Dinner at our House: Kid Logic

Lori does this thing on her blog called "Around the Dinner Table". I've swiped borrowed the idea from her before, and I'm going to do so again.

Dinnertime is probably our best time together as a family. With sports and after school programs and work and homework and, well, life, we don't get to sit down and talk as a family much during the day. Dinner is really the best time for us to interact as a family. It's also the best time for us to get a little out of control with each other. Like Lori and her family, our conversations often veer off into crazy places.

The other night we were at the table and somehow Daphne came up. I can't remember exactly how, but one of the kids mentioned her. For those of you who don't know, Daphne recently moved to Australia. This has been a sore point for me because while I love her and want her to be happy, I selfishly want her to be happy somewhere much closer to me.

Anyway, the following conversation ensued:

Me: Daphne went bye bye - said with a sad face
LM: What? She's not on Earth anymore?
Me: She's on the other side of it
MM: Her toilet flushes to the right now
TG: I'm sure ours could if we wanted it to
MM and I share a look
MM: It doesn't work that way TG - he starts to explain why it wouldn't work when LM pipes up..
LM: She reads from right to left now
Me: What?
MM: What?
TG: Oh, that makes sense

The Girl doesn't understand the concept of the toilet flushing the other way, but it makes sense that Daphne now reads from right to left? MM and I could only laugh.

A few days later we were talking about TG being responsible for us when we get old. We were saying she needs to get good grades now so she can get into a good college and eventually get a good job. This is important since she'll be taking care of us in our old age. Naturally from there MM took it to the next level and started talking about her changing his diapers.

TG: Heck no I'm not. That's what retirement homes are for.
MM: I'm not going into a retirement home! People die in there!
LM: Duh. That's why they're called retirement homes..you retire from life.

Well...he does kind of have a point.

Letters on the White Board

I think it's time to resurrect this blog. I don't know why we let it fall to the wayside, but I'm going to rectify that now. Aren't you just the lucky ones?
___________________

A couple months ago I purchased a whiteboard for our refrigerator. We had one when I was growing up and it was really convenient for jotting down reminders or leaving notes. Now that the kids are getting older having the white board will - hopefully - make my life easier.

Since I picked it up, the whiteboard has really come in handy. Already we have phone messages/numbers written on it, a schedule for when the dogs were fed, notes about chores the kids need to complete when they get home from school, reminders about upcoming events and so on and so forth. Not only do I use it for the above mentioned things - and many others - but so do the kids.

Little Man especially uses it. Most nights before bed he makes his lunch for school the next day, including putting a water bottle in the freezer so he'll have cold water all day. Then he'll write a note on the whiteboard to remind himself not to forget it.

A couple weeks ago, The Girl decided it would be funny if she started taking his water bottle out of the freezer since she leaves before he does. I didn't realize she'd started doing this until I found this note on the board one night before I went to bed:

TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, do not take it!

I kind of laughed, because it's a little funny that she's been swiping his bottle. But I full on cracked up the next morning when I saw TG's reply. She erased a couple letters and it said:

TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, do take it!

Clever of her, wasn't it? I had to snicker, because that is SUCH a TG thing to do.

Little Man's reply?

TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, do take it! - I said do NOT take it, you idiot!

Ha! I know I shouldn't laugh that he called his sister an idiot, but I just couldn't help it. Freaking kids.

Funny how the same kid who will call his sister an idiot on the whiteboard will also use it to write me notes. Last week his school was having a canned food drive and he asked me if he could take in a donation. I asked him to write it on the board for me so I wouldn't forget. His note?

Dear mom, I would love it if you would put some canned food out for me. Sincerely, LM.

Awfully polite for a mouthy brat, don't you think?

These boots are made for Cheeks

A little over six months ago, I bought these boots for Cheeks at Nordstrom Rack while we were in Portland at my sister's house. She had been asking for a pair of cowboy books boots (Thanks, Holly), which I was hesitant in buying. I thought these boots were a good compromise. She loved them. She still loves them. In fact, I think she would sleep with them on if she could. It doesn't matter what she's wearing, unless it's P.E. day, the boots are on. She wears them with skirts, dresses, shorts. You name it. If I didn't know her so well, I would think that she's trying to set a new fashion trend for 7 year olds.



This was from this morning.



In the summer, she'll start wearing flip-flops. What am I going to do in the fall? She'll probably have grown out of them by then. Knowing her, she'll want to cut a hole in the front so they'll still fit.

Cheeks' Mother's Day letter

Last Friday, Cheeks's teacher did the coolest Mother's Day thing evah. Each kid had to write their mom a letter. We all came in and everyone read their letter out loud. Then we had a nice picnic lunch in the windy/cold conditions. Cheeks's letter had me tearing up and laughing at the same time.

Dear Mommy,

I love you because you know that I like spaghetti without tomatoes. I liked it when me and you went to Old Chicago and we played tic, tac, toe. You won and I lost. When I am sad you help me calm down. You help me take my medicine. I like you because you let me and Will walk home. I love you because you snuggle with me when I am sad. You let me watch Charmed in your bed and you let me watch Tom and Jerry downstairs. You color with me and let me have cereal for dinner. You tickle me and I laugh. I love you because you let me go to Bella's house sometimes and you let me play on your computer. I love you because you are coming to my school for Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day.
May 2009
Love, Cheeks

Is that the freaking sweetest thing ever? ::sigh:: I was a little mortified at the "you let me have cereal for dinner" part. This was right after our next door neighbor read his mom a letter that started with "I love you because you cook me dinner every single night.". LOL

I found these pictures while doing some of our spring cleaning. This is one of my favorite ones of W. I think he was about a year old. He crawled in there and fell right to sleep.



And here's our princess. She hasn't changed a bit.

Soccer fun

Jack is at soccer practice with W. I called him b/c he was going to the store and I forgot to tell him something else I needed. The following conversation ensued:

Jack: I swear, our son is the laziest kid out there...like out of all the kids out there. (meaning not just on his team, but out of about 10 teams).

Me: And this surprises you how?

It's true. If W had a motto, it would be "Why run if you can walk?"

My son, the public speaker

We got the link to the wedding photos last night. This is a screenshot of the actual picture (Dear Photographer, we will pay for prints). That is not me behind W. It's Jack's aunt. I cut off her head.

So, as per tradition, the best man made the speech then offered up the microphone to anyone that wanted to say anything to the bride and groom. I'm pretty sure that W was the first one that offered. As much as I'd like to take credit for it, Jack and I did not prompt him to do this, nor did he have anything written. This is pure W.

"I just want to say congratulations to Christine and Frank on their wedding day. And Christine, you look very beautiful today."

After that last part, my MIL started crying. Jack and I were bug eyed with our mouths hanging open. I was torn between laughing and crying. He never calls Jack's mom "Christine". She's Nana. But it was just so W.

I never really understood the expression "bursting with pride", but that's how I felt after he handed the microphone over.

At least we're doing it right w/ one kid.

Kids are so damn expensive

Cheeks has been losing teeth left and right for the past two months. She's lost a total of eight teeth (4 on top and 4 on bottom). She just lost her 4th tooth on the top, which allowed one of her top middle teeth to come in. I noticed that it was big and seemed to be blocking the tooth next to it.

Today Jack took both kids to their semi-annual dental appointment. They took a panoramic x-ray of Cheeks and have referred her to the orthodontist.

*headdesk*

Mother-f-er. SRSLY? W already had to get a butt load of ortho work done. He's 8 years old and has already had braces. He has space maintainers on the top and he's getting them for the bottom on Friday. We switched insurance at the beginning of the year. I figured since we were already maxed out on ortho for W, we wouldn't need it anyway. Now the insurance we have, ortho is excluded.

Does it ever end? I mean, really. I need to sell a kidney or some shit. Any takers?

A "not very pleasant" note from W

We were in Northern California for my MIL's wedding from Wednesday to Sunday. On Friday night, we threw her a surprise bridal shower. As most people know, bridal showers are generally for females. So W was very upset that he couldn't come upstairs and be a part of it. Cheeks was w/ us, as was his four year old cousin. He wasn't a happy camper. They have a big bonus room upstairs and I could kind of seem him loitering outside the door, giving me the evil eye.

A few minutes after I saw them, he came in and handed me a fake rose petal (part of the decorations). He said "This note is for you. It's not a very pleasant note." and then he left.

I'm kind of having to wing it, b/c I can't find the damn thing. Which really pisses me off, b/c I thought I put it in my pocket. I went upstairs and asked him and he remembered it word for word. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me.

Dear moma,
I'm not going to be your ring bearer anymore. And I'm serious.
Not your love,
W

I have more stories about him. Including the speech he gave at the reception. God, I love that kid.

Kids & Tofu

I don't make tofu very often. If you don't cook it right, it tastes like, well, nothing. If you make you're able to make good tofu, then it is good.

On Sunday night, I made Barbequed Tofu Sandwiches. They were really good. Jack and even my brother liked them. Because of this misconception that W has about "my" food, I told him it was chicken. No, that doesn't make me horrible. Just sneaky. LOL

He loved it. LOVED it. He even wanted seconds. I couldn't eat my whole sandwich, so I gave him the rest of mine. As he was finishing his, I told him what it really was. He thought I meant the one I gave him. I told him that it was all the same. After that, he wouldn't eat anymore.

Freaking kids. This is what happens when I try to cook. Next time, I'm just going to stick to the lie.

He's like me in one way

The running joke in our family is that Cheeks is my mini-me. Well, W is like me in some ways, too.

Yesterday morning, I told him to get dressed (twice) and when he didn't come downstairs, I went up to see what he was doing. He was still in his underwear and he was reading. He's been really into the Lemony Snicket series and was almost done w/ one of the books. It instantly brought to mind how many times I was caught reading when I wasn't supposed to be.

Honestly, I did know if I should hug him or yell at him.

My April Fool's Joke

At about 2:00 a.m. on April 1st, 1999 I woke up after having the strangest dream - in which I was having labor pains and Tom Cruise (this was back before he went batshit crazy, thankyouvermuch) was my birthing coach - with a dire need to use the bathroom. I crawled out of bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When I got back to bed I found the surprise of a lifetime - my bed was soaked. And not in a good way.

I was in labor (though sadly there was no Tom in sight) and my water had broken. I woke up my (now ex) husband and told him it was time to go to the hospital. While he scrambled around all panicked I grabbed a quick shower and put a bag together (I wasn't due for another 9 days, so I hadn't packed one yet). The RB (my ex) was basically useless, standing there staring at me while I finished packing and getting myself ready to go. Eventually I told him he needed to get dressed and he shook his head like he was coming out of a daze and threw some clothes on.

While he did that I called his mom to let her know we were bringing The Girl over and then called my mom (who was living in California at the time) to let her know we were going to the hospital. That done, I woke The Girl up and got her ready to go.

We gathered everything up and headed out the door, only to stop short. While we'd been sleeping peacefully in our beds a storm had moved in and there was over 3 feet of snow on the ground with a blizzard still raging. Naturally, because nothing can ever be easy, we didn't own a 4 wheel drive. The RB went down to clear off the car and warm it up.

It was slow going - when there's a storm like that the streets don't get plowed in the middle of the night - but we eventually made it to his parent's house where we dropped The Girl off, and then to the hospital. Once we were all checked in and I had an epidural (best invention like, ever) we settled in to wait.

I'll spare you the gruesome details of labor and delivery (like how the RB said I sounded like a pig while grunting through contractions and I broke his hand - hey, he isn't the Rat Bastard for nothing), but at 10:49 a.m., Little Man was born. We made the requisite calls and then I knocked out. I was discharged from the hospital at 9:00 the next morning. When we got home we checked the answering machine and there were about 15 messages, almost all of them from my mother, "If this is some kind of April Fool's joke I'm going to kick your ass! Call me back!"

Gotta love the Devil Woman.

Like I said, his due date wasn't until April 9th, so in a way, he was my April Fool's joke.

Dear Little Man,

You're a strange child, often a PITA, occasionally super silly and stubborn as all get out. But you're also helpful, sweet and a total joy to me.

I love you with all my heart and I'm so glad you're mine. Yes, even when you're a PITA.

Happy 10th Birthday, Baby Boy!

Love,

Your mama

At least he can blame it on sleepwalking

Looks like I'm not the only one getting lost in our house. Last night when I was heading upstairs to go to bed, I heard the laundry room door close. So I joked to Jack that Molly needed some privacy, so she closed the door (not all the way). She's weird like that, so I wasn't surprised at all.

When I got upstairs, I saw that the light in the laundry room was on and went to turn it off. What did I find? W, with his shorts down and about to pee in Molly's water. I got there in the nick of time and gently steered him to the bathroom. The only thing I thought I had to worry about when it came to W's nighttime bathroom visits was whether or not he'd put the seat up. Obviously I have to re-evaluate.

Happy Birthday, Cheeks

Dear Cheeks,

Today you turn seven years old.

If there is one thing that daddy and I have learned about you in the past seven years, it is that you do things your way. From the moment I was pregnant with you, we have not had a minute of peace. You made your existence known from the womb. I had morning sickness for my whole pregnancy with you. I went into labor at 1am on March 19, 2002.

I told daddy that we should have known right then...you weren't going to be easy. That turned out to be an understatement.

We spent five days in the hospital after you were born b/c of your heart. If I would have known who you were going to turn out to be, I would have said that you did it on purpose to have all of our attention to yourself.

Raising you has been a rollercoaster ride. There is no other person in the world that can make me as mad as you do. There is no other person in the world who can make me laugh as much as you do. So while life hasn't been peaceful since you were born, it has still been wonderful. You bring joy to our lives, Cheeks. Even though life is a constant struggle since you've been born, we wouldn't change anything about you.

I hope your day lives up to your expectations. I have never seen anyone as happy as you were this morning when I said "Happy Birthday". It's times like these that make everything we've gone through with you worth it. Your smile and laugh is infectious. I think even W would agree.

Happy seventh birthday, Cheeks. I love you.

Love,
Momma

P.S. Can you believe that daddy actually reminded me not to forget your birthday before he left this morning??

PITA - It's a Type of Flatbread, I Swear!

Until September when I got laid off, I worked for a mortgage broker as a loan processor. Which basically means I processed the paperwork to find out if potential homeowners qualified for a mortgage. As we often say, "When you're dealing with people's money, you're dealing with their emotions." Which is basically a really nice way of saying people are assholes when it comes to signing their life away for 30+ years. Believe me, I understand. That's a huge commitment. Understanding, however, does not mean it didn't piss me off when clients would ride my ass or be rude to me just because they were stressed out.

As a way to combat our frustration, we would occasionally threaten to charge a PITA fee to the worst offenders. We wouldn't have actually done this except that one time..or ten, of course, since it's completely unethical, but the idea of it made us feel much better.

PITA = Pain In The Ass

Since then, I often use the word PITA in that context. "Running all these errands is a PITA.", "MM is being a PITA.", etc. I think it's a nice alternative to actually saying the curse word. Not that I have a problem saying Ass or anything, but I can't exactly say naughty words in front of my children, right? Perfect solution.

Until the other day. Because that's when I broke the cardinal rule of parenthood and called my son a PITA. In my defense, he was being one.

He had a field trip on Thursday and was getting his stuff ready the night before. Because he was so excited, he was almost literally bouncing off the walls. He was running around the house, jumping on the furniture, laughing hysterically over nothing and generally driving me batshit crazy.

Around 8:30 (his bedtime is 9) I asked him if he had his clothes set out and his lunch made. Naturally he did not. I told him to get started and I'd be along to help him shortly. After much more running around, jumping and being a general PAIN IN MY ASS he finally brought me his clothes for the next day. A pair of jeans that he grew out of months ago and a tank top I think he wore when he was 5 (as an aside: I have no idea where he finds these too small clothes. Every few months I go through their clothes and get rid of the ones that no longer fit. And yet inevitably he shows up with something that's so small a toddler could wear it. WTF?) and socks with holes in them. Argh.

I sent him back to get new clothes and he came back with two t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Why two t-shirts? Because I told him he needed to layer. *headdesk* At this point I was beyond frustrated and finally said, "Dude, you're a total PITA, did you know that?"

Uh..oops?

He says, "Mom, what's a PITA?" and I say, without missing a beat, "It's a type of bread" and he gets all skeptical and says, "No seriously, what is it."

Crap, I'm a horrible mother.

I explained that a PITA is a type of flatbread and that it's actually what MM uses when he makes mini-pizzas (another aside: Which is actually something he saw on the Rachel Ray show and is really great for a quick meal. The kids love them and they're easy to make.). I was rather proud of myself for coming up with such a wonderful response until he said, "Mom, that's not what you meant!" My child is not as dumb as I expect him to be. I said, "Really, I just meant that you're stuffed full of it!" and he gave me that look like, "yeah right".

So I did what any good, self-respecting mother would do. I said, "No really, ask MM" and then fled the room.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of my Mother of the Year nomination being flushed down the toilet.

Again.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I first saw this over at Rosie's, then Lori did it with her boys, then Tracy with her girls. I decided to ask my children, too.

1. What is something your mom always says to you?
TG – Go to bed
LM– Go to bed. Get out of bed. Bye. Love you. See you tonight. See you in the morning.
(LM and I have a ritual we say every night at bed and every morning when he leaves for school. I say, "Goodnight. Love you. See you in the morning"and then he says it back to me. We've done this since he was a toddler. If I don't say it, he kind of freaks out. It's cute. I hope we can do it forever - though I seriously doubt it.)

2. What makes your mom happy?
TG – When I get my homework done on time without anyone asking me
LM – Books and the computer

3. What makes your mom sad?
TG – When I get in trouble at school
LM – When MM is being a jerkyface (heh)

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
TG – By smiling (aww)
LM – By tickling me.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
TG – Hard to say, I wasn't around for that
LM – How are we supposed to know that? I'd guess crazy.

6. How old is your mom?
TG – 29 ...she thinks she's 25, though (I said I stopped celebrating at 25, not that I think I'm 25)
LM – 29

7. How tall is your mom?
TG – 5'2"
LM – 5'2" (I'm actually 5'3", but close enough)

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
TG – Read
LM – Read

9. What does your mom do when you’re not around?
TG – Read, Play the Wii, Clean house
LM – Read, and play games on the computer and the Wii, and eat ice cream.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
TG – Publishing a book, considering the fact that you already edit plenty
LM – Publishing books
(Which is very funny, since I have no desire to publish a book. Also, I think TG meant "reviewing" when she said editing. Same difference? :P )

11. What is your mom really good at?
TG – Mopping the floors
LM - Reading books

12. What is your mom not very good at?
TG – Keeping her cool when MM says something stupid
LM – Math
(Right after I asked TG this, MM yelled at me from the living room so I yelled back. I wonder if that influenced her answer?)

13. What does your mom do for her job?
TG – Cleans the house, stays at home
LM – Nothing. Sit at home and read, play on the computer and the Wii. And ask me questions. (Once again, I sense MM in this)

14. What is your mom’s favorite food?
TG – I'm not sure. I'm seriously not sure what my own mom's favorite food is.
LM – Gumbo (I made this for dinner the other night much to the chagrin of he and MM. My favorite food is actually Peanut Butter.)

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
TG – That she's a good mom, period. I was going to list stuff, but you're really just a good mom. (awwww!)
LM – Doing nothing at home. Because you're lazy. I like lazy mother's. (much giggling ensued...brat)

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
TG – Donald Duck. *pause* I was debating between Donald Duck and Eyeore. (uh..ok)
LM - Truffles. Because she's crazy and scary and mad. (According to the website: "Mung Daal's wife, Truffles, likes to be the boss and has a very competitive streak. While Mung Daal handles the cooking, Truffles takes care of everything else." Not sure how I feel about that. Hmm...)

17.What do you and your mom do together?
TG – We get our nails done and we sit around a lot.
LM – Sit around and watch t.v.
(Makes me sound really lazy, doesn't it?)

18. How are you and your mom the same?
TG – We both look alike. We're both short. We both love to read. We both love boys that can turn different shades of red. (I need to take a break here to talk about this boy she "loves". Brb)
LM – We like watching t.v., we like playing on the computer and Wii, we like going to bed and.....that's it. Oh and we like doggies.

19. How are you and your mom different?
TG – Our sense of style. You're always like,"NO! Go back and change".
LM – She likes reading books and her eBook reader and blogging and publishing books. (Doesn't know me at all, does he?)

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
TG – Cause she says it lots.
LM – Because she says it to me every night and morning. And she shows it by hugging me.

21. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?
TG – Borders
LM – The book store.
(oh, so true.)

The "P" Word

Last night I made Tamale Pie for dinner. It's basically a casserole made with ingredients similar to those in regular tamales. As we were sitting around the table eating, the following conversation ensued.

Little Man, who is the pickiest eater ever says, "Mom, why did you put bacon in this?"
Me: Because the recipe called for it. It gives it extra flavor.
LM: Oh.
The Girl says: LM doesn't like bacon.
MM rolls his eyes and says, "Do you like sausage?"
LM: Yes.
MM and I look at each other, b/c hello, it all comes from the same place.
LM, misunderstanding our exchange says, "Not that kind of sausage!"
LM and TG bust up laughing.

Whoa. Wait a minute. What? Little Man is 9. What kind of sausage would a 9 year old be talking about?

MM says, "What does that mean? What's so funny?"
TG: LM has been hanging out with Kyle too much.
MM: I asked LM what that meant, not you. Let him answer.

Little Man is giggling so hard now he can't breathe and The Girl joins him.

Finally LM mumbles something that sound suspiciously like "wee wee sausage" and MM and I stare at each other for a minute. I raise an eyebrow in a "did he really say what I think he said" kind of way and MM shrugs. We both turn back to Little Man and demand he repeat himself. After several more minutes of giggling...

MM: Little Man, what kind of sausage were you referring to?
LM: Wee Wee Sausage.
MM: Wee Wee Sausage? You mean like Lil' Smokies?
LM shakes his head: No, MM, not like that.
MM: Well, those are the only Wee Wee Sausages I know of. Oh, did you mean PENIS?
The Girl: OMG! Stop! *she covers her ears* Don't say it again!
MM: Why? That's what it's called. That's the clinical term for it. Check your science book.
TG: OMG!!! They don't have that in my science book. They have things like Earthquakes and stuff.
Me: Babe, I think they might be a bit young to have that in their science books.
MM: Oh. Well eventually TG, you'll have Penis' in your science book.
TG: OMG! Stop! Mom, can I leave the table? Please?!?
MM: Why do you want to leave the table?
TG: PLEASE LET ME LEAVE MOM!
MM to LM: So, did you mean Lil' Smokies or Penis'?

At that point The Girl got up and hid and in the pantry. 5 seconds later when MM said "Penis" again, Little Man joined her.

You know what I wanna know? Who the hell is Kyle and what has he been teaching my child?

Hmmm

As the kids were walking out this morning.....

The Girl: Bye Mom. Love you.
Little Man: Bye Mom. Love you. Have a good day at work.
Me: Bye kids. Love you.
LM: Er, well, you don't go to work.
TG: Crap, I forgot something in my room.
Me: TG, you aren't bringing Eclipse to school.
TG: Ugh.
LM: Bye. Have a good day at work.
The Girl almost drops her backpack
TG: That would have been bad.
LM: Why do I keep saying "have a good day at work"? She doesn't go to work.
TG: LM, her job is to stay home and clean the house. This is her work.
The door closes behind them.

Kids. Why do I get the feeling they heard that particular line from MM?

No More Mom to the Rescue

I'm trying to figure out WTF happened at my children's school recently to allow them unlimited access to the phone. I'm not joking when I say unlimited, either. My children are 12 and (almost) 10. They do not have cell phones. They aren't even in the realm of possibly getting a cell phone at this point. I think it's ridiculous that 90% of the 6th grade already have cell phones.

But that's a rant for another day.

The point here is that they don't have cell phones and yet I received 7 phone calls from them yesterday. Yes, 7. 3 times The Girl called begging, begging, me to bring her Eclipse by Stephanie Meyer (the book she's currently reading), despite the fact that she was banned from taking it to school because she wasn't paying attention in class (I made her leave it at home, just so you know. The school didn't ban it..).

Then she called in the afternoon (I was at the doctor) and left a message on my cell phone, "Uh, hey mom, it's me, your daughter, The Girl" in case I didn't know that she, The Girl, was, in fact, my daughter?, "Uh, well..just listen to the message on the answering machine at home before 3:10, ok?" This message was left at 3:05. While I was across town. *headdesk* The reason for the message? She needed me to sign her release form allowing her to stay after school on Tuesday's for play practice. Something she neglected to tell me about.

Little Man also called twice to tell me he didn't have choir practice (he NEVER has choir on Tuesdays. Never. EVER.) and then to let me know he wanted to sign up for track. Track starts in 3 weeks and the sign-up sheets haven't even been sent home yet. W.T.F.

This morning The Girl called me because she forgot her binder at home. Now, for those of you not in the know, The Girl has major homework issues. Every Monday she brings me a progress report from the week before. If it's noted that she didn't turn in her homework, she's grounded to her room until she brings me a clean progress report. She was once grounded - TO HER ROOM - for 4 consecutive weeks for not turning in her homework

I feel that responsibility is just as important as actually doing the work, so her telling me she forgot her homework at home isn't a good enough excuse to get her out of being grounded. I.e, just because she left her binder at home doesn't mean she gets a pass. Actually, IMO, it's worse, because she's supposed to put her binder in her backpack and place her backpack by the front door every night after she does her homework.

Anyway, she calls me this morning and begs me to bring her binder in before 11 so she can turn her homework in. Last week I got called to the school 4 different times between her and Little Man because they kept forgetting things, needing things, etc. *sigh*

So far I've been rescuing them, but after today I plan to have a sitdown with them to explain that just because I'm home during the day now does not make me their personal assistant. If they forget things, too bad for them. And no more 50 phone calls a day about random things. Sheesh.

No more Mom to the Rescue!

Valentine's Day Don'ts

If your child makes you a rose out of two Hershey kisses, for the love of God, do not eat it. It doesn't matter if it is that time of the month and that rose contains the only chocolate in the house. Do not eat it.

If you don't heed my advice, you'll be looking at a face like this:



In case any of you are wondering, the reason I shove a camera in her face when she cries is b/c it stops her from crying. She is so photogenic...she won't be caught dead crying in a picture. Look tragic? Yes. Look like a brat? No.



And if that one made you smile, this one should make you laugh.

Jack & Will

You can't tell that these two are father and son, can you?



I was going to post about our weekend in Vancouver, but came across this picture and couldn't resist posting it.

I Just Can't Catch A Break

Over the weekend I got a letter in the mail from the kids school. This always makes me nervous. Probably because whenever my parents got notes in the mail when I was growing up they contained bad news. "Your child has missed 72 days in her first period class." or "Your child was caught fighting on the playground today." "Your child got caught having sexy under the bleachers today." Ok, so that last one never happened, but still.. *shudder*

So of course my first thought was, "Cripes, what did you do now?" Er..actually I might not have just thought it. It's possible I actually said that out loud. Like..to him. But we don't need to bring up old shit, right? Anyway the note ended up being good. He's receiving an award next week for being the most improved student in the class. If you read my post about Homework Hell you understand what a great accomplishment this is for him. We still have to fight with him every night to get it done, but it is getting done. YAY!

I also got a letter about The Girl. It turns out she's been put in to be tested for..well, basically for honors. Hello awesome! And..shocking. Not that she isn't extremely intelligent, she absolutely is, but she's also absolutely lazy. Everything sounds great, right?

Yeah, until today. When The Girl brings home her weekly progress report and guess what? She didn't turn in two of her homework assignments last week. Which means...she's grounded. From life. Until she brings us a clean progress report.

How can a child that smart be that dumb?

I just really can't catch a break, can I?

Letters from Kelsey

This is a new one. Usually it's letters to Cheeks. Yesterday she got in trouble and didn't get to go on our walk. W and I went and Jack stayed home with Cheeks. She threw a huge fit, said she would be good, and generally cried like her heart was breaking. When we got home, we came in the door and there was a letter on the rug right inside the door. It's a piece of paper, folded in half.

Front:

To: Moma From Cheeks
:( :( :(

Inside:

Moma I nevr won't to go no a wock with you ene more in my life ef in your life so their now.

Translation:

Momma, I never want to go on a walk with you any more in my life if (or?) in your life so there now.

At first, I wasn't happy b/c it really is a rude note written in a fit of anger. At the same time, I'm happy that she's able to express herself like that. I guess it's better that way than her yelling it in my face.

The wrath of Jack

Don't bother him when he watches football. Even though Cheeks experienced what happens first hand, I'll have to remind her before the Super Bowl.

On Sunday, Jack was watching football and I was doing homework. Cheeks started crying from upstairs. Neither of us moved. I felt bad about that after the fact, but it's her own damn fault. We're so used to hearing her cry or throw fits that we don't react. This time, she was really hurt. She fell and hit her head. She had a huge goose egg. Touching it made my head hurt. When Jack went upstairs, I heard W saying "I didn't do it, I didn't do it!".

When Cheeks came down, I set her up with an icepack. W came downstairs right as I noticed some blood on her shirt. I asked what happened and W said he didn't do anything, he just "gave her a bloody nose by accident".

Huh.

Later that night, Jack was still watching football when we put the kids to bed. Cheeks has always been the child that puts off going to bed. She doesn't care what she has to do. She'll need five drinks of water, decide she needs to brush her teeth again, or she may need an icepack b/c something is itching. Regardless, we've gotten used to her excuses. Or I thought we had. She came down and started crying about how her head is going to hurt "tomorrow and the next day and the day after that and probably the day after that, too". Jack got mad at her. See, in his mind she was trying to make us feel guilty because she was hurt. She's six.

The lesson learned? Don't come between Jack Bauer and football playoffs.

Boys Are Strange

We have approximately 4 power outlets per room in our house. Some rooms have more and some rooms have less, but the average is 4. We have 9 rooms in our house, so that means we have approximately 36 power outlets in our house. I'd say of those, probably 4 are completely filled and and another 5 or so are covered by furniture. That leaves us with 27 open and available power outlets in our house. From where I'm sitting on the couch I can see 3 of them.

So why then I wonder did Little Man plug his Nintendo DS into the one in the dining room? I ask, because it seems odd to me that the child would choose the one outlet in the entire house that requires him to hide under the dining room table to use it.



Boys are so strange.

(The kids when to stay with their dad for a week after Christmas. When they came home, Little Man had a mohawk. Yes, a mohawk. This is an ongoing thing with us. If I don't get LM a haircut before he goes to his dad's he comes home with a mohawk. I have a feeling the RB (Aka: the Rat Bastard, their dad) does it on purpose just to piss me off. Isn't it awful?)

Why we call her Cheeks

I've been going through some old pictures on our computer and found this one a few weeks ago. It reminded me why she was given the nickname Cheeks (given by a very special friend).

She also wanted me to take a picture of her new haircut, front and back. I really wish I could pull this cut off.

Young Love

When I picked up the kids up on Monday night, W informed me that this girl named McKenzie wanted to be his "girlfriend". He was in her class last year and they are the only two members of the "Cafeteria Clean-Up Crew". So they've been friends for awhile. But now they're apparently boyfriend and girlfriend. Whatever that means in the 3rd grade. I asked him what he told her and he said that he hadn't answered her yet.

Last night, we had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: Did you decide if McKenzie was going to be your girlfriend?

W: I told her yes, but then this morning I broke up with her. I got back together with her at the end of the day, though.

Me: Why did you break up with her?

W: Because she started telling people.

Jack: [Laughing so hard he can't really even say anything]

I was laughing at that point, too. It was just the way he said it that really set me off. I have never heard an eight year old that speaks as proper as this one does. He manages to get the exact right tone. So Jack and I talked to him about how he couldn't break up w/ a girl and get back together (I can't believe I just actually typed that about my 8 year old).

Then the conversation continued:

Me: So what happened? Did you just tell her you wanted to be her boyfriend again?

W: No, I passed her a note.

Jack: [horrified] In class?

Me: They're not in the same class.

W: No, in the hallway after school.

Me: Well, what did it say.

W: It said "I'll be your boyfriend again if you don't tell anyone".

And the laughter started all over followed by another talk about how fragile the feeling of an 8 year old girl could be. Now if this girl was anything like Cheeks, she would have taken the note and shoved it down his throat.

Dinner at our House

Lori often talks about her dinner conversation with her boys on her blog. If you haven't already, you should go check it out because she's hilarious! I love her and her boys.

We also have odd dinnertime interactions - but ours are more of the interactive variety. At least lately they are. A couple months ago we were having some conversation at dinner when MM made the girl laugh so hard she shot water out of her nose. Since then it's become a game for them to see what else she can shoot out her nose.

So far she's done:

• Water
• Juice
• Milk
• Apricots (sadly this happened at school and MM didn't get to see)

MM calls this game, "What Can The Girl Shoot Out Her Nose?". He also plays, "What Will Fat Boy Eat?" with our chubby dog, Chewy. You know, in case you were wondering.

The other night at the dinner table we started talking about something and TG snorted. This apparently reminded MM of his game. He waited until we were almost finished with dinner, then caught TG just as she took a drink. Then he whipped around in his chair (he sits at the head of the table and she sits on his left) and looked at her with this really creepy face he has (I made him recreate it for me so I could so you..creepy, isn't it?) with his fingers steeped - Mr. Burns style.

As soon as she saw him The Girl snorted and a stream of Egg Nog shot out her nose. A stream, people. This is what I have to deal with. Welcome to my own personal form of hell.

Although..It was pretty funny. Afterward she laughed so hard she cried while I took pictures and Little Man and MM made jokes. MM is still really pleased with himself. Last night we had pasta for dinner and he tried to talk her into seeing if she could shoot a pasta noodle out her nose. She refused, thank goodness. I kind of have to wonder how long it'll be before it happens, though.

Could You Survive?

I've been dealing with a disc related back injury since the beginning of September. I've been in physical therapy for four months. Part of the PT is walking (brisk walking). He had me start doing that when the weather was really crappy and there was no way it could be done outside. So Jack and I would load the kids up and go to the gym. Since the weather has been much nicer the last week or so, I've been walking outside. Because they're not old enough to stay home alone, they have to come with me. They can walk, ride their scooters, or ride their bikes. We go about 1.6 miles around our subdivision which takes 25-30 minutes.

Yesterday afternoon, we set off with me walking and both W and Cheeks on their bikes. We got about half a mile (most of this is downhill) and they started complaining that their legs hurt. I rolled my eyes at this point. The really bad part came at the end of the loop when we had to go back up the hill. It's not a very steep incline, more of a gradual hill. W hasn't quite gotten the fact that you shouldn't stop halfway up to "rest". So they're both huffing and puffing, complaining about their legs being tired, that they're tired and are we almost done? I just wanted to knock their heads together, I was so annoyed.

Recently, they've been watching this show on the Discovery channel called "Could You Survive?". It's basically overweight, out of shape people that get put in a situation where they have to depend on physical strength for survival. I've watched the show with them, it really is a good show. So they've been watching recorded episodes of it for the last week or so.

This morning when I came downstairs to make coffee, they were watching the last episode. It was called "Wildfire". These two couples have to run 1.25 miles, climb a hill and run to the "helipad" all under a certain amount of time. So I'm making the coffee and W asks me (completely serious by the way) "Do you think I could run 1.25 miles?"

I laughed. I laughed and laughed. I felt kind of bad for laughing so hard, but I was just remembering the day before he couldn't even ride his bike for 1.25 miles without stopping and complaining. So after I stopped laughing, I explained that no, I didn't think he could run 1.25 miles.

Both him and Cheeks are determined to try it. Apparently, when we go on our walk today, the two of them are going to "run". I'm thinking about trying to take the video camera. It's bound to be good entertainment.

How a kid sleeps

really tells you how they live their life. This picture of Cheeks sleeping really says everything about her than needs to be said.