"Emily, in what three events would you like to compete in the track meet Sunday?"
"Oh! Long jump, track and field."
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Quote of the Day
Emily: "Mom, you are going to have the best Mother's Day present ever!!"
Mom: "I have you guys - that's already the best present ever."
Emily: "Yes, but this is almost specialer than us!"
Mom: "I have you guys - that's already the best present ever."
Emily: "Yes, but this is almost specialer than us!"
Quote of the Day
Em and Dec were practicing track and field. They were hurdling over couch cushions. Considering the many things that they could have chosen as hurdles, I thought this was a relatively safe option. Score one for Mom!
Emily didn't make it over a cushion and collapsed on the floor. She didn't even lift her head and stayed crumpled on the floor.
"Uuuggghhh. I'm going to stay here. Just use me as a hurdle."
Emily didn't make it over a cushion and collapsed on the floor. She didn't even lift her head and stayed crumpled on the floor.
"Uuuggghhh. I'm going to stay here. Just use me as a hurdle."
Thursday, April 14, 2011
My Son the Fugative
Okay. the first thing that is important for me to say is that I love my son. Dearly. Really, I do. So, when I say that today I want to sell him to a band of nomadic gypsies, I am kidding. Mostly.
The beginning. My house looks like crap right now. Really, really bad. Long days at work, an overambitious and now temporarily abandoned clothes sorting project and a couple of mostly done home improvement projects have conspired to destroy any credibility I ever had as a homemaker.
Declan's birthday was Monday. After school, The Husband took him to an arcade/glow in the dark mini golf/paintball/pizza joint/everything an eight year-old ever dreamed of place in the city. They stopped and picked up a birthday cake on the way home. I wanted The Husband to go get a cake at the natural food store, but he didn't. Declan ate way too much of it and had to stay home from school the next day due to intestinal distress.
I had to work, and because of our attendance policy HAD to go. The Husband HAD to cover an event. So, the little guy settled in front of the TV, dutifully recited the "at home alone rules" and watched some cartoons.
He had been alone for about 90 minutes when my phone at work rings. It's The Husband's friend. He's on our deck.With the town police officer.
We know the officer, too. In fact, he's Declan's wrestling coach. Geoff tells me that someone placed a 911 call from our number.
WHAT?!?!?!?
The call was a hang-up, but Will has to follow up to make sure everything is okay. Which I appreciate. Since I just talked to the kid about a half hour ago, I told them to hang tight on the deck and I'll call inside. No answer.
Damn it! Maybe he is unconscious! Maybe his stomach ruptured. Maybe he's laying on the floor wondering why his Mom didn't save him... I told them to go inside and look for him.
They found him. He was not unconscious, sick or dead. He was hiding. In the absolute furthest corner of the house. After my relief wore off, it hit me.
The furthest corner of the house. THEY WALKED THROUGH THE ENTIRE HOUSE. Oh, damn. They walked past the not finished home improvements, waded through two years of outgrown clothes that have now become strewn all over the upstairs, and navigated around the huge box that contains Emily's new desk - also graffitied by Declan with about two dozen drawings of the Pringles guy. Shit!!!!!!!
I called The Husband in terror that before I could home, DHS would be there removing my son from the care of his incapable mother. He patiently reminded me that Will has four kids of his own, and Geoff is currently remodeling his house so actually living in the basement. "They aren't judging."
Whatever. This obviously all happened because of the cake. That he bought. Damn it.
I was going over with Declan where he could have made some different choices that day, and I asked him what he learned.
"That 911 really works." Indeed.
The beginning. My house looks like crap right now. Really, really bad. Long days at work, an overambitious and now temporarily abandoned clothes sorting project and a couple of mostly done home improvement projects have conspired to destroy any credibility I ever had as a homemaker.
Declan's birthday was Monday. After school, The Husband took him to an arcade/glow in the dark mini golf/paintball/pizza joint/everything an eight year-old ever dreamed of place in the city. They stopped and picked up a birthday cake on the way home. I wanted The Husband to go get a cake at the natural food store, but he didn't. Declan ate way too much of it and had to stay home from school the next day due to intestinal distress.
I had to work, and because of our attendance policy HAD to go. The Husband HAD to cover an event. So, the little guy settled in front of the TV, dutifully recited the "at home alone rules" and watched some cartoons.
He had been alone for about 90 minutes when my phone at work rings. It's The Husband's friend. He's on our deck.With the town police officer.
We know the officer, too. In fact, he's Declan's wrestling coach. Geoff tells me that someone placed a 911 call from our number.
WHAT?!?!?!?
The call was a hang-up, but Will has to follow up to make sure everything is okay. Which I appreciate. Since I just talked to the kid about a half hour ago, I told them to hang tight on the deck and I'll call inside. No answer.
Damn it! Maybe he is unconscious! Maybe his stomach ruptured. Maybe he's laying on the floor wondering why his Mom didn't save him... I told them to go inside and look for him.
They found him. He was not unconscious, sick or dead. He was hiding. In the absolute furthest corner of the house. After my relief wore off, it hit me.
The furthest corner of the house. THEY WALKED THROUGH THE ENTIRE HOUSE. Oh, damn. They walked past the not finished home improvements, waded through two years of outgrown clothes that have now become strewn all over the upstairs, and navigated around the huge box that contains Emily's new desk - also graffitied by Declan with about two dozen drawings of the Pringles guy. Shit!!!!!!!
I called The Husband in terror that before I could home, DHS would be there removing my son from the care of his incapable mother. He patiently reminded me that Will has four kids of his own, and Geoff is currently remodeling his house so actually living in the basement. "They aren't judging."
Whatever. This obviously all happened because of the cake. That he bought. Damn it.
I was going over with Declan where he could have made some different choices that day, and I asked him what he learned.
"That 911 really works." Indeed.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Forcefields Aren't Just for Superheroes
Declan: "Mom! Isa's can of soda shocked me! When I touched it it shocked me hard! It hurts."
Isabella (to herself in the background): "That's amazing! This soda has built-in brother repelllant! I'm gonna have to get this one again..."
Isabella (to herself in the background): "That's amazing! This soda has built-in brother repelllant! I'm gonna have to get this one again..."
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Trauma
I have been able to live in denial up until now about my advancing age. I was able to conveniently blame almost everything on childbirth and motherhood. That blissful state ended today. I couldn't figure out what it was, but something in my nose was bothering me like hell. The air is still pretty dry in our house, so I figured it was one of those super-hard boogers and tried to blow it out all day. To no avail. In desperation, I stuck tweezers up my nostril, grabbed what I could and pulled.
The good news is that my nose doesn't bother me anymore. The bad news is that what came out wasn't a booger. It was a nose hair. Not so bad right?
Wrong!!
It was approximately an inch long. And GRAY!! What the effing hell??? Thoroughly traumatized, I plan to crawl right back into my shell of denial. It didn't happen. I don't have gray hair. I don't have stupid long old woman nose hair.
How awesome is it that boogers are the most acceptable option? Harumph. I must go shout at kids on my lawn now.
The good news is that my nose doesn't bother me anymore. The bad news is that what came out wasn't a booger. It was a nose hair. Not so bad right?
Wrong!!
It was approximately an inch long. And GRAY!! What the effing hell??? Thoroughly traumatized, I plan to crawl right back into my shell of denial. It didn't happen. I don't have gray hair. I don't have stupid long old woman nose hair.
How awesome is it that boogers are the most acceptable option? Harumph. I must go shout at kids on my lawn now.
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