Archive | July, 2010

When I grow up, I still want to be a kid

31 Jul

BigHugs is five! 

Five things about BigHugs:

1. She has the most beautiful smile, but it’s next to impossible to catch on camera.  With her, there’s no such thing as a natural pose.

Smile! ... I am smiling!

2. She wants her own way (desperately, at times), but is almost always the first to give in and compromise.

3. She longs for company and often complains of loneliness, but can be painfully shy.

4. She can take this picture at her birthday celebration, and still on the way home thank you for “the best day ever.”

5.  She is both anxious and afraid to grow up, and I share her excitement and anxiety.

BigHugs: When I grow up, what do you think I’m going to be?
Me: I don’t know. What do you want to be?
BigHugs, looking thoughtful and a little sad: When I grow up, I still want to be a kid.

~

BigHugs: When I grow up, I want to live here.
Me: What if your husband doesn’t want to live here?
BigHugs: Well, I would just tell him to suck it up.

Happy birthday, BigHugs!  I love you!  Please don’t grow up too fast!

Mr. T goes to camp

23 Jul

Mr. T’s been at scout camp all week.  It’s been strange around here without him.  I’ve tried pouring on the sarcasm to try to fill the empty space he left behind, but it’s not the same and I’m not so sure my girls have appreciated my efforts.

I pity the fool who hasn't earned his Bling Badge!

Here’s a few Mr. T moments I found on a random scratch pad.

Watching tv, sitting next to Mr. T.

Me: Ew!
Chuck: What’d he do?
Me: He licked my elbow!  That’s the second time today!

Don’t worry, there hasn’t been a third time.

~

Dinner conversations.

Mr. T: Turtles can breathe through their butts.
DynaGirl: No, they can’t.
Mr. T: Yes, they can. Look it up!

It’s true.

~

I have no recollection of the context.

Mr. T, completely straight-faced: I’m pretty good at lying. The only reason you didn’t believe me was because what I said was ridiculous. But my voice and facial expressions gave nothing away.

He’s an excellent liar (in a mostly harmless/ha-fooled you! way), which is why I now question everything that comes out of his mouth. Everything.

Incidentals

22 Jul

So I’ve got my two youngest in swimming lessons.  Daily.  At 9:30.  In the morning.  Which is good, actually, because it forces me to be up and ready at a reasonable time of day.  I do have a question for anyone with swim/swim equipment knowledge.  Is it normal for my children’s swim goggles to leave impressions on their face?  If I loosen them, they seem to leak too much, but they have these crazy, painful looking raccoon eyes when they take them off.  Also, yesterday my friend nudged me to check out the lifeguard.  Not because he was hot, but because he was asleep.  Like a-sleep.  He had his feet propped up in front of him and his head lulled to the side.  I might have been upset had there not been multiple swim instructors in each pool with the kids, but I mostly just thought it was funny.  What’s even funnier is that no one who worked there seemed to notice, or if they did, didn’t bother to say anything, which, now that I think about it, does cause me concern for the pool’s open swim times.  Hmmm.

(Oh, the awesomest part of this whole swim lessons thing is that I’ve got Goose convinced it’s fun to do BigHugs’ bath.)

Gratuitous David Boreanaz picture.

I’ve been making my way through my Buffy/Angel dvd’s.  This is quality television, my friends.  Quality television.

Next week Chuck and I are spending the weekend in Victoria, BC with some old friends.  I’ve been looking online for things we can do, and thought this sounded fun.  I’m thinking even if it’s totally cheesy, it might be worth the price of admission.  Actually, the totally cheesy might make it worth the price of admission.  Is this something you would do?

DynaGirl’s school friends aren’t returning her phone calls.  And their parents aren’t returning my phone calls.  She’s called once and I’ve called twice this summer.  (That’s a pretty strong hint, right?)  They were kind of hot and cold this past year, and more than once I thought maybe it was time for her to branch out and look for other, more reliable friends, but somehow they were always able to work things out.  Now I’m really thinking it’s time to move on, which makes her sad and really worries her going into a brand new school year, but I just don’t think she should have to wonder anymore whether her “friends” like her this week or not.  That’s not friendship.  That’s ridiculous.  And she deserves better.  Plus I’m just so tired of trying to make things OK.  (Does that sound as bad as I think it does?) 

Lately, I’ve been in total screw it mode, which isn’t nearly as much fun as it might sound, but certainly as dangerous.  I’ve been doing the bare minimum of housework and the maximum of eating/snacking.  I’m not sure how to stop the insanity.  That’s not true.  I know exactly how to stop the insanity, but it sounds like work, which is completely incompatible with screw it mode.  Someone needs to push my reset button.

What’s your current mode?

Hello, it’s me

19 Jul

Do you ever look at your spouse or one of your kids and for like a nanosecond think, “Who are you?”  Like some kind of reverse déjà vu?

Maybe it’s just me.

~

I’m kind of diggin’ this song lately:

~

How you doin’?

Charmed

15 Jul

In the car with Mr. T.

Mr. T: Are those zebra stripes on your sunglasses?

Me: Yeah, aren’t they cool?

Mr. T just shakes his head.

Me: What, do my sunglasses embarrass you?

Mr. T: Kind of.

Me: Right, you know you want some.

Mr. T: Eyeroll.

I start to sing along with the CD.

Mr. T, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, subtly leans over to turn up the volume.

I continue to sing.

Mr. T turns up the volume again.

Me: Hey, that’s getting a little loud.

Mr. T: Yeah, I’m trying to distract myself from your singing.

Me: Harumph.

Next song I opt not to sing, but dance.

Mr. T turns off the radio.

Me: Hey, I wasn’t even singing to that one.

Mr. T, shaking his head: Yeah, but there was nothing I could do to distract me from (makes up and down hand gesturing in my direction) that.

Me, with a pouty lip: Hey.

Mr. T shoots me a look.

Me: Is that your smolder?

Mr. T: Yeah, I’m pretty proud of it.

I am powerless to resist his charms.

So this middle aged thing…

13 Jul

A couple of weeks ago, as I was helping the kids get ready for bed, I suddenly caught a glimpse of my hand and thought, “Whose hand is that?” Actually, it was more like, “Good frick! Whose old lady hand is that?!” It was wrinkly and veiny and…old. I had a momentary freakout. And when I say freakout, I mean there was a loud display of shock and dismay and just general irrational freakoutedness. My family laughed at me, but I was having a seriously intense moment of middle age crisis. BigHugs came down for a drink of water later that night, and as she hugged me goodnight again she said, “I’m sorry your hands got old.”

Every 4th of July, my brother and sister-in-law throw a huge Independence Day bash for my husband’s side of the family.  There’s a different theme every year.  Last year was the Amazing Race.  This year it was Minute to Win It, based on a television game show where contestants have a minute to perform various random tasks.  I did surprisingly well, making it into the final round of competition (there were just four of the original forty left).  The final task was called paper dragon (follow the link for a video demonstration), in which each player had to un-spool two large rolls of party streamers with a continuous windmill motion of the arms.  I made a valiant effort, but in the end was outdone by a 15 and 10 year old.  The next morning, I could not move my shoulders without excruciating pain.  The pain settled into a throbbing ache by the end of day two, and by day four I was able to wield my hair dryer without wanting to cry.  I kept thinking I was just too old for this crap.

While we were visiting with family this past week I had the lovely opportunity to see the latest Twilight movie with six of my sisters-in-law and two teenage nieces. I’ve decided that these movies must be seen in groups, but if you’re bringing teenagers along be prepared to duck and cover when the screaming starts. After the movie, there was the obligatory discussion of who was hotter—a discussion I always have a difficult time participating in because these are young men. Like, young men.  And we’ve already established that I am no longer a young woman.  I think I brought up the cougar factor, which led to a discussion of what constitutes a cougar.  Some in our group thought you would have to be at least 40 to be granted cougar status, but I said if I’m old enough to be their mother then that did it for me.  I am thoroughly creeped out by the idea of someone my age finding my teenage son sexually attractive.  Thoroughly.

So now I find myself thinking, if I put any stock in that old you’re only as old as you feel bit, I am royally screwed.

 

Tales from the road

12 Jul

In the car.

DynaGirl:  I’ve got a wedgie.

BigHugs: Don’t say that, DynaGirl.  That’s inappropriate.

Chuck: Where’d she get that?

Mr. T: Probably from me.

DynaGirl: No, probably from me.

Mr. T: I say that, too.

DynaGirl: Yeah, but not as much as me because you’re the one always saying the inappropriate things.

That’s a true statement.

~ 

Still in the car.

Chuck: We’re coming up on the cinnamon bathroom.  Should we stop?

Me: Anyone need to use the bathroom?

Goose: Yes!

Me: DynaGirl, do you want to use the bathroom?

DynaGirl: Yes, very much so.

BigHugs: This is the best bathroom in the whole wide world.

Another true statement.

~

Bedtime, towards the end of our stay.

Goose: Time is mean.  Whenever you’re having fun, it goes by fast.  Whenever you’re having so much not fun, it goes by slow.

Wisdom beyond her years.

~

And the highlight of the trip.  For me.

DynaGirl: You’re good at painting nails.

Me: It’s easier when you’re not doing it to yourself.  Plus, I’m old—I’ve had more practice.

DynaGirl: You’re not old, you’re middle-aged.

Awesome.