wandered around socializing with his friends and former teachers. As the beginning of the concert drew near, he made his way to our row and plopped down into the seat next to his grandmother.
Since I am an understanding mother, I said, "You don't have to sit here if you don't want to. I don't mind if you sit with your friends."
"No, that's O.K." Josh replied while giving his grandmother a huge hug. "I want to sit next to the coolest Grandma in the world."
Yup. He knows who is the REAL Santa Claus.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Sneaky!
He walked into the door of 'some things looming' in his heavy winter coat, laptop strapped across his body, a bone weariness etched on his face. Poking his head into the Gallery, he called out a greeting to me and my father then made his way down the long narrow hallway to the back office.
A few minutes later, she came skipping down the stairs from the third floor. Guessing it was Jeremy who had arrived, Hannah called out several times down the two flights. "Daddy! DADDY! DADDY!" She ran down the hall and into the office to find Jeremy who had sat down into one of the small formal chairs reserved for our visitors. Vibrating with suppressed energy, she threw herself into his arms. "I MISSED YOU DADDY!" Hannah said, as if it had been days and weeks instead of mere hours since breakfast.
"I missed you too." Jeremy said.
They were almost eye to eye with her standing and him seated, so she said, "I wanna give you a KISS!" Too bad he was too tired to notice the ornery glint in her eye.
Leaning to the side so she could have better access to his cheek, she moved forward as if to kiss him. At the very last minute, Hannah licked her finger, and touched the inside of his ear before anyone could blink.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" yelped Jeremy as he shuddered and reached to grab her.
Nimble and quick, Hannah dodged Jeremy's seeking arms, and bolted down the hallway. After she reached a safe distance she hollered back triumphantly, "SCORE! HANNAH: 1 Daddy? Zeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrooooooooooooooo."
A few minutes later, she came skipping down the stairs from the third floor. Guessing it was Jeremy who had arrived, Hannah called out several times down the two flights. "Daddy! DADDY! DADDY!" She ran down the hall and into the office to find Jeremy who had sat down into one of the small formal chairs reserved for our visitors. Vibrating with suppressed energy, she threw herself into his arms. "I MISSED YOU DADDY!" Hannah said, as if it had been days and weeks instead of mere hours since breakfast.
"I missed you too." Jeremy said.
They were almost eye to eye with her standing and him seated, so she said, "I wanna give you a KISS!" Too bad he was too tired to notice the ornery glint in her eye.
Leaning to the side so she could have better access to his cheek, she moved forward as if to kiss him. At the very last minute, Hannah licked her finger, and touched the inside of his ear before anyone could blink.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" yelped Jeremy as he shuddered and reached to grab her.
Nimble and quick, Hannah dodged Jeremy's seeking arms, and bolted down the hallway. After she reached a safe distance she hollered back triumphantly, "SCORE! HANNAH: 1 Daddy? Zeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrooooooooooooooo."
Monday, December 13, 2010
Mooooooom!!!
I've discovered one of the best parts of having a teenager: multiple opportunities for causing embarrassment, or as I call it...payback time.
When he was 2, he threw a tantrum in the middle of the mall because he wanted to ride the Christmas train. I, with my belly full of baby, couldn't lift the 43 pound toddler from the floor because he had suddenly developed jello for bones and a 96 pound head. He also wailed like an ambulance siren racing to the scene of an accident. The mall was packed with people who gave me looks, some sympathetic "aww, he probably needs his nap" but more often than not, judgment, "She should really learn to control THAT CHILD."
"THAT CHILD" took candy from the drugstore and had it half opened and half eaten before I knew what he had done. "THAT CHILD" pitched a fit every time we were in the grocery store and caused me to leave an entire shopping cart full of groceries. "THAT CHILD" caused an elderly man to yell at him ("Quit Making such a racket. Not all of us wanna hear that, BOY") at the store. I walked out of more stores with "THAT CHILD" until, oh, four years ago because he either climbed the shelves, broke items , pitched a fit, ran through the aisles, flipped shopping carts, sang at the top of his lungs, turned innocuous items into drums, knocked people over... I couldn't take "THAT CHILD" out in public with out a scene, no matter what I did, or how I tried to prevent something from happening.
Now that my mere existence is cause for major embarrassment, I've discovered the pure joy of tormenting my fourteen year old son. Even the smallest, unexpected things cause him great grief. So, I look for every available opportunity to unsettle him: in front of his friends, his family, or when it's just the two of us. And whenever he has complained, I simply remind him about the many many times he was the cause of my public humiliation when he was smaller, and "Aren't you just so sorry now, kid?" He usually just rolls his eyes.
At about 2:45 this afternoon, I received a text message from Joshua requesting I pick him up, well, not exactly. "Chorale is canceled," he said, and I was to extrapolate from that brief communication that he now needed a ride. I could have been rotten and replied "So?" or "That's nice." But instead, I took pity, knowing how blustery cold it was today.
Pulling up to the school curb, I noticed The Boy didn't bother to wear his winter coat. Rather typical, as he is a teenager "Coats are embarrassing!" which, I suppose, gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "being cool." Josh jumped into the car, shut the door and said, "WOW it's FREEZING outside. I'm so cold!"
"Maybe if you wore your winter jacket..." I barely had the phrase out of my mouth when he groaned and said, "Not me. My face. My face was cold!"
"If you wore a scarf..."
He interrupted again, "How in the heck would a scarf help my face?!?"
"Well, you wrap it around your neck and pull it up over your mouth and your nose."
Joshua shot me a rather incredulous look, one that said, "Are you out of your mind?!?"
I laughed and said, "Oooh, I could make a scarf for you with eye holes. That would keep your face warm." He looked at me like I grew three heads so I continued, having great fun imagining such a contraption. "And then you'd look like a pirate, or a bandit, or something..."
"Mother!" He said, offended. "You're going to totally destroy me at school if you made me something like that! You might as well buy me a ski mask, as if I'd even wear that!!!!"
"Well, you're face would be warm..." I suggested.
"Don't you DARE make me a scarf with eye holes!"
I warmed up to the topic as I said, "And I could add a nose hole and a mouth hole, and then we can tie it around at the back of your head..."
Joshua sunk lower and lower in the car as we rode home. "I won't wear it. I would die. You're going to destroy me. There's no WAY you could get me to wear something like that."
I think I might have to take a trip to the dollar store to buy a few scarves, cut some holes in them, put them in boxes, and wrap them up for Christmas. Yup, it would be so worth the expression on his face when he unwrapped his 'gifts,' if only I could guarantee he remembered this conversation.
When he was 2, he threw a tantrum in the middle of the mall because he wanted to ride the Christmas train. I, with my belly full of baby, couldn't lift the 43 pound toddler from the floor because he had suddenly developed jello for bones and a 96 pound head. He also wailed like an ambulance siren racing to the scene of an accident. The mall was packed with people who gave me looks, some sympathetic "aww, he probably needs his nap" but more often than not, judgment, "She should really learn to control THAT CHILD."
"THAT CHILD" took candy from the drugstore and had it half opened and half eaten before I knew what he had done. "THAT CHILD" pitched a fit every time we were in the grocery store and caused me to leave an entire shopping cart full of groceries. "THAT CHILD" caused an elderly man to yell at him ("Quit Making such a racket. Not all of us wanna hear that, BOY") at the store. I walked out of more stores with "THAT CHILD" until, oh, four years ago because he either climbed the shelves, broke items , pitched a fit, ran through the aisles, flipped shopping carts, sang at the top of his lungs, turned innocuous items into drums, knocked people over... I couldn't take "THAT CHILD" out in public with out a scene, no matter what I did, or how I tried to prevent something from happening.
Now that my mere existence is cause for major embarrassment, I've discovered the pure joy of tormenting my fourteen year old son. Even the smallest, unexpected things cause him great grief. So, I look for every available opportunity to unsettle him: in front of his friends, his family, or when it's just the two of us. And whenever he has complained, I simply remind him about the many many times he was the cause of my public humiliation when he was smaller, and "Aren't you just so sorry now, kid?" He usually just rolls his eyes.
At about 2:45 this afternoon, I received a text message from Joshua requesting I pick him up, well, not exactly. "Chorale is canceled," he said, and I was to extrapolate from that brief communication that he now needed a ride. I could have been rotten and replied "So?" or "That's nice." But instead, I took pity, knowing how blustery cold it was today.
Pulling up to the school curb, I noticed The Boy didn't bother to wear his winter coat. Rather typical, as he is a teenager "Coats are embarrassing!" which, I suppose, gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "being cool." Josh jumped into the car, shut the door and said, "WOW it's FREEZING outside. I'm so cold!"
"Maybe if you wore your winter jacket..." I barely had the phrase out of my mouth when he groaned and said, "Not me. My face. My face was cold!"
"If you wore a scarf..."
He interrupted again, "How in the heck would a scarf help my face?!?"
"Well, you wrap it around your neck and pull it up over your mouth and your nose."
Joshua shot me a rather incredulous look, one that said, "Are you out of your mind?!?"
I laughed and said, "Oooh, I could make a scarf for you with eye holes. That would keep your face warm." He looked at me like I grew three heads so I continued, having great fun imagining such a contraption. "And then you'd look like a pirate, or a bandit, or something..."
"Mother!" He said, offended. "You're going to totally destroy me at school if you made me something like that! You might as well buy me a ski mask, as if I'd even wear that!!!!"
"Well, you're face would be warm..." I suggested.
"Don't you DARE make me a scarf with eye holes!"
I warmed up to the topic as I said, "And I could add a nose hole and a mouth hole, and then we can tie it around at the back of your head..."
Joshua sunk lower and lower in the car as we rode home. "I won't wear it. I would die. You're going to destroy me. There's no WAY you could get me to wear something like that."
I think I might have to take a trip to the dollar store to buy a few scarves, cut some holes in them, put them in boxes, and wrap them up for Christmas. Yup, it would be so worth the expression on his face when he unwrapped his 'gifts,' if only I could guarantee he remembered this conversation.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
G'Night!
Wednesday night passed into Thursday morning before we crawled up the stairs to our attic bedroom. Fatigue dragged at us, as we contemplated our stupidity at staying up so late on a work night.
Flopping into our king-sized bed, Jeremy pulled the covers over himself, burrowing down until only the top of his face was exposed.
"Comfy?" I asked, as I still stood by the edge of the bed.
"Yep!" he said.
"Ready?" I asked. Stupid question, since I know he falls asleep mid-flop and is usually completely unconscious when his head hits the pillow.
"Huh?" He said. Huh. He answered. Must only be half-asleep this time.
So I shut off the light throwing the room under a blanket of pitch black darkness. Apparently the street lamp that usually shines into our room wasn't working. Using my hands I located the hubby within the miles of bed, and amongst the many layers of covers. Too bad we were both too tired to enjoy the groping. Elbowing the sleeping bear next to me, I said, "Hey, you didn't kiss me goodnight, yet!" I could sense he rolled towards me, so I rolled towards him.
"Marco," He said.
"Polo," I said, and then laughed right before I planted a big one on his forehead.
At least, I hope it was his forehead.
Flopping into our king-sized bed, Jeremy pulled the covers over himself, burrowing down until only the top of his face was exposed.
"Comfy?" I asked, as I still stood by the edge of the bed.
"Yep!" he said.
"Ready?" I asked. Stupid question, since I know he falls asleep mid-flop and is usually completely unconscious when his head hits the pillow.
"Huh?" He said. Huh. He answered. Must only be half-asleep this time.
So I shut off the light throwing the room under a blanket of pitch black darkness. Apparently the street lamp that usually shines into our room wasn't working. Using my hands I located the hubby within the miles of bed, and amongst the many layers of covers. Too bad we were both too tired to enjoy the groping. Elbowing the sleeping bear next to me, I said, "Hey, you didn't kiss me goodnight, yet!" I could sense he rolled towards me, so I rolled towards him.
"Marco," He said.
"Polo," I said, and then laughed right before I planted a big one on his forehead.
At least, I hope it was his forehead.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Her what?
Walking into the office, Jeremy saw Hannah sitting at the computer staring at the screen, mouth moving, but no sound. Curious, he walked over to stand behind her to see what was on the screen. He asked, "What on earth are you doing?"
She pointed to a list of jokes she found on one of her kid-game sites and said, "Trying to memorize these for my comedy routine."
Oh boy.
She pointed to a list of jokes she found on one of her kid-game sites and said, "Trying to memorize these for my comedy routine."
Oh boy.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Smack-talk...
Via screen saver???
Joshua and Ruth discovered how to change the desktop screen saver to the 'text' option. About a week ago, I woke up, wandered downstairs, took my medicine, made my breakfast, sat down to read my email, and nearly spit my drink all over the monitor.
"Ruth poops her pants."
Knowing who the culprit was, I meant to say something to Joshua along the lines of being nice to his little sister, and how screen-insults were not appropriate. Unfortunately, I am so busy I could cry right now, so it just slipped my mind. Until the next morning when I read:
"Joshua wets the bed."
Shortly after that, her message was replaced with another, and yet another and still another, over the course of a week. After the third insult, I realized they weren't getting upset with each other (yet). We also discovered they thought Jeremy and I hadn't noticed their game. We had decided to allow it to continue, out of morbid curiosity, more than anything. And we've noticed a specific theme:
"Ruth squishes poop."
"Joshua eats turds."
"Ruth sits in crap."
"Joshua poops his pants."
"Ruth plays with anuses"
"Josh snorts Oz (Oswald's) turds"
While the delivery system is unique, I never did claim the insults to be creative. And I really don't get the obsession with feces...
Joshua and Ruth discovered how to change the desktop screen saver to the 'text' option. About a week ago, I woke up, wandered downstairs, took my medicine, made my breakfast, sat down to read my email, and nearly spit my drink all over the monitor.
"Ruth poops her pants."
Knowing who the culprit was, I meant to say something to Joshua along the lines of being nice to his little sister, and how screen-insults were not appropriate. Unfortunately, I am so busy I could cry right now, so it just slipped my mind. Until the next morning when I read:
"Joshua wets the bed."
Shortly after that, her message was replaced with another, and yet another and still another, over the course of a week. After the third insult, I realized they weren't getting upset with each other (yet). We also discovered they thought Jeremy and I hadn't noticed their game. We had decided to allow it to continue, out of morbid curiosity, more than anything. And we've noticed a specific theme:
"Ruth squishes poop."
"Joshua eats turds."
"Ruth sits in crap."
"Joshua poops his pants."
"Ruth plays with anuses"
"Josh snorts Oz (Oswald's) turds"
While the delivery system is unique, I never did claim the insults to be creative. And I really don't get the obsession with feces...
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Conversations with Hannah
She's been on a roll lately, and so, I've been posting snippets of conversation as my status on Facebook over the last few weeks. I decided to compile some of the better ones here, some with a little background explanation. I'll begin with our conversation last night:
Hannah: "How's this for a sentence using one of my spelling words. 'I might dominate all man-kind."
Me: "And what exactly is your spelling word?"
Hannah: "Might. I betcha you thought it was 'dominate' or 'mankind' didn't you?"
--------------------------------------------------
I found Hannah singing one morning last week at the top of the stairs with her arms spread out wide as if embracing the sky, "That's the joy of being smaaaaaaaaaalllllll!" Then she hopped down the stairs saying "Ribbit, Ribbit, Ribbit." Well, it isn't Rogers and Hammerstein, but I'm beginning to think her imagination is musical theater.
----------------------------------------------------
My father in-law can't leave a recipe alone. One of my earliest memories about dating my husband was the first time I met his parents. I had stayed past meal time, which was O.K. with them, and I wasn't expecting anything to eat. But my mother-in-law decided to offer me some left-overs of beans and rice. Upon opening the container, she noticed the addition of bacon to her recipe. "Peter! Why is there bacon in my beans?"
"I made it better," He replied.
Over the last 17 years since that moment, I've watched my father-in-law make foods 'better' much to the dismay of my mother-in-law. Usually making a meal 'better' involves adding bacon, extra butter, or frying it up, when it was already baked to begin with. Sometimes he adds other spices and ingredients, but in general, my father-in-law like heart-attack fatty and greasy foods.
The funny thing about kids, they notice things about their world that sometimes we adults observe, but don't put it all together, until a child makes a comment.
Hannah brought a recipe home from school for Turkish Delight. "Maybe I could make this with P-pop," she said. "No wait, he would try and make it" she paused and made quotation marks with her finger "bettteerrr."
I smiled at her in response.
"Well, you know P-pop," She said with a shrug. "He just wouldn't be able...to help himself."
------------------------------
Hannah: "Mama, how do you spell design?"
Me: "D-E-S-I-G-N"
Hannah: "Why on earth is there a G?"
Me: "I dunno. It's English. We have lots of weird spelled words"
Hannah: "Well, it's stupid."
--------------------------------
Hannah has been discovering herself through fashion, or rather, her lack there of. Unlike her older sister who really is a 'fashionista' and pulls together unlikely combinations to make them look amazing, with an artistic flair, Hannah often looks like an orphan, or a mini-bag lady. She really tries to imitate her sister, and yet can't quite pull it off. Sometimes I make her change before she walks out the door. Sometimes I don't.
A few weeks ago, she put together a very, um, 'interesting' combination of skirt, leggings, shirt, scarf, and I can't remember what all else. Topped off with bright red fuzzy boots that were hand-me-downs, Hannah's outfit was something to behold. Internally, I debated whether or not to make her change. It wasn't awful, just, uh, "colorful." I decided to let her go to school dressed in her get-up because, after all, there was really no harm in it. She was quite proud of her clothing choices. But I was curious to see if anyone would comment about her clothes at school.
"So," I asked Hannah. "Anyone at school like your outfit today?"
"YES!" She said enthusiastically. "I did! I liked my outfit A LOT!"
---------------------------------------
Of course, no Hannah post is complete without the chicken suit.
I came downstairs a few weeks ago, one Saturday morning. The kids had been awake for at least an hour, watching cartoons. Walking through the livingroom, I took in the scene. Ruth was at one end of the couch, sitting in her PJ's, buried under blankets, and totally zoned out. Hannah was on the other end of the couch...
Hannah: "How's this for a sentence using one of my spelling words. 'I might dominate all man-kind."
Me: "And what exactly is your spelling word?"
Hannah: "Might. I betcha you thought it was 'dominate' or 'mankind' didn't you?"
--------------------------------------------------
I found Hannah singing one morning last week at the top of the stairs with her arms spread out wide as if embracing the sky, "That's the joy of being smaaaaaaaaaalllllll!" Then she hopped down the stairs saying "Ribbit, Ribbit, Ribbit." Well, it isn't Rogers and Hammerstein, but I'm beginning to think her imagination is musical theater.
----------------------------------------------------
My father in-law can't leave a recipe alone. One of my earliest memories about dating my husband was the first time I met his parents. I had stayed past meal time, which was O.K. with them, and I wasn't expecting anything to eat. But my mother-in-law decided to offer me some left-overs of beans and rice. Upon opening the container, she noticed the addition of bacon to her recipe. "Peter! Why is there bacon in my beans?"
"I made it better," He replied.
Over the last 17 years since that moment, I've watched my father-in-law make foods 'better' much to the dismay of my mother-in-law. Usually making a meal 'better' involves adding bacon, extra butter, or frying it up, when it was already baked to begin with. Sometimes he adds other spices and ingredients, but in general, my father-in-law like heart-attack fatty and greasy foods.
The funny thing about kids, they notice things about their world that sometimes we adults observe, but don't put it all together, until a child makes a comment.
Hannah brought a recipe home from school for Turkish Delight. "Maybe I could make this with P-pop," she said. "No wait, he would try and make it" she paused and made quotation marks with her finger "bettteerrr."
I smiled at her in response.
"Well, you know P-pop," She said with a shrug. "He just wouldn't be able...to help himself."
------------------------------
Hannah: "Mama, how do you spell design?"
Me: "D-E-S-I-G-N"
Hannah: "Why on earth is there a G?"
Me: "I dunno. It's English. We have lots of weird spelled words"
Hannah: "Well, it's stupid."
--------------------------------
Hannah has been discovering herself through fashion, or rather, her lack there of. Unlike her older sister who really is a 'fashionista' and pulls together unlikely combinations to make them look amazing, with an artistic flair, Hannah often looks like an orphan, or a mini-bag lady. She really tries to imitate her sister, and yet can't quite pull it off. Sometimes I make her change before she walks out the door. Sometimes I don't.
A few weeks ago, she put together a very, um, 'interesting' combination of skirt, leggings, shirt, scarf, and I can't remember what all else. Topped off with bright red fuzzy boots that were hand-me-downs, Hannah's outfit was something to behold. Internally, I debated whether or not to make her change. It wasn't awful, just, uh, "colorful." I decided to let her go to school dressed in her get-up because, after all, there was really no harm in it. She was quite proud of her clothing choices. But I was curious to see if anyone would comment about her clothes at school.
"So," I asked Hannah. "Anyone at school like your outfit today?"
"YES!" She said enthusiastically. "I did! I liked my outfit A LOT!"
---------------------------------------
Of course, no Hannah post is complete without the chicken suit.
I came downstairs a few weeks ago, one Saturday morning. The kids had been awake for at least an hour, watching cartoons. Walking through the livingroom, I took in the scene. Ruth was at one end of the couch, sitting in her PJ's, buried under blankets, and totally zoned out. Hannah was on the other end of the couch...
Monday, November 15, 2010
Eavesdropping...
I was laying on the couch, with my eyes closed, waiting to die because I'm a wimp. Ok, sure, it's only 100.5 degree temperature, nothing major. But every single muscle in my body is aching, shaking and quaking.
Around 4:00 I attempted to nap despite the commotion The Boy always creates around himself. It's not enough to just do his after school chores, he has to make as much noise as possible while doing them. Pulling the pillow over my head, I buried deeper into the cushions of the couch, hoping to muffle the sound. Forgetting I was underneath the pile of blankets, the kids began to speak freely.
"Honestly," Ruth said. "There was this kid, and he followed me home on his bike. I think he's friends with Jake, who was out in the street playing football with these other kids."
"Which kids?" asked Josh
"I dunno," she said defensively, "Just some kids. Anyway, this kid followed me for awhile and said 'Hey there 2nd grader' so I just looked at him. I didn't give him the satisfaction. So he rode off back to Jake and the other guys, and left me alone. THEN he came back a few minutes later and said 'Hey, see the kid in green? He liiiikessss youuuuu.'" She imitated the kid's sing-songy voice. "So I said, 'Yeah, that's because I'm so beautiful, I'm smokin' hot.' and THEN he left me alone."
Oh brother.
Around 4:00 I attempted to nap despite the commotion The Boy always creates around himself. It's not enough to just do his after school chores, he has to make as much noise as possible while doing them. Pulling the pillow over my head, I buried deeper into the cushions of the couch, hoping to muffle the sound. Forgetting I was underneath the pile of blankets, the kids began to speak freely.
"Honestly," Ruth said. "There was this kid, and he followed me home on his bike. I think he's friends with Jake, who was out in the street playing football with these other kids."
"Which kids?" asked Josh
"I dunno," she said defensively, "Just some kids. Anyway, this kid followed me for awhile and said 'Hey there 2nd grader' so I just looked at him. I didn't give him the satisfaction. So he rode off back to Jake and the other guys, and left me alone. THEN he came back a few minutes later and said 'Hey, see the kid in green? He liiiikessss youuuuu.'" She imitated the kid's sing-songy voice. "So I said, 'Yeah, that's because I'm so beautiful, I'm smokin' hot.' and THEN he left me alone."
Oh brother.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Can I get a translator please?
It's a known fact that males and females communicate differently. The reality of this statement becomes more and more clear to me as the days go on.
Today Jeremy and Joshua were looking at Joshua's Facebook page and discussing his friend Josh's girlfriend. I was standing across the hall in the bathroom putting my make-up on. Ruth, ever fascinated by my morning ritual, was standing in the bathroom with me mesmerized by my reflection in the mirror, peppering me with questions. In the midst of her daily make-up quiz, we over-heard the guys talking.
"She looks older than 8th grade," Jeremy commented
"She's in 8th grade," came Joshua's reply.
I chimed in, "No, she looks like she's in 8th grade. I saw her pic on Facebook. Trust me, Ruth will look like that in 8th grade." Jeremy grimaced, not wanting to think of his baby girl all grown up.
"So, is she nice?" I asked Joshua
"Yeah, she's kinda quiet."
"I noticed on Facebook her friends aren't your friends. Does she hang with a good group?"
"Yeah, I know she's not part of my 'group' of friends"
"Yes, but is she a 'nice girl' even though she's not in your group?"
He stared at me with a non-comprehending blank expression on his face. "What do you mean?"
I said, "Well, your friends, so far, seem like a good bunch of kids. Is this girl in an equally nice bunch of kids? Or is she in a not-so-nice-group?"
He continued to look blank.
"I just wanted to know if you though this was an ok girl for your friend, Josh. Not you, the friend with whom you share a name and have been good friends for the last ten years."
"I know who you were talking about."
"Yes, I know you know which person. I want to know if his girlfriend is an "O.K. kind of girl" "
Joshua continued to look at me.
I turned to Ruth, "You know what I'm trying to ask, right?"
She smiled, knowing full well I was trying to find out if this was a girl I needed to warn the other-Joshua's mother about, or if this was going to be a nice safe Jr high, 2-week long relationship. You just don't know these days. "Here, you need to speak 'man.' Let me try to translate," Ruth said
"You speak 'man'?" I asked incredulously.
"Sure!"She walked across the hall and into his room and began to grunt like a caveman. Dropping her voice an octave, she continued to make neanderthal noises between words, "Is oogh Josh's ugh girlfriend ook ook ..." and I didn't hear the rest, because I was laughing too hard at her antics. Joshua doubled over holding his stomach laughing. "OOOHH! Yeah," he said once she was done. "She's a decent girl. You don't have to worry about it."
No, that's not true. I have a lot of other things to worry about now.
Today Jeremy and Joshua were looking at Joshua's Facebook page and discussing his friend Josh's girlfriend. I was standing across the hall in the bathroom putting my make-up on. Ruth, ever fascinated by my morning ritual, was standing in the bathroom with me mesmerized by my reflection in the mirror, peppering me with questions. In the midst of her daily make-up quiz, we over-heard the guys talking.
"She looks older than 8th grade," Jeremy commented
"She's in 8th grade," came Joshua's reply.
I chimed in, "No, she looks like she's in 8th grade. I saw her pic on Facebook. Trust me, Ruth will look like that in 8th grade." Jeremy grimaced, not wanting to think of his baby girl all grown up.
"So, is she nice?" I asked Joshua
"Yeah, she's kinda quiet."
"I noticed on Facebook her friends aren't your friends. Does she hang with a good group?"
"Yeah, I know she's not part of my 'group' of friends"
"Yes, but is she a 'nice girl' even though she's not in your group?"
He stared at me with a non-comprehending blank expression on his face. "What do you mean?"
I said, "Well, your friends, so far, seem like a good bunch of kids. Is this girl in an equally nice bunch of kids? Or is she in a not-so-nice-group?"
He continued to look blank.
"I just wanted to know if you though this was an ok girl for your friend, Josh. Not you, the friend with whom you share a name and have been good friends for the last ten years."
"I know who you were talking about."
"Yes, I know you know which person. I want to know if his girlfriend is an "O.K. kind of girl" "
Joshua continued to look at me.
I turned to Ruth, "You know what I'm trying to ask, right?"
She smiled, knowing full well I was trying to find out if this was a girl I needed to warn the other-Joshua's mother about, or if this was going to be a nice safe Jr high, 2-week long relationship. You just don't know these days. "Here, you need to speak 'man.' Let me try to translate," Ruth said
"You speak 'man'?" I asked incredulously.
"Sure!"She walked across the hall and into his room and began to grunt like a caveman. Dropping her voice an octave, she continued to make neanderthal noises between words, "Is oogh Josh's ugh girlfriend ook ook ..." and I didn't hear the rest, because I was laughing too hard at her antics. Joshua doubled over holding his stomach laughing. "OOOHH! Yeah," he said once she was done. "She's a decent girl. You don't have to worry about it."
No, that's not true. I have a lot of other things to worry about now.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Harry Potter Fever has hit this house
It's taken some time for my older two kids to catch up to the rest of the world. They, as a general rule, have not had the attention span for chapter books. Oh, they love to read, but it was never more than a short stories and such. For years, in vain, I've tried to get them interested in Harry Potter, thinking that the genre was something that would maintain the kids' interest. I wanted anything that might capture their attention long enough to complete a book more than 100 pages in length.
So, last year, I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone out-loud to my kids, complete with character voices and accents. It took us awhile, as my life is busy, and it seemed to go a chapter a week there for awhile, but they were hooked. Afterward, Joshua plowed through book two and three and this past summer, book 4, and stalled, getting caught up in the Eragon series, Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings, and a few others. My plan worked. He was finally reading.
School began and the kids began bringing books home from school, except for Hannah. She couldn't figure out what she wanted to read. One morning, on her way out the door to school, she said, "I need a book for Silent Sustained Reading! QUICK!"
I didn't think about her being eight years old and in the third grade. I just grabbed the first thing I could find on her brother's bookshelves: the second book of the Harry Potter Series. Within two weeks, she had it devoured and moved on to book three. Before I knew it, she was looking for book four. I pulled it off Joshua's shelf and handed it to her.
"Whoa!" She said. "THAT'S HUGE!'
"Yeah," I said, "And this is in paper back. Imagine what the hardcover looks like."
"I hope I can get through this," She said.
"I have faith in you," I said.
About a week ago, she finished book four. "Where's book five?" She asked.
"We haven't bought it yet," I said. "Maybe you could look for it at the school library?"
"What am I going to read for SSR?"
"How about Eragon? Josh seemed to like it." I said as I grabbed yet another book from the Library of Josh.
"Oooooh...kaaaaay," She said resigned.
Later that afternoon Hannah bolted through the back door triumphant. "THEY HAD BOOK FIVE AT THE LIBRARY! LOOK! The kids in my class are like 'are you really going to be able to finish that book?' and i was like "yeah, sure. No problem" and they were like 'That's a big book' and I was like 'That's cuz it's hard back. Book four was just as big' and they're like, "yeah but it's so heavy' and I was like..."
I had tuned her out a little bit, I'm ashamed to say, because I was in the middle of a task, so I uh-huhed and nodded as if I was paying attention. Eventually I turned around and looked at the book. Taking up her entire torso and as thick as two college text books put together, Harry Potter, book five looked like a gargantuan next to Hannah's dainty petite frame. "WOW," I said. That's some book!"
"I know!" Hannah said, eyes and face all aglow. "I'm going to start now!"
"You do that. I'm heading upstairs to work on the website, now. Ok?" I tousseled her hair as I leaned down to kiss her cheek. I watched her climb up on the couch and situate the gigantic book on her lap.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard a crash, bump, and a loud "OOOOWWW!! Ooohhh!!!!" "Are you ok?" I called downstairs.
Hannah answered me in a watery voice as she held back tears, "Yes. I'm ok. I just dropped Harry Potter on my foot."
Ah the perils of reading! Who knew it was such a hazardous activity?
School began and the kids began bringing books home from school, except for Hannah. She couldn't figure out what she wanted to read. One morning, on her way out the door to school, she said, "I need a book for Silent Sustained Reading! QUICK!"
I didn't think about her being eight years old and in the third grade. I just grabbed the first thing I could find on her brother's bookshelves: the second book of the Harry Potter Series. Within two weeks, she had it devoured and moved on to book three. Before I knew it, she was looking for book four. I pulled it off Joshua's shelf and handed it to her.
"Whoa!" She said. "THAT'S HUGE!'
"Yeah," I said, "And this is in paper back. Imagine what the hardcover looks like."
"I hope I can get through this," She said.
"I have faith in you," I said.
About a week ago, she finished book four. "Where's book five?" She asked.
"We haven't bought it yet," I said. "Maybe you could look for it at the school library?"
"What am I going to read for SSR?"
"How about Eragon? Josh seemed to like it." I said as I grabbed yet another book from the Library of Josh.
"Oooooh...kaaaaay," She said resigned.
Later that afternoon Hannah bolted through the back door triumphant. "THEY HAD BOOK FIVE AT THE LIBRARY! LOOK! The kids in my class are like 'are you really going to be able to finish that book?' and i was like "yeah, sure. No problem" and they were like 'That's a big book' and I was like 'That's cuz it's hard back. Book four was just as big' and they're like, "yeah but it's so heavy' and I was like..."
I had tuned her out a little bit, I'm ashamed to say, because I was in the middle of a task, so I uh-huhed and nodded as if I was paying attention. Eventually I turned around and looked at the book. Taking up her entire torso and as thick as two college text books put together, Harry Potter, book five looked like a gargantuan next to Hannah's dainty petite frame. "WOW," I said. That's some book!"
"I know!" Hannah said, eyes and face all aglow. "I'm going to start now!"
"You do that. I'm heading upstairs to work on the website, now. Ok?" I tousseled her hair as I leaned down to kiss her cheek. I watched her climb up on the couch and situate the gigantic book on her lap.
About fifteen minutes later, I heard a crash, bump, and a loud "OOOOWWW!! Ooohhh!!!!" "Are you ok?" I called downstairs.
Hannah answered me in a watery voice as she held back tears, "Yes. I'm ok. I just dropped Harry Potter on my foot."
Ah the perils of reading! Who knew it was such a hazardous activity?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Where have I been?
Buried. Absolutely buried.
And busy.
And crazy busy.
And even more crazy busy.
But I haven't stopped writing, because it's what I do to unwind. I've just moved my focus for a little while to a new blog, which is moving slowly. And with good reason.
It started with an innocent comment, a challenge, if you will. And ended up becoming a reality, or maybe a nightmare. I'm still not quite sure which.
I'm reluctantly "playing" an online-role playing game. He's "learning" how to crochet. So far, I'm winning the challenge...or am I? Maybe this has been his dastardly plan all along?
And for that reason, I will only play, if he crochets. Only fourteen entries thus far with many weeks between.
http://kneedlesandknives.blogspot.com/
And busy.
And crazy busy.
And even more crazy busy.
But I haven't stopped writing, because it's what I do to unwind. I've just moved my focus for a little while to a new blog, which is moving slowly. And with good reason.
It started with an innocent comment, a challenge, if you will. And ended up becoming a reality, or maybe a nightmare. I'm still not quite sure which.
I'm reluctantly "playing" an online-role playing game. He's "learning" how to crochet. So far, I'm winning the challenge...or am I? Maybe this has been his dastardly plan all along?
And for that reason, I will only play, if he crochets. Only fourteen entries thus far with many weeks between.
http://kneedlesandknives.blogspot.com/
Monday, July 19, 2010
For Ruth, he'll tolerate anything
I walked through the living room the other morning, as I am often wont to do, passing by Oswald's cage. A quick glance at the fuzz bunny out of the corner of my eye, my brain registered something was off. I stopped, quickly looked down at the rabbit, and still couldn't quite register what wasn't right.
Ohhhhh, he has a paper hat on! A PAPER HAT!? Oswald was laying in his cage, all stretched out and relaxed as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. "Hey Ruth!" I called out to Ruth who was sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, "Why is the rabbit wearing a paper hat? Is that a paper hat?"
"Yes," She said. "I made it for him."
"Um, Paper hats on rabbits, not a good idea," I said, lips pressed tight, shaking my head. "Take it off."
"But he looks so cuuuuuute," Ruthie said. "And look, I even made ear holes in it."
Ohhhhh, he has a paper hat on! A PAPER HAT!? Oswald was laying in his cage, all stretched out and relaxed as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. "Hey Ruth!" I called out to Ruth who was sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, "Why is the rabbit wearing a paper hat? Is that a paper hat?"
"Yes," She said. "I made it for him."
"Um, Paper hats on rabbits, not a good idea," I said, lips pressed tight, shaking my head. "Take it off."
"But he looks so cuuuuuute," Ruthie said. "And look, I even made ear holes in it."
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
He Got His Hair Cut Today...
...and it's a little shorter than he wanted even though it will grow back out and be nice and shaggy again.
We got back into the van after leaving the salon. As Josh buckled himself in, he said, "My posse is going to be so unhappy with me that I got my hair cut."
I knew it was all about the hair...
We got back into the van after leaving the salon. As Josh buckled himself in, he said, "My posse is going to be so unhappy with me that I got my hair cut."
I knew it was all about the hair...
Friday, April 09, 2010
In Which I Discover It's All About "The Hair"
I think he's adorably and delightfully baffled. He has no clue of his appeal, apparently, as he's just starting to realize girls don't have cooties. The girls seem to be flocking around him and he can't quite figure out why. I don't know what stratosphere of the junior high social ladder these girls occupy, whether they are the kind a guy would desire the attentions of or not. But he certainly doesn't seem to mind.
I started noticing the changes in his demeanor when he decided to leave his hair long. Being busy with the studio, it took me a couple of months to get him a hair cut. He had always worn it really short, and was miserable about how long his hair was getting. Daily I would get the "When are you getting my hair cut?" question put to me. One day, he came home and said, "I don't know why you always get my hair cut so short. I like it this way." I wanted to smack him. I'd been trying to get him to grow it out for about a year, and he fought me all the time. But what does Mom know? So why the sudden change of heart? A girl told him she liked his hair better that way.
During the musical, he hung out with the other girls in the play. He would show off for them, and they would demand he repeat his antics over and over again. "Do your old man voice, Josh. Do your swagger walk, Josh. Do your crocodile hunter accent, Josh." Joshua, like his father, is full of 'stupid human tricks.' They come up with these crazy impressions and personalities that amuse and delight small impromptu audiences. Before I knew it, they were texting each other, and calling him on his cell phone, constantly. As I can tell, thus far, he texts his friend, Joshua, and about five different girls, at least. I've lost track of their names.
Being extroverted, Joshua naturally enjoys all of the attention; however, up until recently, his crowd of followers have all been male. It's clear, he's not too sure what to do with all of these sudden female followers. As his mother, I'm almost shocked at how aggressive they are in gaining his attention.
The other night, as I wrote before, three of them showed up in my back yard after spring play auditions to find out why Joshua wasn't there. Like a backwards version of Romeo and Juliet, they flirted with him from down below, while he stuck his head out the second floor window. Eventually, I made him go downstairs, so as not to disturb the neighbors with their giggling and tittering, which was becoming quite loud the more Joshua flirted back with them. When he wants to, he can be all charm.
So, today he climbed in the car, and seemed a little disgruntled and mildly exasperated. "Now I have a different group of girls asking me to do stuff." He said, as if he can't figure out why he's being the focus of so much unasked for female attention, and uncertain as to whether or not he still liked it.
"Stuff?"
"You know, like, 'Do you're old-man voice, Josh' They keep asking me to do my old man voice."
"Who is it this time?"
"Oh Hannah...and just other girls. Just not the same girls."
I started to ask which Hannah, as there are two in his class. Instead I chose to say, "Oh, I see." I dropped it, as he seemed disinclined to say anymore, thinking, I'd just bet there's a bunch of other guys wishing they had his problem.
I've heard of Dad's threatening to buy a shot gun, or a big baseball bat to discourage unworthy suitors for their daughters. What weapon of choice does a mom have to fend off all the girls from her son?
I started noticing the changes in his demeanor when he decided to leave his hair long. Being busy with the studio, it took me a couple of months to get him a hair cut. He had always worn it really short, and was miserable about how long his hair was getting. Daily I would get the "When are you getting my hair cut?" question put to me. One day, he came home and said, "I don't know why you always get my hair cut so short. I like it this way." I wanted to smack him. I'd been trying to get him to grow it out for about a year, and he fought me all the time. But what does Mom know? So why the sudden change of heart? A girl told him she liked his hair better that way.
During the musical, he hung out with the other girls in the play. He would show off for them, and they would demand he repeat his antics over and over again. "Do your old man voice, Josh. Do your swagger walk, Josh. Do your crocodile hunter accent, Josh." Joshua, like his father, is full of 'stupid human tricks.' They come up with these crazy impressions and personalities that amuse and delight small impromptu audiences. Before I knew it, they were texting each other, and calling him on his cell phone, constantly. As I can tell, thus far, he texts his friend, Joshua, and about five different girls, at least. I've lost track of their names.
Being extroverted, Joshua naturally enjoys all of the attention; however, up until recently, his crowd of followers have all been male. It's clear, he's not too sure what to do with all of these sudden female followers. As his mother, I'm almost shocked at how aggressive they are in gaining his attention.
The other night, as I wrote before, three of them showed up in my back yard after spring play auditions to find out why Joshua wasn't there. Like a backwards version of Romeo and Juliet, they flirted with him from down below, while he stuck his head out the second floor window. Eventually, I made him go downstairs, so as not to disturb the neighbors with their giggling and tittering, which was becoming quite loud the more Joshua flirted back with them. When he wants to, he can be all charm.
So, today he climbed in the car, and seemed a little disgruntled and mildly exasperated. "Now I have a different group of girls asking me to do stuff." He said, as if he can't figure out why he's being the focus of so much unasked for female attention, and uncertain as to whether or not he still liked it.
"Stuff?"
"You know, like, 'Do you're old-man voice, Josh' They keep asking me to do my old man voice."
"Who is it this time?"
"Oh Hannah...and just other girls. Just not the same girls."
I started to ask which Hannah, as there are two in his class. Instead I chose to say, "Oh, I see." I dropped it, as he seemed disinclined to say anymore, thinking, I'd just bet there's a bunch of other guys wishing they had his problem.
I've heard of Dad's threatening to buy a shot gun, or a big baseball bat to discourage unworthy suitors for their daughters. What weapon of choice does a mom have to fend off all the girls from her son?
Saturday, April 03, 2010
He Might Like Girls, But Not Enough To Have His Video Game Interrupted
Joshua has a flock of admirers. Daily, several girls from his class text him, call him, surround him, and flirt with him, constantly vying for his attention. Of course he eats up the attention, showing off, and strutting around like male members of the species do, when impressing females. But he has his standards. No one, but no one, can compete with Lord of the Rings Online.
Today, his cell phone rang and rang and rang. Finally he answered it, "What?! Marilyn...I'm in the middle of something really important. I'm playing this game, and I'm dying. I can't pause to talk to you."
A few minutes later, it rang again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, realizing she was getting no where talking to Joshua's voice mail, Marilyn, decided to call the land line. Jeremy answered. Trying to keep the laughter and mockery out of his voice, he repeated Josh's words, "I'm sorry, Marilyn, Joshua is REALLY busy. He's playing a game and he's dying. He just can't pause."
Later this evening, Jeremy, unable to contain his laughter any longer told me this story.
"Man, he is SO hosing his future chances at dating some of these girls," I said. "He might as well stamp a huge sign on his forehead "NERD!" or "GEEK!" now and get it over with. I might need to instruct him on the whole 'Girls are more important than Video Games" just in case. Because when he finally does figure that out...it might be too late by then."
Today, his cell phone rang and rang and rang. Finally he answered it, "What?! Marilyn...I'm in the middle of something really important. I'm playing this game, and I'm dying. I can't pause to talk to you."
A few minutes later, it rang again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, realizing she was getting no where talking to Joshua's voice mail, Marilyn, decided to call the land line. Jeremy answered. Trying to keep the laughter and mockery out of his voice, he repeated Josh's words, "I'm sorry, Marilyn, Joshua is REALLY busy. He's playing a game and he's dying. He just can't pause."
Later this evening, Jeremy, unable to contain his laughter any longer told me this story.
"Man, he is SO hosing his future chances at dating some of these girls," I said. "He might as well stamp a huge sign on his forehead "NERD!" or "GEEK!" now and get it over with. I might need to instruct him on the whole 'Girls are more important than Video Games" just in case. Because when he finally does figure that out...it might be too late by then."
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Last Night I Got a Glimpse of My Future
"Cole asked me to the fifth and sixth grade dance," Ruthie announced yesterday after dinner. The fifth and sixth grade dance is a bit of a joke. It's loud music, and packs of ten through twelve year olds roaming around the cafeteria, stopping once and awhile to graze at the food table. About five to ten people actually dance in a group. The boys usually stay on one half of the room, the girls to the other. Being 'asked' to the dance, well, I wasn't too worried...yet. It wasn't as if I was going to let her actually get picked up at our front door for the dance. Meeting at the cafeteria door? Sure. If that's being 'asked' to the dance, well, I can't argue about that.
"Who's Cole? What is he like? Is he good enough for my little girl?" Jeremy started rapid fire questioning with in his deep, "I-sound-like-a-radio-announcer," voice. It's the same voice he used to use whenever Joshua asks a gazillion questions "why why why?" After a bit, Jeremy will use his deep voice and say "Well you see son, because of the earths gravitational pull..." It usually shuts up the "Why" questions pretty quickly.
Jeremy continued, "Will he come to the door in a suit and tie? Will he be chivalrous to you? Will he open doors? Will he hold out chairs? Will he keep his hands to himself?"
Ruthie giggled, thinking he was joking. I kind of suspected he was beginning to set up future expectations under the guise of humor, for when it did matter.
"Daaaaaadddddddddyyyyyyyyyy," Ruthie drawled out, exasperated. "We're just meeting at the dance, and he's escorting me in."
"What do you mean by escorting? Do you even know what the word means? Maybe I should show up and talk to him."
Joshua, who was washing dishes, was thoroughly enjoying the exchange. "Maybe," he said, stirring up trouble, "Maybe you should chaperon, Dad."
"Maybe I should," said Jeremy.
"Why would you want to chaperon?" Ruthie said.
"So I can keep my eye on this Cole," Jeremy said, scrunching up his face and bulging out one eye, while raising his eye brow. He continued to look at her, and began to scratch his chin, as in deep thought. "Hmmmm...Maybe I should make up some rules for this dance."
"Yeah," said Josh, chiming in."Strict And Un-followable Rules." He changed his voice to sound like the wicked witch of the west, "You both shall remain ten feet away from each other at all times when you dance..."
Ruthie stomped her foot on the floor, "Guuuuuyssss! Stooooop it." She mock whined, attempting not to giggle again. I peeked into the kitchen, there was a huge smile on her face. She was loving the attention...for now. I'm not so sure she'll like it when she's sixteen and the male members of the family actual mean these words.
"Yup," said Jeremy. "I think I'm gonna be a chaperon. Make sure this Cole is good enough for my little girl...Maybe, I'll wear a tuxedo..."
"Daddy, NO! You'll embarrass me!"
"Hmm, maybe I could wear a tuxedo and a silly hat..."
"Daddy, you wouldn't would you?"
"Maybe I'll wear a tuxedo, a silly hat, and DANCE in the middle of the floor...maybe a silly dance..."
"Daddy! You're just joking, right?"
"I don't know...am I?"
"Daddy, please don't."
Later he asked me, "Do you think I was wrong to tease her like that? Do you think I picked on her too much?'
"Nah," I said. "She'll be lucky if this Cole even says two words to her all night at the dance. Besides, It's your job. Might as well set the expectations up now. Good job keeping it light and fluffy when it doesn't really matter. Because it will matter later on..."
"Who's Cole? What is he like? Is he good enough for my little girl?" Jeremy started rapid fire questioning with in his deep, "I-sound-like-a-radio-announcer," voice. It's the same voice he used to use whenever Joshua asks a gazillion questions "why why why?" After a bit, Jeremy will use his deep voice and say "Well you see son, because of the earths gravitational pull..." It usually shuts up the "Why" questions pretty quickly.
Jeremy continued, "Will he come to the door in a suit and tie? Will he be chivalrous to you? Will he open doors? Will he hold out chairs? Will he keep his hands to himself?"
Ruthie giggled, thinking he was joking. I kind of suspected he was beginning to set up future expectations under the guise of humor, for when it did matter.
"Daaaaaadddddddddyyyyyyyyyy," Ruthie drawled out, exasperated. "We're just meeting at the dance, and he's escorting me in."
"What do you mean by escorting? Do you even know what the word means? Maybe I should show up and talk to him."
Joshua, who was washing dishes, was thoroughly enjoying the exchange. "Maybe," he said, stirring up trouble, "Maybe you should chaperon, Dad."
"Maybe I should," said Jeremy.
"Why would you want to chaperon?" Ruthie said.
"So I can keep my eye on this Cole," Jeremy said, scrunching up his face and bulging out one eye, while raising his eye brow. He continued to look at her, and began to scratch his chin, as in deep thought. "Hmmmm...Maybe I should make up some rules for this dance."
"Yeah," said Josh, chiming in."Strict And Un-followable Rules." He changed his voice to sound like the wicked witch of the west, "You both shall remain ten feet away from each other at all times when you dance..."
Ruthie stomped her foot on the floor, "Guuuuuyssss! Stooooop it." She mock whined, attempting not to giggle again. I peeked into the kitchen, there was a huge smile on her face. She was loving the attention...for now. I'm not so sure she'll like it when she's sixteen and the male members of the family actual mean these words.
"Yup," said Jeremy. "I think I'm gonna be a chaperon. Make sure this Cole is good enough for my little girl...Maybe, I'll wear a tuxedo..."
"Daddy, NO! You'll embarrass me!"
"Hmm, maybe I could wear a tuxedo and a silly hat..."
"Daddy, you wouldn't would you?"
"Maybe I'll wear a tuxedo, a silly hat, and DANCE in the middle of the floor...maybe a silly dance..."
"Daddy! You're just joking, right?"
"I don't know...am I?"
"Daddy, please don't."
Later he asked me, "Do you think I was wrong to tease her like that? Do you think I picked on her too much?'
"Nah," I said. "She'll be lucky if this Cole even says two words to her all night at the dance. Besides, It's your job. Might as well set the expectations up now. Good job keeping it light and fluffy when it doesn't really matter. Because it will matter later on..."
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
It's such a rare sight! It only occurs once every 10 years!
The Boy has two modes: On and Off. In order to be put into the "off" mode, a large amount of energy is expended nightly. Endless drinks, forgotten medicine, itchy skin...the excuses are endless. And if he's not looking for reasons to be awake, he'll sing, talk, or whistle to himself, until one of us threatens to muffle him with his pillow...permanently.
When he was very small, he used to pound his head into the mattress as he wound down for the night. We'd hear "pomf pomf pomf pomf pomf pomf" until all of a sudden it would be completely silent. "He doesn't fall asleep," Jeremy said to me, "He knocks himself out." I have never seen Joshua quietly drift off to dream land. It's always an arduous journey.
So anytime we'd catch Joshua voluntarily asleep during the day, the camera came out to capture the momentous occasion. Actually, it's only happened twice in his entire span of life.
I have the pictures to prove it.
Joshua, age 3:
Joshua, age 13:
Take a look folks, because we won't see this again until he's twenty-three. And hopefully, it won't be because he's passed out at some frat party...
When he was very small, he used to pound his head into the mattress as he wound down for the night. We'd hear "pomf pomf pomf pomf pomf pomf" until all of a sudden it would be completely silent. "He doesn't fall asleep," Jeremy said to me, "He knocks himself out." I have never seen Joshua quietly drift off to dream land. It's always an arduous journey.
So anytime we'd catch Joshua voluntarily asleep during the day, the camera came out to capture the momentous occasion. Actually, it's only happened twice in his entire span of life.
I have the pictures to prove it.
Joshua, age 3:
Joshua, age 13:
Take a look folks, because we won't see this again until he's twenty-three. And hopefully, it won't be because he's passed out at some frat party...
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
"Mel, Did You Buy Something On Joshua's Account?"
Jeremy called to me from the kitchen. He had his laptop set up on the table, and was perusing his email while eating dinner. He worked late, and we had already eaten without him.
"What?" I called from the living room, too tired and sore to get up from my cozy spot on the couch.
"You know how all of Joshua's purchases go to my email? Well, did you accidentally buy something from his account?"
I have an iPod touch, and I use the kindle reader to buy books through Amazon.com, so I was puzzling how on earth The Boy had an Amazon account. "Amazon? Or iTunes?" I hollered back.
Ignoring my question he said, "It says here someone bought, 'Voyage to Temptation' and 'Duchess of Mandalore' are these books of yours? They sound like romance novels."
"Um I don't think so," I said. "I can't imagine ever buying a book called 'Voyage to Temptation'." Now my mind was reeling. Was someone using our account to buy smut? "How much did those cost?"
"$2.00 a piece."
Two dollars, two dollars. I didn't know any books that cost two dollars, even on kindle. Oh there are a few, to be sure, and some that are even free, but I found out quickly that those were not only poorly written but often along the lines of what we were imagining 'Voyage to Temptation' was all about. "And you said they're on Joshua's account? Amazon?"
"No, iTunes."
Light dawning, I remembered The Boy saying something about watching some episodes on his laptop this afternoon. Now I was wondering what on earth he was watching. "Well, Josh was saying he was watching something on his laptop this afternoon through iTunes, but what on earth could he be watching?" Visions of our son caught up in some soap-opera like drama were floating through my mind.
"OOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" Jeremy said and started to laugh, "I just googled it. Bwaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! They're hahahahah gasp They're episodes for that hahahahahahaha cartoon he likes to watch...Star Wars Clone Wars."
"WHAT!?"
Pushing the chair back from the table, he came around the corner and looked at me. "They're episodes from Star Wars Clone Wars. What on earth are they thinking naming their episodes things like 'Voyage to Temptation'? I swear, they sounded like bad romance novels." We laughed again, mildly relieved, mostly because a conundrum had been solved.
He came home later, and Jeremy told The Boy what we thought. He looked incredulous. "What?!?!? They're episodes from Star Wars Clone Wars!" He protested, feeling his manhood in question.
"We know. We know. We were just a little worried there, kid."
Josh started to laugh. "How could you have thought that?"
"Well, we weren't sure what to think," I added. "But sure made for an interesting puzzle for the night."
"What?" I called from the living room, too tired and sore to get up from my cozy spot on the couch.
"You know how all of Joshua's purchases go to my email? Well, did you accidentally buy something from his account?"
I have an iPod touch, and I use the kindle reader to buy books through Amazon.com, so I was puzzling how on earth The Boy had an Amazon account. "Amazon? Or iTunes?" I hollered back.
Ignoring my question he said, "It says here someone bought, 'Voyage to Temptation' and 'Duchess of Mandalore' are these books of yours? They sound like romance novels."
"Um I don't think so," I said. "I can't imagine ever buying a book called 'Voyage to Temptation'." Now my mind was reeling. Was someone using our account to buy smut? "How much did those cost?"
"$2.00 a piece."
Two dollars, two dollars. I didn't know any books that cost two dollars, even on kindle. Oh there are a few, to be sure, and some that are even free, but I found out quickly that those were not only poorly written but often along the lines of what we were imagining 'Voyage to Temptation' was all about. "And you said they're on Joshua's account? Amazon?"
"No, iTunes."
Light dawning, I remembered The Boy saying something about watching some episodes on his laptop this afternoon. Now I was wondering what on earth he was watching. "Well, Josh was saying he was watching something on his laptop this afternoon through iTunes, but what on earth could he be watching?" Visions of our son caught up in some soap-opera like drama were floating through my mind.
"OOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" Jeremy said and started to laugh, "I just googled it. Bwaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! They're hahahahah gasp They're episodes for that hahahahahahaha cartoon he likes to watch...Star Wars Clone Wars."
"WHAT!?"
Pushing the chair back from the table, he came around the corner and looked at me. "They're episodes from Star Wars Clone Wars. What on earth are they thinking naming their episodes things like 'Voyage to Temptation'? I swear, they sounded like bad romance novels." We laughed again, mildly relieved, mostly because a conundrum had been solved.
He came home later, and Jeremy told The Boy what we thought. He looked incredulous. "What?!?!? They're episodes from Star Wars Clone Wars!" He protested, feeling his manhood in question.
"We know. We know. We were just a little worried there, kid."
Josh started to laugh. "How could you have thought that?"
"Well, we weren't sure what to think," I added. "But sure made for an interesting puzzle for the night."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
In Which I Indulge My Daughters By Watching Ice Dancing
I enjoy the winter Olympics. I like watching the bob-sled, the luge, the skiing, and especially the snowboarding half-pipe. I even like curling, of all things. But I have never ever ever been able to get excited or enthusiastic about ice skating, in any of it's forms. Sure, I can appreciate the sport, the athleticism and coordination that is required to perform complex movements to music on a slippery, hard surface. After all, I can barely make it around the loop without falling on my butt. However, watching skaters on t.v. in crazy costumes 'dance' to music isn't exactly my idea of a good time.
The girls, however, love, love, love it. For the last few nights, they've used their big, pleading, brown eyes to weaken my defenses. "We can snuggle on the couch, under a big fluffy blanket and watch Ice Dancing. Doesn't that sound wonderful? Ohhh! Please please please please please?" Ruthie and Hannah said, stumbling over each others' words.
"Oh, ok. But we have to record it, because you won't be able to be up that late, and then we can finish watching it tomorrow." Foolish foolish words. For the last three days I've been watching Ice Dancing. Tomorrow I will still be watching Ice Dancing. And after that, it will be figure skating. Oh joy. Will wonders never cease.
Ruthie is the self-appointed fashion critic for Ice Dancing costuming. She also feels a need to determine whether a competitor is attractive or not. "Her outfit is pretty, and she's actually attractive."
"BUT HER UNDERWEAR IS SHOWING!" Hannah exclaimed loudly as the guy flipped the girl around his shoulders.
"That's not her underwear, it's her leotard," I said.
"Doesn't matter if you see her leotard or not. It's just a leotard," Ruth stated, as if she knew all there was to know about leotards and ice dancing.
We continued watching pair after pair when my bloodthirsty youngest said, "Aren't they going to show any stumbles?"
"No Hannah, this is live. If they were going to show stumbles, it would mean it just happened right now," Ruth explained.
The next few minutes passed silently with the occasional "Wow, they're good," or "Whoa" passing through their lips, until the Ice Dancing commentator became really quiet. I suppose Ruthie felt the need to fill the air with words, as if the Dancers' music wasn't enough noise.
"Are they American?"
"Have you ever thought a guy might be singing this?"
"And you know, you have to be flexible to do some of this."
"I was wondering why he was all casual, and she's all fancy."
"Now those two are NOT attractive."
"They make it look SO easy."
"Your hair must look pretty wild after skating."
Hannah continued to murmur her agreement along with each and every one of Ruth's remarks, until I happened to look up again at the television to see the female Ice Dancer pick up her partner. "Whoa!" I said, "SHE PICKED HIM UP!"
"Yup. She must be pretty strong," Hannah said.
The girls became rather silent after that, engrossed in the brother-sister pair representing Great Britain, until one of the French competitors had their turn.
"I don't remember THEM being in the competition."
"Yes, Hannah, they were in the Original Dance, remember?" Ruth said exasperated. A thought occurred to her. "I wonder if they feel ridiculous."
"I think the brother and sister feel ridiculous because they are brother and sister," Hannah said, referring to the previous couple.
"Yeah, I'd feel ridiculous if it were me and Josh."
I found my attention drifting away when the bright colored costumes of the Russian skaters caught my eye. As flamboyant as their costumes, the choice of music was heavy, boisterous, and loud. I couldn't wait for their segment to end.
"The Russians think this is good music?" Ruth asked, incredulous. "Their outfits are CRAZY!"
"Especially that one," Hannah pointed to the female's bright red costume.
"The girl's outfit is weird. I suppose it's supposed to be fire," Ruth said.
"But what about the guy's?"
"I dunno. I guess it's smoke."
"OH! I get it!" Hannah said.
"Mama, is it supposed to be smoke?" Ruth asked me.
Hannah saved me from answering, "Yeah, I think he is supposed to be smoke."
I just shrugged and looked clueless. How much longer before bed time?
"The Russians have weird music." Ruthie said
"Is this supposed to be happy music?" Hannah asked. I just looked at her. This was in no way 'happy music' they were skating to.
"Well, at least they're very sparkly." Ruthie tried to find the positive.
Unfortunately, for me, we didn't get to finish watching Ice Dancing before they had to get to bed. And since they hit the record button so that they could catch the woman's figure skating "Short Program" which airs tonight, I know there's much more ice skating in my near future. So, my question is, do I get a medal for watching this stuff under duress?
The girls, however, love, love, love it. For the last few nights, they've used their big, pleading, brown eyes to weaken my defenses. "We can snuggle on the couch, under a big fluffy blanket and watch Ice Dancing. Doesn't that sound wonderful? Ohhh! Please please please please please?" Ruthie and Hannah said, stumbling over each others' words.
"Oh, ok. But we have to record it, because you won't be able to be up that late, and then we can finish watching it tomorrow." Foolish foolish words. For the last three days I've been watching Ice Dancing. Tomorrow I will still be watching Ice Dancing. And after that, it will be figure skating. Oh joy. Will wonders never cease.
Ruthie is the self-appointed fashion critic for Ice Dancing costuming. She also feels a need to determine whether a competitor is attractive or not. "Her outfit is pretty, and she's actually attractive."
"BUT HER UNDERWEAR IS SHOWING!" Hannah exclaimed loudly as the guy flipped the girl around his shoulders.
"That's not her underwear, it's her leotard," I said.
"Doesn't matter if you see her leotard or not. It's just a leotard," Ruth stated, as if she knew all there was to know about leotards and ice dancing.
We continued watching pair after pair when my bloodthirsty youngest said, "Aren't they going to show any stumbles?"
"No Hannah, this is live. If they were going to show stumbles, it would mean it just happened right now," Ruth explained.
The next few minutes passed silently with the occasional "Wow, they're good," or "Whoa" passing through their lips, until the Ice Dancing commentator became really quiet. I suppose Ruthie felt the need to fill the air with words, as if the Dancers' music wasn't enough noise.
"Are they American?"
"Have you ever thought a guy might be singing this?"
"And you know, you have to be flexible to do some of this."
"I was wondering why he was all casual, and she's all fancy."
"Now those two are NOT attractive."
"They make it look SO easy."
"Your hair must look pretty wild after skating."
Hannah continued to murmur her agreement along with each and every one of Ruth's remarks, until I happened to look up again at the television to see the female Ice Dancer pick up her partner. "Whoa!" I said, "SHE PICKED HIM UP!"
"Yup. She must be pretty strong," Hannah said.
The girls became rather silent after that, engrossed in the brother-sister pair representing Great Britain, until one of the French competitors had their turn.
"I don't remember THEM being in the competition."
"Yes, Hannah, they were in the Original Dance, remember?" Ruth said exasperated. A thought occurred to her. "I wonder if they feel ridiculous."
"I think the brother and sister feel ridiculous because they are brother and sister," Hannah said, referring to the previous couple.
"Yeah, I'd feel ridiculous if it were me and Josh."
I found my attention drifting away when the bright colored costumes of the Russian skaters caught my eye. As flamboyant as their costumes, the choice of music was heavy, boisterous, and loud. I couldn't wait for their segment to end.
"The Russians think this is good music?" Ruth asked, incredulous. "Their outfits are CRAZY!"
"Especially that one," Hannah pointed to the female's bright red costume.
"The girl's outfit is weird. I suppose it's supposed to be fire," Ruth said.
"But what about the guy's?"
"I dunno. I guess it's smoke."
"OH! I get it!" Hannah said.
"Mama, is it supposed to be smoke?" Ruth asked me.
Hannah saved me from answering, "Yeah, I think he is supposed to be smoke."
I just shrugged and looked clueless. How much longer before bed time?
"The Russians have weird music." Ruthie said
"Is this supposed to be happy music?" Hannah asked. I just looked at her. This was in no way 'happy music' they were skating to.
"Well, at least they're very sparkly." Ruthie tried to find the positive.
Unfortunately, for me, we didn't get to finish watching Ice Dancing before they had to get to bed. And since they hit the record button so that they could catch the woman's figure skating "Short Program" which airs tonight, I know there's much more ice skating in my near future. So, my question is, do I get a medal for watching this stuff under duress?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Conversations with Hannah
"So, we're learning about cones and cubes and spheres and stuff at school. The moon is a sphere. Is the earth a sphere?"
"Yes," I said absently as I put on my jacket and scarf. We were heading out the door to school. "The earth is a sphere."
"So, basically we're the only ones on a planet. This is the only planet that has life...so that makes us aliens. Isn't that right, Mama? Yes. We're aliens."
I just looked at her. She continued her running monologue as we got into the car and buckled herself in.
"I have gym today," she said, abruptly changing topic. I drove around the corner and pulled up to the curb of her school building.
"Oh? How about Fred. Do you have Fred tomorrow?"
"Oh I get it. No. Tomorrow I have Mary, and after that, Olivia. Next comes Max..." She trailed off as she slid out of the car.
I could still hear her rambling as she walked towards the doors. Driving away, I smiled.
"Yes," I said absently as I put on my jacket and scarf. We were heading out the door to school. "The earth is a sphere."
"So, basically we're the only ones on a planet. This is the only planet that has life...so that makes us aliens. Isn't that right, Mama? Yes. We're aliens."
I just looked at her. She continued her running monologue as we got into the car and buckled herself in.
"I have gym today," she said, abruptly changing topic. I drove around the corner and pulled up to the curb of her school building.
"Oh? How about Fred. Do you have Fred tomorrow?"
"Oh I get it. No. Tomorrow I have Mary, and after that, Olivia. Next comes Max..." She trailed off as she slid out of the car.
I could still hear her rambling as she walked towards the doors. Driving away, I smiled.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Cabin Fever struck the Mel House
The snow has been blowing since last last night, adding to Saturday's accumulation of about a foot. We cannot even see out our window. Sometime after lunch, the power went out, leaving us feeling mighty stranded. This is the first home I've ever lived in, where there wasn't at least one gas-powered heat source, be it the stove, the hot water heater, or the furnace, or all three.
"We need a generator," I told Jeremy.
"Yup."
"What are we gonna do?"
"Huddle under a blanket. Pretend we're pioneers?" He said.
"How about we try and find all the lanterns, candles, and batteries in the meantime while there's some daylight?" Usually our outages last a long time when the weather is decent. Like the summer when we went without power for several days because of a transformer on the lines that went bad. It was possible we could be with out power well into Friday. I was not feeling too optimistic.
"We could probably make an oil lamp."
"Maybe"
The lights flickered hopefully a few times and then died again.
"If we get desperate, we're gonna try it."
"Ok."
About an hour later, power returned, and we quickly decided to get as much done as possible. We looked up how to make a home-made oil lamp (yay Google) gathered those supplies in the event we lose power again. And we decided to wash the dishes from lunch that sat in the sink, since we had hot water again. Rather, we informed the kids they needed to wash the dishes before we made dinner.
It was only a matter of moments before we heard the familiar arguments, feet stompings, and catty noises emanating from Ruth and Hannah. Hannah, in typical fashion, was refusing to help. Ruth in her frustration decided to solve the problem in her own way.
She duct taped Hannah's mouth.
It might be important to mention at this point, Jeremy rarely raises his voice. I have seen him control the kids with a single look. I believe it is the implied "I-brought-you-into-this-world-I-can-take-you-out" glint in his eyes that keeps them in check. I can count on one hand the few times he's lost his temper, and yelled, usually at Joshua, and usually deserved.
The screeching sounds resulting from said duct taping brought the WRATH OF DAD pounding down the stairs like a thundercloud in all its mighty splendor, interrupting the beginnings of a true cat-fight. It is perhaps the first, and hopefully the last, time the girls have ever incurred the WRATH OF DAD. Ruth tried to tattle and get Jeremy in trouble with me. Big mistake. All she succeded in gaining was another lecture, this time from me.
"You duct taped your sister's mouth. You never duct tape your sister's mouth. Anyone's mouth. Be glad it was him and not me. I have half a mind to tie you two together like a three-legged race until you get along with one another."
All I can say is, I'm glad he was home to be judge and jury for a change. Here's hoping we survive the next 24 hours in close confinement with one another.
"We need a generator," I told Jeremy.
"Yup."
"What are we gonna do?"
"Huddle under a blanket. Pretend we're pioneers?" He said.
"How about we try and find all the lanterns, candles, and batteries in the meantime while there's some daylight?" Usually our outages last a long time when the weather is decent. Like the summer when we went without power for several days because of a transformer on the lines that went bad. It was possible we could be with out power well into Friday. I was not feeling too optimistic.
"We could probably make an oil lamp."
"Maybe"
The lights flickered hopefully a few times and then died again.
"If we get desperate, we're gonna try it."
"Ok."
About an hour later, power returned, and we quickly decided to get as much done as possible. We looked up how to make a home-made oil lamp (yay Google) gathered those supplies in the event we lose power again. And we decided to wash the dishes from lunch that sat in the sink, since we had hot water again. Rather, we informed the kids they needed to wash the dishes before we made dinner.
It was only a matter of moments before we heard the familiar arguments, feet stompings, and catty noises emanating from Ruth and Hannah. Hannah, in typical fashion, was refusing to help. Ruth in her frustration decided to solve the problem in her own way.
She duct taped Hannah's mouth.
It might be important to mention at this point, Jeremy rarely raises his voice. I have seen him control the kids with a single look. I believe it is the implied "I-brought-you-into-this-world-I-can-take-you-out" glint in his eyes that keeps them in check. I can count on one hand the few times he's lost his temper, and yelled, usually at Joshua, and usually deserved.
The screeching sounds resulting from said duct taping brought the WRATH OF DAD pounding down the stairs like a thundercloud in all its mighty splendor, interrupting the beginnings of a true cat-fight. It is perhaps the first, and hopefully the last, time the girls have ever incurred the WRATH OF DAD. Ruth tried to tattle and get Jeremy in trouble with me. Big mistake. All she succeded in gaining was another lecture, this time from me.
"You duct taped your sister's mouth. You never duct tape your sister's mouth. Anyone's mouth. Be glad it was him and not me. I have half a mind to tie you two together like a three-legged race until you get along with one another."
All I can say is, I'm glad he was home to be judge and jury for a change. Here's hoping we survive the next 24 hours in close confinement with one another.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
"I think after your name, I'll put in parenthesis, 'wife',"
Jeremy said as he loaded up his new phone contact list.
"Why? So you can remember who I am?"
He howled.
"Why? So you can remember who I am?"
He howled.
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