"Are you doubting yourself again?"
This is what my boss said to me yesterday as I pow-wowed with my favorite co-worker of all time. I was working on a project. A large, complex and highly obnoxious project. Now, remember, I love my job. I do! I love waking up every morning because I get to work/play with people that I admire, respect and best of, like. My work family, they're the best.
But, "Are you doubting yourself again?"
It really got me thinking. At that moment, I wasn't doubting myself, I was just working through some details. So, yay me! But he was right, I doubt myself.
I doubt myself.
And inevitably, that doubt grows teeth and claws and morphs into a ravaging beast. Or, as it's better known, worry.
I worry that I'm a bad wife. I worry that I am too critical of my husband. Or that I'm not affectionate enough. Or that I exclude him or ignore him. I worry that I'm selfish and petty. I worry that I'm not beautiful enough.
I worry that I'm an awful friend. I'm pretty sure that I have a tendency to be a hermit. I worry that I don't contribute to my friendships. I worry that I'm a one-way street. I worry that I either say too much or too little. I worry that I don't reach out or that I don't see others reaching out to me.
I worry about being a lame-ass employee. I worry that I'm too sarcastic and mouthy. I worry that I don't do enough. Or that I do too much. I worry that I have a tendency to react, not act.
But most of all, I worry that I'm a terrible mom. Am I too strict or not strict enough? I worry that I'm mean-spirited and am teaching my girls to be mean-spirited. I worry that I'm completely inappropriate and rude. I worry that I put too much pressure on them or expect too much. I worry that my standards are too high. I worry that I model a horrible human being and am influencing them to be the same. I worry that I say too much or not enough. I'm sure I yell too much. I worry that I can't find the balance between smothering them and giving them their space.I think I need them too much and that I don't want them to have their secrets. I worry that I'm too nosy. I worry that I just suck.
I think, as women, we are naturally inclined to worry. We worry and we "mother" and we tend to those around us. Even if they don't want us to. Even if we aren't good at it. Is it because we are biologically and chemically wired to do so? Is it because that's the role that society tells us we have to play? Is it because our brains never shut up? NEVER. SHUT. UP. In trying to shut our brains up, do we fill our lives completely and stay busy, busy, busy?
I swore I would never be my mother. She's a great woman, don't get me wrong. But she is non-confrontational and I think that leads her to be taken advantage of. Before you get a mental picture, let me set the stage. My mom taught Kindergarten for 25 years. She was an amazing teacher. People placed their kids on lists to get into her class. Her students loved her and she loved her students. By the time she retired, she was teaching second and third generations of some of her original students. She is well known and well-loved by her peers, her students and her community. If I knew what was good for me, I would aspire to be like her. But I don't and I'll tell you why. She's under appreciated by the man who should cherish her as the most precious thing he could possibly get his hands on. But most horribly, she was under appreciated and not respected by someone who should have known better. Me. It's true, I didn't respect her. I thought she was ignorant and oblivious. I didn't ask for or graciously receive advice or direction from her. I separated myself from my family and shut them out of my life. I was a bitch. A rotten, selfish, nasty bitch.
So, I decided that wouldn't happen in my house. I was involved early on with the girls. I knew their friends. I spent time with them. A lot of time. As much as I could. I still do! I asked tough questions. Seriously, it isn't unheard of for me to ask things like, "So, are you having sex?" "Are you you doing drugs?" "Have you tried alcohol". Out of the blue and totally unexpected. I'm not afraid to ask the questions and have uncomfortable conversations. It's far more likely for the girls to be embarrassed by hard questions than me.
But in the midst of these teen years, I find myself constantly second guessing decisions and things I say. I worry that I'm saying too much of the wrong thing and not enough of the right thing.
I doubt myself.
What's the solution? Is there one? Am I alone? How do I be a better wife, mom, friend? A better person?
Anyone?
Showing posts with label The Girls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Girls. Show all posts
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
On being the change
A word to the wise. And by wise, I mean my children...so when I say "wise", I'm using it in the broadest sense possible.
If I see the need to go to bat for you or otherwise address a screaming issue on your behalf, just let me.
Really...just let me.
I've never been one to ignore shit that's wrong or let anyone or anything roll over me, so logic will tell you that if someone or something needs some mom attention, I'm your girl.
Being a sheep or ignoring wrong because you don't want to "cause trouble" or because it doesn't directly affect you has never worked out well. Just check your history books.
Change doesn't come on its own my young Padawans, it needs voices and if we can't be those voices, who will?
If I see the need to go to bat for you or otherwise address a screaming issue on your behalf, just let me.
Really...just let me.
I've never been one to ignore shit that's wrong or let anyone or anything roll over me, so logic will tell you that if someone or something needs some mom attention, I'm your girl.
Being a sheep or ignoring wrong because you don't want to "cause trouble" or because it doesn't directly affect you has never worked out well. Just check your history books.
Change doesn't come on its own my young Padawans, it needs voices and if we can't be those voices, who will?
Monday, January 6, 2014
The future looms
Today, a rare and wonderful thing has happened. I am at home. Alone. Ahhh, bliss. The minions went back to school this morning, and I don't mind telling you that 6:00 am came horrifically early. I, however, don't have to return to work until Wednesday. Wednesday! As of this minute, I have had my coffee, taken a nap, showered and folded some laundry. I have a list a mile long of things I need to do, but fully intend to do as little as possible for the remainder of the day.
My day of luxury did get me thinking...what in the world am I going to do with myself when my girls are gone? I do work and I have a small circle of friends, but will that really fill my time? I highly doubt it. The Mr. works all the time and my family doesn't live close by, so who am I going to play with?
Apparently, I need some more hobbies...
I'll start a list:
Things I like to do that may possibly fill my hours when I become alone and crotchety
I like to read. However, this is a solitary endeavor.
Blogging. Again, best done alone.
I am a gamer. Did you know? Don't worry, the girls didn't suspect it either. Sadly, this is another activity that doesn't require company.
I love Disneyland. Maybe, I could move there and play with the guests every day.
Traveling makes me happy. I better start saving my money, yeah?
I am a fan of volunteering, but one can't volunteer every spare hour...right?
I like taking pictures. Maybe, I'll take some photography classes.
I also want to finish a book (at some point). Maybe I'll take some creative writing/publishing classes.
That's really all I've got... Not very encouraging, is it?
*sigh*
My day of luxury did get me thinking...what in the world am I going to do with myself when my girls are gone? I do work and I have a small circle of friends, but will that really fill my time? I highly doubt it. The Mr. works all the time and my family doesn't live close by, so who am I going to play with?
Apparently, I need some more hobbies...
I'll start a list:
Things I like to do that may possibly fill my hours when I become alone and crotchety
I like to read. However, this is a solitary endeavor.
Blogging. Again, best done alone.
I am a gamer. Did you know? Don't worry, the girls didn't suspect it either. Sadly, this is another activity that doesn't require company.
I love Disneyland. Maybe, I could move there and play with the guests every day.
Traveling makes me happy. I better start saving my money, yeah?
I am a fan of volunteering, but one can't volunteer every spare hour...right?
I like taking pictures. Maybe, I'll take some photography classes.
I also want to finish a book (at some point). Maybe I'll take some creative writing/publishing classes.
That's really all I've got... Not very encouraging, is it?
*sigh*
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
A letter to my daughters
Things I want my daughters to know:
Plan for the future but enjoy each day and live it for all its worth.
High school is nothing like the real world. Sure, there are always going to be "popular" people, but in reality, you all get thrown to the sharks. The trick is not to know how to BE a shark or to avoid being eaten by a shark but to know how to swim with them
Be yourself. Who cares about what everyone else is doing. Be who makes you happy.
Take your education seriously. I don't mean for you not to have any fun, but how you do in high school counts. If you intend to go on to higher education, be prepared. Make them WANT you.
Don't let the boys get you down. If a boy can't appreciate who you are and value you as a human being, show him the door.
Stand tall and proud. Look people in the eye. Make them remember you.
Explore everything. Try acting and dancing and sports and school clubs. Listen to opera and swing music. Read biographies and historical fiction and classics. This is how you find your niche.
Keep a journal. You don't ever have to read it but it's therapeutic to write stuff down. Your hopes and dreams and fears and frustrations. Write it down and walk away. It's the journal's problem now.
Keep your friends close. While it's important to have a wide circle of people you are friendly with, it's even more important to have a tiny circle of people you are friends with. These are your "people". Keep them close.
If you don't know "who you are", don't worry. Your purpose will reveal itself with time. And when it does, you are going to change the world.
Don't be afraid to look foolish or to make mistakes...this is how we learn.
Drama bullshit is just that. Bullshit. That's all I have to say about that.
Rock your own style. Set your own trends. You are not a sheep.
Put your family first. Your family will be the ones cheering you on, wiping your tears, tending your wounds. Your family is in your corner, watching your back. We can't fight your battles for you, but you can be damn sure we can be your war council.
Smile. Smile often and without abandon. Not only is it good for you, it makes people wonder what you're up to.
Learn how to say no. Being the "Go To Girl" isn't a bad thing but people can and will suck you dry. Learn your limits and stick to them.
Look for the beauty in people, chances are you'll find it. If you can't find beauty, walk away. Don't let someone else's ugliness drag you down.
Be self reliant. Know how to take care of your car and use power tools. Be financially savvy and business smart.
Be responsible for your actions. Don't pass the buck.
Make people want to model your work ethic. Work quickly, efficiently and with the highest quality possible.
Respect yourself and others.
Never, ever give up.
And most important...Always remember that you are loved.
Plan for the future but enjoy each day and live it for all its worth.
High school is nothing like the real world. Sure, there are always going to be "popular" people, but in reality, you all get thrown to the sharks. The trick is not to know how to BE a shark or to avoid being eaten by a shark but to know how to swim with them
Be yourself. Who cares about what everyone else is doing. Be who makes you happy.
Take your education seriously. I don't mean for you not to have any fun, but how you do in high school counts. If you intend to go on to higher education, be prepared. Make them WANT you.
Don't let the boys get you down. If a boy can't appreciate who you are and value you as a human being, show him the door.
Stand tall and proud. Look people in the eye. Make them remember you.
Explore everything. Try acting and dancing and sports and school clubs. Listen to opera and swing music. Read biographies and historical fiction and classics. This is how you find your niche.
Keep a journal. You don't ever have to read it but it's therapeutic to write stuff down. Your hopes and dreams and fears and frustrations. Write it down and walk away. It's the journal's problem now.
Keep your friends close. While it's important to have a wide circle of people you are friendly with, it's even more important to have a tiny circle of people you are friends with. These are your "people". Keep them close.
If you don't know "who you are", don't worry. Your purpose will reveal itself with time. And when it does, you are going to change the world.
Don't be afraid to look foolish or to make mistakes...this is how we learn.
Drama bullshit is just that. Bullshit. That's all I have to say about that.
Rock your own style. Set your own trends. You are not a sheep.
Put your family first. Your family will be the ones cheering you on, wiping your tears, tending your wounds. Your family is in your corner, watching your back. We can't fight your battles for you, but you can be damn sure we can be your war council.
Smile. Smile often and without abandon. Not only is it good for you, it makes people wonder what you're up to.
Learn how to say no. Being the "Go To Girl" isn't a bad thing but people can and will suck you dry. Learn your limits and stick to them.
Look for the beauty in people, chances are you'll find it. If you can't find beauty, walk away. Don't let someone else's ugliness drag you down.
Be self reliant. Know how to take care of your car and use power tools. Be financially savvy and business smart.
Be responsible for your actions. Don't pass the buck.
Make people want to model your work ethic. Work quickly, efficiently and with the highest quality possible.
Respect yourself and others.
Never, ever give up.
And most important...Always remember that you are loved.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Do these x-rays make me look fat?
I was at my chiropractor's office last week and he took some spinal x-rays. At the time, I thought...cool! I get to see my bones and my skull and my teeth. I could then bring an image into my mind of using those teeth to snarl and gnash things (like math books and stupid people) and could picture myself doing a skeleton lurch around town scaring the hell out of people.
Yes, I have an active imagination.
Anyway, I went back to his office this week to discuss the x-rays and, if needed, form a plan of action for treatment. So, I sit down in front of his HUGE light box with Little Bit right beside me and my mom behind me. Weird? Yes, but Little Bit loves science-y things and my mom was...just curious. So, I'm sitting there, overflowing with excitement! My skeleton! My badass bones, out there, showing off their mad clacky skills! He dims the lights, he flips the switch on the lightbox.
And there is my body. In all its naked glory.
Yes, you read that right. It wasn't just my super awesome skeleton. It was my skeleton plus some bumps and rolls and bulges. As in, my belly flab and fatback. There was even the faint outline of my silhouette. Lumps and all.
Really?
All I wanted were my clacky bones and what I got was my tubby skeleton. Who even knew skeletons could BE fat? Not me. Every skeleton I've ever seen was stick thin. A walking skeleton, if you will.
Did you see what I did there? A "walking skeleton"? No? Never mind.
So, I'm sitting there trying to listen to my chiropractor explain what he found but in reality, all I can think about is this...My skeleton has a belly roll. Then I started thinking about the airport. People at the airport are fully aware that my skeleton has a belly roll. AND, have seen the outline of "The Girls". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why clothes were invented? So our naughty bits wouldn't be on display for all the world to see? But oh no, airline security can see everything. Belly rolls, fatback, boobies.
Awesome.
Then, to cap it all off, Little Bit wants to know, "Mom, can we take some pictures of your x-rays?"
Why, you ask? She wants to bring them to school to show her class.
Uh, no. No, you can't.
Good times.
Yes, I have an active imagination.
Anyway, I went back to his office this week to discuss the x-rays and, if needed, form a plan of action for treatment. So, I sit down in front of his HUGE light box with Little Bit right beside me and my mom behind me. Weird? Yes, but Little Bit loves science-y things and my mom was...just curious. So, I'm sitting there, overflowing with excitement! My skeleton! My badass bones, out there, showing off their mad clacky skills! He dims the lights, he flips the switch on the lightbox.
And there is my body. In all its naked glory.
Yes, you read that right. It wasn't just my super awesome skeleton. It was my skeleton plus some bumps and rolls and bulges. As in, my belly flab and fatback. There was even the faint outline of my silhouette. Lumps and all.
Really?
All I wanted were my clacky bones and what I got was my tubby skeleton. Who even knew skeletons could BE fat? Not me. Every skeleton I've ever seen was stick thin. A walking skeleton, if you will.
Did you see what I did there? A "walking skeleton"? No? Never mind.
So, I'm sitting there trying to listen to my chiropractor explain what he found but in reality, all I can think about is this...My skeleton has a belly roll. Then I started thinking about the airport. People at the airport are fully aware that my skeleton has a belly roll. AND, have seen the outline of "The Girls". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why clothes were invented? So our naughty bits wouldn't be on display for all the world to see? But oh no, airline security can see everything. Belly rolls, fatback, boobies.
Awesome.
Then, to cap it all off, Little Bit wants to know, "Mom, can we take some pictures of your x-rays?"
Why, you ask? She wants to bring them to school to show her class.
Uh, no. No, you can't.
Good times.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
And we go round and round...
I have isolated the problem with our health care system. Seriously.
We have been very fortunate to have the girls covered under Healthy Families since they were born. The Mr and I don't have coverage...but that's a post for another day ;). Anyway, it's that time of year when we have to renew our application for coverage. Since we are self-employed, we have to submit different paperwork than your average bear. We have to provide something called a Profit and Loss Statement. Now, I won't bore you with the details (you're welcome), but I will tell you that through this process, I have discovered the root of all bureaucratic red-tape evil. It's stupidity. True story.
Ready?
At the bottom of our Profit and Loss Statement, we have to certify that we aren't pulling Big Brother's leg. We have to say something like, "The information provided is true to the full extent of my knowledge". Sounds pretty simple, right?
Nooooooooo.........
Here is what I submitted, a month ago...
"The information provided is correct to the full extent of my knowledge"
Pretty stellar word choice, right? Apparently, the Powers That Be took exception to my beautiful declaration and said that I have to include "above". Because clearly, when you include a statement about money shit on the same page as your money shit, there can be some confusion about what you're referring to. Perhaps, I was certifying that all the invisible numbers were true and you just had to use your imagination to see them.
So, I sent them this, "The information provided ABOVE is correct to the full extent of my knowledge". Bueno! Nope...no bueno. 2 weeks later, I receive a notification that the coverage will expire because they asked for paperwork and I didn't provide it. Huh.
So, I called and politely asked, "Really? What the fuck is the problem this time?"
I guess I'm shady as fuck and can't be trusted, because the word "true" just won't cut it. Now, I have to say "true and correct". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't they mean the same thing in a general sense? I mean, really...You can't say something is true if it isn't correct and you can't claim something is correct if it isn't true. Right? Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but come now, this is ridiculous.
So, I faxed them this, "The information provided ABOVE is TRUE and CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge!!!!" Yes, I used CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS. Dammit.
But, really, here's what I wanted to say, "The fucking information provided ABOVE is TRUE and fucking CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge, Assholes."
But I didn't.
We have been very fortunate to have the girls covered under Healthy Families since they were born. The Mr and I don't have coverage...but that's a post for another day ;). Anyway, it's that time of year when we have to renew our application for coverage. Since we are self-employed, we have to submit different paperwork than your average bear. We have to provide something called a Profit and Loss Statement. Now, I won't bore you with the details (you're welcome), but I will tell you that through this process, I have discovered the root of all bureaucratic red-tape evil. It's stupidity. True story.
Ready?
At the bottom of our Profit and Loss Statement, we have to certify that we aren't pulling Big Brother's leg. We have to say something like, "The information provided is true to the full extent of my knowledge". Sounds pretty simple, right?
Nooooooooo.........
Here is what I submitted, a month ago...
"The information provided is correct to the full extent of my knowledge"
Pretty stellar word choice, right? Apparently, the Powers That Be took exception to my beautiful declaration and said that I have to include "above". Because clearly, when you include a statement about money shit on the same page as your money shit, there can be some confusion about what you're referring to. Perhaps, I was certifying that all the invisible numbers were true and you just had to use your imagination to see them.
So, I sent them this, "The information provided ABOVE is correct to the full extent of my knowledge". Bueno! Nope...no bueno. 2 weeks later, I receive a notification that the coverage will expire because they asked for paperwork and I didn't provide it. Huh.
So, I called and politely asked, "Really? What the fuck is the problem this time?"
I guess I'm shady as fuck and can't be trusted, because the word "true" just won't cut it. Now, I have to say "true and correct". Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't they mean the same thing in a general sense? I mean, really...You can't say something is true if it isn't correct and you can't claim something is correct if it isn't true. Right? Maybe I'm splitting hairs here, but come now, this is ridiculous.
So, I faxed them this, "The information provided ABOVE is TRUE and CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge!!!!" Yes, I used CAPS and EXCLAMATION POINTS. Dammit.
But, really, here's what I wanted to say, "The fucking information provided ABOVE is TRUE and fucking CORRECT to the full extent of my knowledge, Assholes."
But I didn't.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Ants, laundry and being thankful
I have been waging a great battle. Seriously, I am currently engaged with a vast and menacing army and I don't think I'm winning. The Great Ant Battle is currently underway in my house. Ants makes me homicidal. True story. As of right now, my kitchen is torn apart because there were ants in my butter dish, on the dishes, the paper towels and in the silverware drawer. They are also hanging out in the bathrooms and wandering around Little Bit's dresser. Why they were crawling all over the extra paper towels and trooping across the top of the dresser, I'll never know. Hey, I never said ants were smart.
Anyway...
Like I said, ants makes me homicidal and being homicidal is pretty much a negative thing. As I was thinking about my blog today, I thought...I'm going to blog about the stupid ants! That will show the little bastards! But then, I remembered that ants don't have access to the internet and even if they did, I'm pretty sure they can't read.
Sooo.....
I decided to go against my deepest, darkest feelings and blog about things I'm thankful for.
Ready?
I am thankful for ants in my butter...because this means I have food in my kitchen.
I am thankful for a broken dishwasher...because this means I have dirty plates due to my kids getting to eat every day.
I am thankful for ants in the bathrooms...because this means we have indoor plumbing.
I am thankful for bills...because this means my family has a roof over our heads.
I am thankful for piles of laundry...because this means that my family has clothes on their backs.
I am thankful the stupid signs my neighbor puts in her yard...because this means our neighborhood is a safe place for kids to hang out and play.
I am thankful for ridiculous gas prices...because this means I have a car to put gas into.
I am thankful for the obscene cell phone bill my daughter ran up...because this means she has dear friends to talk to.
I am thankful for my alarm clock...because this means I have purpose every day.
I am thankful my husband works 6 days a week...because this means my family is provided for.
Did you see what I did there? Normally, I would just bitch, bitch, bitch about this stuff. But today, today, I choose joy and thankfulness.
Anyway...
Like I said, ants makes me homicidal and being homicidal is pretty much a negative thing. As I was thinking about my blog today, I thought...I'm going to blog about the stupid ants! That will show the little bastards! But then, I remembered that ants don't have access to the internet and even if they did, I'm pretty sure they can't read.
Sooo.....
I decided to go against my deepest, darkest feelings and blog about things I'm thankful for.
Ready?
I am thankful for ants in my butter...because this means I have food in my kitchen.
I am thankful for a broken dishwasher...because this means I have dirty plates due to my kids getting to eat every day.
I am thankful for ants in the bathrooms...because this means we have indoor plumbing.
I am thankful for bills...because this means my family has a roof over our heads.
I am thankful for piles of laundry...because this means that my family has clothes on their backs.
I am thankful the stupid signs my neighbor puts in her yard...because this means our neighborhood is a safe place for kids to hang out and play.
I am thankful for ridiculous gas prices...because this means I have a car to put gas into.
I am thankful for the obscene cell phone bill my daughter ran up...because this means she has dear friends to talk to.
I am thankful for my alarm clock...because this means I have purpose every day.
I am thankful my husband works 6 days a week...because this means my family is provided for.
Did you see what I did there? Normally, I would just bitch, bitch, bitch about this stuff. But today, today, I choose joy and thankfulness.
Friday, October 26, 2012
In which I ease my mom's worries
We are leaving for a Disney Cruise in 2 days! I'm super excited about it...so excited, in fact, that I decided to make a schedule for my mom because as moms are wont to do, she likes knowing where we are and what we're doing. I think this should ease her mind and allow her to know that we are safe and having fun!
The Sique’s Epic Adventure at Sea or…In Which We Run Away to be Pirates
Day 1 - October 28, 2012
All Aboard by 4:00 pm (Tito mentioned something about a strip poker game. But I’m sure he was kidding.)
Day 2 - October 29, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Swim With the Dolphins” day. I hope we can keep up with the ship because according to the Pirates Code, “Whoever falls behind, stays behind.”
Day 3 - October 30, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Job Switching” on the Disney Wonder. It’s a special time in which the guests and the crew switch places for the day. It should be a real learning experience! I hope they make me Captain.
Day 4 - October 31, 2012 (Puerto Vallarta)
Today we have planned a great day at a spa. It’s called “Cosechamos los órganos de forma gratuita!”. I think it means, We play organs while you harvest your free spirit! Sounds pretty amazing, right?
Day 5 - November 1, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
Today we plan to drop the girls off at a local school so they can learn something new and appreciate what they have at home. Then, Tito and I plan to see some local color. This may include the nearest cosmetic surgeon, a brothel and possibly the dentist. Super excited!
Day 6 - November 2, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
This is our “Anything Goes” day. Discuss.
Day 7 - November 3, 2012 (at sea)
This day is solely reserved for drinking, dancing and carrying on. And some water skiing. But that’s not definite because the waters may or may not be shark infested.
Day 8 - November 4, 2012
All ashore by 9:30 am. I’m sure we will have made some new friends. Looking forward to sharing our trip with you but I hope you won’t need a kidney anytime soon because Tito is a little unsure about the spa. I bet it’s fine though.
The Sique’s Epic Adventure at Sea or…In Which We Run Away to be Pirates
Day 1 - October 28, 2012
All Aboard by 4:00 pm (Tito mentioned something about a strip poker game. But I’m sure he was kidding.)
Day 2 - October 29, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Swim With the Dolphins” day. I hope we can keep up with the ship because according to the Pirates Code, “Whoever falls behind, stays behind.”
Day 3 - October 30, 2012 (at sea)
Today is “Job Switching” on the Disney Wonder. It’s a special time in which the guests and the crew switch places for the day. It should be a real learning experience! I hope they make me Captain.
Day 4 - October 31, 2012 (Puerto Vallarta)
Today we have planned a great day at a spa. It’s called “Cosechamos los órganos de forma gratuita!”. I think it means, We play organs while you harvest your free spirit! Sounds pretty amazing, right?
Day 5 - November 1, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
Today we plan to drop the girls off at a local school so they can learn something new and appreciate what they have at home. Then, Tito and I plan to see some local color. This may include the nearest cosmetic surgeon, a brothel and possibly the dentist. Super excited!
Day 6 - November 2, 2012 (Cabo San Lucas)
This is our “Anything Goes” day. Discuss.
Day 7 - November 3, 2012 (at sea)
This day is solely reserved for drinking, dancing and carrying on. And some water skiing. But that’s not definite because the waters may or may not be shark infested.
Day 8 - November 4, 2012
All ashore by 9:30 am. I’m sure we will have made some new friends. Looking forward to sharing our trip with you but I hope you won’t need a kidney anytime soon because Tito is a little unsure about the spa. I bet it’s fine though.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Shoplifters, Yoda and The One
Today is a special day. Today, I'm giving a big shout out to all the thieves and shoplifters out there. Now, before you become indignant, let me tell you a little story.
It starts innocently enough, the family and I headed out to the Mall to do some back-to-school shopping. We found a great deal on backpacks. Yay! As usual, The Mr. escaped to the TV section (the big baby), which happens to be right next to the bra section. In hindsight, I realize that this is, in fact, great marketing at work. Think about it, you're a man, your lady wants to look at pretty panties, "Babe, aren't these cute?". You're as cornered as a rat in a barrel. Suddenly, you see out of the corner of your eye, your White Knight. He beckons you, "Come toward the light!" You find yourself drawn like a moth to a flame, "Yeah, those are great. I'm just going to look over here...". Your lady is blissfully unaware that you have abandoned her (cardinal sin, gents) and you get to stand, slack jawed before a huge bank of TV magic.
It's a win-win.
Anyway, I left The Mr. drooling over TVs big enough to fill a wall and went in search of the ever elusive Comfortable, yet Flattering Bra. Perhaps you've heard of it. I've heard whispers, rumors..."It's true, I say. My mother's cousin knows a bartender that has a roommate who met a girl at the bank who swears that she has one! It's real!" I decided that today was my day, I was going to find this Mythical Beast. Onward!
I searched high and low, pulling style after style, color after color. The tags shouted at me, "Best Bra Ever!", "No Pinch Underwire!", "The Best Kept Secret!", "Mega Pushup!". Oh, the sensory overload. I gathered my wits about me and headed to the fitting room with an armload, thinking, "One of these has to be The One."
Things started out fairly tame. Not The One, but nothing weird either. Which, ladies, you KNOW is important when we are seeking the Care and Maintenance of "The Girls". Then, it happens.
The security device.
Don't get me wrong, I completely understand stores using these and don't disparage them for it. However, I definitely have a problem with where they have decided to attach them. Could it be on the strap, where it wouldn't interfere with the fit? No. How about on the upper area of the cup where, while it may feel awkward, wouldn't really be that big of a deal? No.
No.
The security device is on the back. Right on the clasp. Because that's THEE perfect spot to put a large, bulky plastic thing. It's so incredibly easy to reach behind you and blindly try to fasten your bra clasp when there's a plastic bulge the size of Australia. Not. If, by some miracle, you get the damn thing fastened against all odds, now you're faced with a different problem. When a woman is trying on her most important piece of clothing, it's important that it be seamless and comfortable, right? Well, nothing says comfort like Australia digging into your back. I wish ALL bras had Australia somewhere on them, it would make life much more interesting and our clothes would look just that much better on us.
So, while I was trying to appreciate the bra that may well be The One, I was also cursing shoplifters everywhere because thanks to their errant ways and general misbehavior, I got to stand in front of a fitting room mirror (or as it's more commonly know, the Fun House Mirror) and try to ignore Australia hunching on my back like Yoda. So thanks, all you rotten shoplifters, you made my day,
I did prevail, I found The One. I skipped back over to the TV section where not only was my husband still drooling over the big screens, my daughters were standing in front of a 3D TV with 3D glasses on looking like little zombies. As special thank you for "shopping" with me, I let The Mr. pay for The One. Good times.
Remember ladies, when you're faced with roadblocks on your search for The One. Don't despair. Don't give up. You too, can conquer Australia.
"Do or do not, there is no try" - Yoda
It starts innocently enough, the family and I headed out to the Mall to do some back-to-school shopping. We found a great deal on backpacks. Yay! As usual, The Mr. escaped to the TV section (the big baby), which happens to be right next to the bra section. In hindsight, I realize that this is, in fact, great marketing at work. Think about it, you're a man, your lady wants to look at pretty panties, "Babe, aren't these cute?". You're as cornered as a rat in a barrel. Suddenly, you see out of the corner of your eye, your White Knight. He beckons you, "Come toward the light!" You find yourself drawn like a moth to a flame, "Yeah, those are great. I'm just going to look over here...". Your lady is blissfully unaware that you have abandoned her (cardinal sin, gents) and you get to stand, slack jawed before a huge bank of TV magic.
It's a win-win.
Anyway, I left The Mr. drooling over TVs big enough to fill a wall and went in search of the ever elusive Comfortable, yet Flattering Bra. Perhaps you've heard of it. I've heard whispers, rumors..."It's true, I say. My mother's cousin knows a bartender that has a roommate who met a girl at the bank who swears that she has one! It's real!" I decided that today was my day, I was going to find this Mythical Beast. Onward!
I searched high and low, pulling style after style, color after color. The tags shouted at me, "Best Bra Ever!", "No Pinch Underwire!", "The Best Kept Secret!", "Mega Pushup!". Oh, the sensory overload. I gathered my wits about me and headed to the fitting room with an armload, thinking, "One of these has to be The One."
Things started out fairly tame. Not The One, but nothing weird either. Which, ladies, you KNOW is important when we are seeking the Care and Maintenance of "The Girls". Then, it happens.
The security device.
Don't get me wrong, I completely understand stores using these and don't disparage them for it. However, I definitely have a problem with where they have decided to attach them. Could it be on the strap, where it wouldn't interfere with the fit? No. How about on the upper area of the cup where, while it may feel awkward, wouldn't really be that big of a deal? No.
No.
The security device is on the back. Right on the clasp. Because that's THEE perfect spot to put a large, bulky plastic thing. It's so incredibly easy to reach behind you and blindly try to fasten your bra clasp when there's a plastic bulge the size of Australia. Not. If, by some miracle, you get the damn thing fastened against all odds, now you're faced with a different problem. When a woman is trying on her most important piece of clothing, it's important that it be seamless and comfortable, right? Well, nothing says comfort like Australia digging into your back. I wish ALL bras had Australia somewhere on them, it would make life much more interesting and our clothes would look just that much better on us.
So, while I was trying to appreciate the bra that may well be The One, I was also cursing shoplifters everywhere because thanks to their errant ways and general misbehavior, I got to stand in front of a fitting room mirror (or as it's more commonly know, the Fun House Mirror) and try to ignore Australia hunching on my back like Yoda. So thanks, all you rotten shoplifters, you made my day,
I did prevail, I found The One. I skipped back over to the TV section where not only was my husband still drooling over the big screens, my daughters were standing in front of a 3D TV with 3D glasses on looking like little zombies. As special thank you for "shopping" with me, I let The Mr. pay for The One. Good times.
Remember ladies, when you're faced with roadblocks on your search for The One. Don't despair. Don't give up. You too, can conquer Australia.
"Do or do not, there is no try" - Yoda
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Great Bikini Debate
I took the girls to Target today and this is what my list looked like:
Just as a side note, we did not arrive at this section for me because not only will I refuse to try on a swimsuit unless I have just ingested copious amounts of alcohol, I'm pretty sure they don't carry what I would be in the market for. I know this because the last time I checked, Target doesn't sell rain ponchos in fun, flirty colors and seeing as how I generally eat too much candy and Pringles, this is all I am willing to subject the general public too.
Moving on.
My oldest is 13 and is entering that special time in her life where she could wear a burlap sack (or a rain poncho in fun, flirty colors) and still look gorgeous and disturbingly attractive. Every year, she wages the Great Bikini Debate and presents all the reasons why she should be allowed to purchase and wear a bikini. Did you notice the wine on my list? In the interest of fair play, I agreed to let her try on some bikinis.
Fuck.
I just can't get on board with the picture of my baby girl prancing around wearing smaller versions of what she wears under her real clothes every day. I'm talking underwear, people! The suit parts were smaller than her underwear. Smaller, slinkier, sexier...pick your adjective. Whatever you want to go with, the reality is that if I relented in the face of the Great Bikini Debate, I would be endorsing the irreversible action of my beautiful girl gallivanting around in glorified underwear.
This, I cannot do. Why? Because I'm pretty sure that if she arrived at the pool wearing something of this nature, what had started as an innocent Jr. High pool party would swiftly come to resemble something out of Girls Gone Wild or an episode of Campus PD. If you think I want to be responsible for that kind of catastrophe, you better think again.
Lesson of the day, you want to turn Happy Mom into Raging Lunatic Mom all you need to do is stick me in a dressing room and parade my daughter in front of me wearing shoe strings and a doily.
On the upside, I got some peanut butter M & M's to tide me over until it's time to drink.
- Wine
- Cotton balls
- Birthday present for Little Bit's teacher (Who is absolutely amazing by the way. But you can't have her because she's ours. Ours, I say!)
- Camera case (For my beautiful new Nikon camera who has been christened Idris which is a Doctor Who thing and if you don't get it then not only do I feel unendingly sorry for you but it's very well possible I might make slanderous comments in your presence or even just flat out refuse to associate with you.)
- Wine
- Lotion
- Swiffer Wet Jet thingys
- Wine (This is a good thing...read on and you'll see why)
- Cotton balls (Looks promising!)
- Candy
- Pringles (These were definitely not on the list because as we all know, you can't have just one and quite frankly if my ass gets any bigger it's going to require its own zip code.)
- Easter socks from the $1 section (Now, these were for me and I love them. Don't judge me.)
- Wine (Did I note that twice? Huh. Fancy that.)
- Camera case (Yay!)
Just as a side note, we did not arrive at this section for me because not only will I refuse to try on a swimsuit unless I have just ingested copious amounts of alcohol, I'm pretty sure they don't carry what I would be in the market for. I know this because the last time I checked, Target doesn't sell rain ponchos in fun, flirty colors and seeing as how I generally eat too much candy and Pringles, this is all I am willing to subject the general public too.
Moving on.
My oldest is 13 and is entering that special time in her life where she could wear a burlap sack (or a rain poncho in fun, flirty colors) and still look gorgeous and disturbingly attractive. Every year, she wages the Great Bikini Debate and presents all the reasons why she should be allowed to purchase and wear a bikini. Did you notice the wine on my list? In the interest of fair play, I agreed to let her try on some bikinis.
Fuck.
I just can't get on board with the picture of my baby girl prancing around wearing smaller versions of what she wears under her real clothes every day. I'm talking underwear, people! The suit parts were smaller than her underwear. Smaller, slinkier, sexier...pick your adjective. Whatever you want to go with, the reality is that if I relented in the face of the Great Bikini Debate, I would be endorsing the irreversible action of my beautiful girl gallivanting around in glorified underwear.
This, I cannot do. Why? Because I'm pretty sure that if she arrived at the pool wearing something of this nature, what had started as an innocent Jr. High pool party would swiftly come to resemble something out of Girls Gone Wild or an episode of Campus PD. If you think I want to be responsible for that kind of catastrophe, you better think again.
Lesson of the day, you want to turn Happy Mom into Raging Lunatic Mom all you need to do is stick me in a dressing room and parade my daughter in front of me wearing shoe strings and a doily.
On the upside, I got some peanut butter M & M's to tide me over until it's time to drink.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
R.O.U.S.!
I went into the garage to do laundry the other day. Yes, you read that right..."The Garage" because in their infinite wisdom, the contractors that built our house didn't see fit to include a laundry room inside the house. Either that or they did not consult a woman when pondering their design. So, I walked out into the 25° icebox and began the time honored tradition of filling the washing machine with other people's dirty clothes. All of a sudden, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned and there, running from the bag of cat food was a R.O.U.S.
What is a R.O.U.S., you say? Let me sum up...
See? This is what was in my garage! Okay, maybe not THIS big, but big all the same. I'm not ashamed to admit that I ran away screaming, like a little girl. I immediately shouted to The Mr., "R.O.U.S., in the garage!" What do you think he did? Nothing. He remained on the couch and asked, "Are you sure?"
Well, of course I was sure! It almost leaped at me. It nearly bit me.
Alright, maybe not the leaping and biting part, but it was there! I finally convinced him that we needed to put a trap out. A BIG trap, not some little sissy trap for little mouseys. We needed to get out the big guns. Or an elephant gun. Last night he brought home a trap and set it for the R.O.U.S. I'll keep you informed as to our epic rat hunt.
On a side note, Little Bit (who turns 10 this coming Sunday), announced this morning that she thinks we should call the government R.O.U.S.', because, "They take all our money." I'm not sure how rodents and money connect in her little pea brain, but connect they do and I have to say, I think the term is pretty fitting.
Especially today...End Piracy, Not Liberty
What is a R.O.U.S., you say? Let me sum up...
See? This is what was in my garage! Okay, maybe not THIS big, but big all the same. I'm not ashamed to admit that I ran away screaming, like a little girl. I immediately shouted to The Mr., "R.O.U.S., in the garage!" What do you think he did? Nothing. He remained on the couch and asked, "Are you sure?"
Well, of course I was sure! It almost leaped at me. It nearly bit me.
Alright, maybe not the leaping and biting part, but it was there! I finally convinced him that we needed to put a trap out. A BIG trap, not some little sissy trap for little mouseys. We needed to get out the big guns. Or an elephant gun. Last night he brought home a trap and set it for the R.O.U.S. I'll keep you informed as to our epic rat hunt.
On a side note, Little Bit (who turns 10 this coming Sunday), announced this morning that she thinks we should call the government R.O.U.S.', because, "They take all our money." I'm not sure how rodents and money connect in her little pea brain, but connect they do and I have to say, I think the term is pretty fitting.
Especially today...End Piracy, Not Liberty
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Just one more reason I drink
I had no idea that when I signed up to be a mom that I would be required to also act as warden, cop and referee. Well, the referee part I kind of expected because my sister and I were almost always at war with each other. The warden part wasn't a surprise either because in general, children tend to act like little criminals...but perhaps with not as much malice as your common criminal. But the cop part? Really? For all my enforcement, I should have a badge. And a gun. And a bullet proof vest. And a Taser gun.
What do I police, do you ask?
You name it...dirty clothes, dinner time, homework, showers, bedtime.
Bedtime in particular. How fucking hard is it to just go to bed when I ask you to? This is what generally happens in my house come bedtime.
Me: Please go shower, brush your teeth and get your jammies on.
Minion: *ominous silence*
Me: Get up and get in the shower.
Minion: I'm hungry.
Me: Move. Now.
Minion: Do I have to take a shower?
Me: Yes. Go. Now.
Minion: Do I have to go first?
Me: You do now, just for asking that. Move it.
Minion: *flounces down the hall, slams the door*
Me: Where's the wine?
40 minutes later
Me: Seriously? Get out of the shower and go to bed!
Minion: Mommmm, I am!
Me: Wine?
Minion: Why are you mad? Gah!!
Me: Shoot me.
All in all, the whole ordeal takes at least an hour. And usually ends up with me having to shadow their every move in order to make sure they are doing what they are supposed to be doing. It also ends up with one or more of them looking at me like my head is spinning around on my shoulders and asking why I'm irritated. You can't imagine? Really?
What do I police, do you ask?
You name it...dirty clothes, dinner time, homework, showers, bedtime.
Bedtime in particular. How fucking hard is it to just go to bed when I ask you to? This is what generally happens in my house come bedtime.
Me: Please go shower, brush your teeth and get your jammies on.
Minion: *ominous silence*
Me: Get up and get in the shower.
Minion: I'm hungry.
Me: Move. Now.
Minion: Do I have to take a shower?
Me: Yes. Go. Now.
Minion: Do I have to go first?
Me: You do now, just for asking that. Move it.
Minion: *flounces down the hall, slams the door*
Me: Where's the wine?
40 minutes later
Me: Seriously? Get out of the shower and go to bed!
Minion: Mommmm, I am!
Me: Wine?
Minion: Why are you mad? Gah!!
Me: Shoot me.
All in all, the whole ordeal takes at least an hour. And usually ends up with me having to shadow their every move in order to make sure they are doing what they are supposed to be doing. It also ends up with one or more of them looking at me like my head is spinning around on my shoulders and asking why I'm irritated. You can't imagine? Really?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
In which we Journal
I'm not sure how many of you have discovered Pinterest. For those of you that have, you know of its greatness and for those of you who haven't...well, either stay in the dark about it or be ready for an instant addiction!
On the down side, I am now guilty of spending a HUGE amount of time pinning and re-pinning. Huge, I tell you. I'm not even going to admit how much time I spend on there because it's almost embarrassing.
On the upside, I have tried several recipes and made several crafts from the site. I have plenty more to try but in the meantime, I'm going to let you peek at one of my favorites so far.
On the inside, I needed to cover the name, address, phone number, subject stuff. I typed up a little something, cut it down to size, then glued it in. This is what it says...
On the down side, I am now guilty of spending a HUGE amount of time pinning and re-pinning. Huge, I tell you. I'm not even going to admit how much time I spend on there because it's almost embarrassing.
On the upside, I have tried several recipes and made several crafts from the site. I have plenty more to try but in the meantime, I'm going to let you peek at one of my favorites so far.
I went to the Dollar Store and bought a composition book, whipped out some pretty scrapbook paper and cut it with some pretty scissors. Then I stenciled "you & me" and attached it to the front of the book (I used photo squares).
On the inside, I needed to cover the name, address, phone number, subject stuff. I typed up a little something, cut it down to size, then glued it in. This is what it says...
You and Me
These pages are a safe place to talk with me about anything.
Anything under the sun...
Happy thoughts
Angry thoughts
Curious thoughts
Scared thoughts
Frustrated thoughts
Dreamy thoughts
Sometimes it's hard to speak our thoughts and sometimes it's hard to find the right thing to say. Here, you can write to me anytime you want to and I will always answer.
No matter what words we might say or write to each other, always remember the most important words of all...
I LOVE YOU
I now have a journal with both my girls and I have to say, the things my 13 year old has written to me are both heartbreaking and priceless.
Heartbreaking because I remember feeling the way she feels now...Middle School sucks. Priceless because sometimes I feel that I'm doing a shitty job as a mom and it gives me great encouragement to hear that she thinks I'm pretty fine.
Composition book $1.00
Time spent creating journal 20 minutes
The opportunity to have open dialogue with my girls...Priceless.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Coffee, school and aliens
I think there's something wrong with my kids.
This morning, they were all ready for school but we still had about 10 minutes before we needed to leave. I decided to use this time wisely and by wisely I mean sitting down with my book and a cup of coffee. Right before I sat down, Zippy went to the front door and said, "Can we leave now?". No, mom needs coffee and her book.
I sat down, opened my book, breathed in the delicious, life-changing elixir of fresh coffee...
"Can we leave NOW?"
Really? I can't sit for 5 minutes and drink my coffee? Come on! It's bad enough they were hassling me but they were hassling me in order to go to school. Early! Who does this??
I never wanted to go to school. I dreamed up all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't have to go to school. But oh no, not my children. My children not only want to go, they want to go early. These same children wanted to leave Disneyland so they could go back to school. Kid. You. Not.
Disneyland.
So, the logical conclusion I have arrived at is
a) There's something wrong with them
or
b) They are, in fact, aliens.
I'm going with "b"
This morning, they were all ready for school but we still had about 10 minutes before we needed to leave. I decided to use this time wisely and by wisely I mean sitting down with my book and a cup of coffee. Right before I sat down, Zippy went to the front door and said, "Can we leave now?". No, mom needs coffee and her book.
I sat down, opened my book, breathed in the delicious, life-changing elixir of fresh coffee...
"Can we leave NOW?"
Really? I can't sit for 5 minutes and drink my coffee? Come on! It's bad enough they were hassling me but they were hassling me in order to go to school. Early! Who does this??
I never wanted to go to school. I dreamed up all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't have to go to school. But oh no, not my children. My children not only want to go, they want to go early. These same children wanted to leave Disneyland so they could go back to school. Kid. You. Not.
Disneyland.
So, the logical conclusion I have arrived at is
a) There's something wrong with them
or
b) They are, in fact, aliens.
I'm going with "b"
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
In the car or short trip to crazy land
My family took a mini vacation this Labor Day weekend. We traveled about 7 hours to Southern California and spent some time on the beach and with family. First and foremost, you need to know that I don't like the beach. I know, I know...what kind of crazy person am I? But really, sand in unfortunate places? No thank you. Anyway, The Mr. and the girls LOVE going, so I brought along a book and a chair and enjoyed the beachy weather while they swam. But that's not what I want to tell you. What I want to tell you is that strange things happen when 4 people are in a car for long periods of time. For instance...
Little Bit, "Mom, she bit me and she licked me"
Zippy, "Mom, she bit me and licked me first"
Little Bit, "Mom, she took Mr. Bumble (this is her Pillow Pet...clearly not to be touched). Let's take her to get the cheapest, ugliest pillow pet, then she won't take mine anymore"
Kid. You. Not.
I was also privileged enough to hear the Happy Nappers jingle, reasons why boys are dumb and a running monologue of Little Bit being Tour Guide Barbie for Mr. Bumble.
But seriously folks as much as I was glad to be home, we had a great time. Not as good of a time as I plan to have on my birthday trip to Disneyland with The Mr. but that's another story ;)
Little Bit, "Mom, she bit me and she licked me"
Zippy, "Mom, she bit me and licked me first"
Little Bit, "Mom, she took Mr. Bumble (this is her Pillow Pet...clearly not to be touched). Let's take her to get the cheapest, ugliest pillow pet, then she won't take mine anymore"
Kid. You. Not.
I was also privileged enough to hear the Happy Nappers jingle, reasons why boys are dumb and a running monologue of Little Bit being Tour Guide Barbie for Mr. Bumble.
But seriously folks as much as I was glad to be home, we had a great time. Not as good of a time as I plan to have on my birthday trip to Disneyland with The Mr. but that's another story ;)
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Thoughts on shaving
Day 10 (of 30ish)
Just one more reason having kids is fully awesome!
Little Bit: Mom, why do people shave their legs?
Me: Maybe to make them look and feel nice.
Little Bit: But people don't shave their arms.
Me: Nope.
Little Bit: But they shave their armpits. I wonder why?
Me: Because people don't want to be hairy monkeys.
Little Bit: I guess so.
*a very long pause*
Little Bit: People don't shave their butts either.
Me: Uh.....
Little Bit: I guess most people don't need to shave their butts because their butts are naked.
Me: That would sure explain it.
Just one more reason having kids is fully awesome!
Little Bit: Mom, why do people shave their legs?
Me: Maybe to make them look and feel nice.
Little Bit: But people don't shave their arms.
Me: Nope.
Little Bit: But they shave their armpits. I wonder why?
Me: Because people don't want to be hairy monkeys.
Little Bit: I guess so.
*a very long pause*
Little Bit: People don't shave their butts either.
Me: Uh.....
Little Bit: I guess most people don't need to shave their butts because their butts are naked.
Me: That would sure explain it.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Say what?
Day 5 (of 30ish)
Parenting brings many joys (said with extreme snarkiness). No really, joy is an every day experience! As is confusion, frustration, exasperation and just plain silliness. The girls never cease to amaze me, many of you might remember "The Great Gender Debate" as recorded here. Now, for your reading pleasure, may I present other delightful things that come out of my mouth in response to motherhood.
Things I never thought I would say. Ever.
And people wonder why my bloggy name is Ringmaster...
Parenting brings many joys (said with extreme snarkiness). No really, joy is an every day experience! As is confusion, frustration, exasperation and just plain silliness. The girls never cease to amaze me, many of you might remember "The Great Gender Debate" as recorded here. Now, for your reading pleasure, may I present other delightful things that come out of my mouth in response to motherhood.
Things I never thought I would say. Ever.
- Quit sitting in the garbage can
- If you plan on calling my daughter anytime soon, you better sit down and read a book this weekend (said to a boy who likes my daughter)
- Don't lick your sister.
- Go into the bathroom, turn the water on, take your clothes off, get in the shower, get UNDER the water. Apply soap, rinse it off, turn off the water, get out, dry off, put your clothes back on. (in response to the smarty pants who stood in the shower, fully clothed without the water on. Why, you ask? Because I told her to jump in the shower. awesome.)
And people wonder why my bloggy name is Ringmaster...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
In which Zippy begs for mercy
I am not a fan of school, I never have been. This is funny (not in a Ha Ha sort of way...more like if I don't laugh I will cry sort of way) because I am currently a college student and let's just say I am no spring chicken.
ANYWAY.
I don't like it...but my kids do. Huh.
My oldest has been sick for about a week with a nasty bronchial thing that makes her cough. Alot. This is no bueno. Especially since she has Reactive Airway Disease and colds tend to settle in her chest and stay there. So, she's been sick and I made her stay home from school yesterday. Now, any ordinary kid would be like, "Whooo Hooooo!", right? Yeah, not my kid. She was not happy with me because she had to stay home. I got the eye roll, the "Moooommmmm!", the "stare", the stomp down the hall. The whole bit. Because she couldn't go to school.
It gets even better.
Today, I took her to the Doc, just to make sure it wasn't something more serious (and it's not ☺) but our Peds Doc wanted her to stay home a few more days. Holy cow Batman, you would have thought he asked her to give her right arm! "Please, please let me go back to school, I feel fine!" So, he dutifully changed the date to tomorrow. She may have well won the lottery, she was so happy.
So, intrepid readers, I ask you...no, I can't even ask. I'm just going to go with it.
ANYWAY.
I don't like it...but my kids do. Huh.
My oldest has been sick for about a week with a nasty bronchial thing that makes her cough. Alot. This is no bueno. Especially since she has Reactive Airway Disease and colds tend to settle in her chest and stay there. So, she's been sick and I made her stay home from school yesterday. Now, any ordinary kid would be like, "Whooo Hooooo!", right? Yeah, not my kid. She was not happy with me because she had to stay home. I got the eye roll, the "Moooommmmm!", the "stare", the stomp down the hall. The whole bit. Because she couldn't go to school.
It gets even better.
Today, I took her to the Doc, just to make sure it wasn't something more serious (and it's not ☺) but our Peds Doc wanted her to stay home a few more days. Holy cow Batman, you would have thought he asked her to give her right arm! "Please, please let me go back to school, I feel fine!" So, he dutifully changed the date to tomorrow. She may have well won the lottery, she was so happy.
So, intrepid readers, I ask you...no, I can't even ask. I'm just going to go with it.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Dear me!
The girls and I were on the way home from dance class last night and this is the conversation they were having. I didn't really contribute much as I was trying not to laugh...
"It kinda sucks being a girl."
"I know, right?"
"You have to have periods and your boobs have to hurt when they grow."
"And you have to be pregnant."
"Yeah! And sometimes they have to almost rip open your stomach!"
(At this point, I did intervene and ask them which was better, to have your stomach "ripped" open or to die. They both agreed death was the least sucky option)
"I know, I really don't want to get pregnant, but I really want to adopt."
"Yeah."
"Then after you have kids you have to stay with them all the time."
"And drive them everywhere."
"And do all their school stuff with them."
"And boys expect you to stay skinny!"
"I know!!"
"Being a girl is hard."
"All boys have to do is have private parts and get money."
And there you have it.
"It kinda sucks being a girl."
"I know, right?"
"You have to have periods and your boobs have to hurt when they grow."
"And you have to be pregnant."
"Yeah! And sometimes they have to almost rip open your stomach!"
(At this point, I did intervene and ask them which was better, to have your stomach "ripped" open or to die. They both agreed death was the least sucky option)
"I know, I really don't want to get pregnant, but I really want to adopt."
"Yeah."
"Then after you have kids you have to stay with them all the time."
"And drive them everywhere."
"And do all their school stuff with them."
"And boys expect you to stay skinny!"
"I know!!"
"Being a girl is hard."
"All boys have to do is have private parts and get money."
And there you have it.
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