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She’s ba-ack…sort of…no promises!

9 Jan

I miss being here.  I miss you being here.  I’m not entirely sure I have anything worthwhile left to say.  I think that’s one of the reasons for my long absence–I was feeling like I had met my lifetime quota of witty or amusing observations on life.

Plus I was always feeling so behind.  I missed posting for three of my children’s birthdays last year, which is pretty pathetic considering I only have four children.  I think I felt like I couldn’t say anything else until I had crossed those birthday posts off my list.  But there’s something about the obligation of it all that took the joy out of it.

So I’m going to try to come around once in a while and see if Stella can get her groove back.  And by Stella I mean me, and by groove I mean joy-inducing witticisms and observations (joy for me, not for you–though your happiness would also be a welcome by-product, of course).

Well, I’m thinking 175 words is about all I have in me for today.  Carry on.  See you later.

One more thing, say what you want about the lastest Killers album (yes, I’m talking to you–you know who you are), but I love this song:


Be still, dear friends.  Be still.

Who does that??

19 Sep

So one of those dear newly-befriendeds sent me a thank you note for accepting her friend request. I’m thinking she might notice if I suddenly drop her–will have to go with the hide/block for now.

But seriously, a thank you note? I’m trying to decide if that’s incredibly sweet or incredibly creepy. I think I know which direction I’m leaning.


18 Sep

I’ve had about 20 friend requests sitting in my little FB friend request box for months now. I finally decided to accept three of them and almost instantaneously regretted it. Is it just coincidence that these three now constitute 95% of my news feed?

Your child drank two whole cups of ice water after playing outside in 90 degree weather? Really? Stop the presses!

A link to a “nice article” about Days of Our Lives? And you want to know if I have “any thoughts”? Really?

Watching the CMA’s last night with your kids was a memory that will last forever? FOR-EVER? Really?? Either way, I don’t care! Stop posting, people!

What is the proper etiquette for unfriending someone? Is there a minimum time you must try them out before you pull the plug? Or can I just call it now?


I’m like the crypt keeper

13 Sep

Last night Goose went roller skating with her church youth group. When she got home, Chuck and I grilled her on all the particulars as we strolled down our own memory lane.

Chuck: Did they have a disco ball?

Goose: Yeah.

Chuck: Did they turn the lights down low?

Goose: Yeah.

Chuck: Did they play music?

Goose: Yeah. They played old-timey stuff like Eye of the Tiger.

Me: Old-timey??

When did old-timey go from Jimmy Crack Corn to Eye of the Tiger??

Mondays. Harumph.

31 Jan

I am mirthless today—completely devoid of mirth.  Do you have any to spare?


19 Oct

Because Monday I got to…

drop DynaGirl off at school an hour early for art club
go home to get Goose ready for school (BigHugs is off all week because there’s no half-day kindergarten during conference week)
drop Goose off at school
go to my sister’s house to get my hair done
go home to get lunch for BigHugs
pick the girls up at school (half days for conference week)
take the girls to my sister’s to get their hair done
pick up Mr. T and my nephew from school
take Mr. T to my sister’s to get his hair done
take the girls to piano lessons
go back to my sister’s to pick up Mr. T
go home
take Mr. T to piano and pick up girls
take girls home
pick up Mr. T from piano
go home and get BigHugs ready for dance
take BigHugs to dance
go home and make dinner.

I don’t love Mondays. Or school conference weeks.

On a brighter note, Mr. T sent me a link to this:

Best. Choir teacher. Ever.  Delightful. 

Happy Tuesday!


27 Sep

I spent Saturday afternoon running errands.  As I was getting off the freeway on my way home, there was a man with a sign that said, “I never thought I would do this, but I need help.”  I only occasionally give money to panhandlers.  Mostly my cold, cynical heart keeps my roadside philanthropic gestures in check.  But that afternoon I found myself wishing I had a couple of bucks.  I didn’t.  I rarely have cash.  I did, however, have some bottled water, and since it was a particularly warm day, I offered it to him.  He accepted it gratefully, and struck up a conversation while I waited for the light to change.

PH, opening his bottle of water: This is probably the last nice day we’ll have in September.

Me, looking up at the bright sun and then at his attire: Yeah, not the best day for black.  Oh good honk!  He is black!

PH, taking a sip of his water, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and half-smiling:  I like black.

Me, chuckling awkwardly: Well, you look hot.  You look hot?  Did I just tell him he looks hot?!  Fix it, Bythelbs!  Fix it!  I mean, temperature-wise.  Temperature-wise? Temperature-wise?!? Mayday, mayday!  Abort!  Abort!

I couldn’t look at him after that, but it seemed like he had taken a step or two away from my vehicle.  And I can’t help but wonder if somewhere I am now referred to as “the crazy white lady who tried to pick me up on the 88th St. off-ramp”.

Do you give money to panhandlers?  Food?  Bottled water?  Inappropriately suggestive comments?

This week in review

17 Sep

*Do you know what’s depressing about getting acquainted with new people (as I was doing just this morning)?  Inevitably they will ask you what your interests or hobbies are, what you do.  And then (if you’re me) you’re forced to admit you don’t do anything.  Like, at all.  You know what’s even more depressing?  Having the person you’re getting acquainted with ramble off a ridiculously long list of hobbies and talents: cooking, sewing, painting, drawing, photography, woodworking, gardening, zumba instructing.  Those are just the ones I can remember off the top of my head.  I could go on and on.  But I think my kids are better behaved than hers, so there.  (Actually, they’re pretty cute kids, just a little busier than mine ever were.)  Sigh. 

*I had the most disturbing dreams last night.  Like disturbingIllustrations are completely out of the question.

*Last night I found out that BigHugs will not be one of the kids moving from her am kindergarten class into a newly formed pm class with a different teacher being brought over from another school.  (She’s going to be teaching an am class at the one school and a pm class at our school, which doesn’t sound like an ideal situation to me.)  I was much relieved, as this has been a major source of anxiety for me this week.

*I spent 2.5 hours Thursday morning helping in BigHugs’ kindergarten class, which still had 27 students.  Wow.  All I can say is I think kindergarten teachers are saints.  Saints.  I was busy the entire time—sorting, cutting, sharpening (pencils, in case you were concerned), tying shoes, zipping and unzipping backpacks, showing kids how to put letters the right side up.  It was exhausting.  And fun.  I think maybe I was made for menial tasks.  Of the non-housework variety, of course.

*Tuesday and Thursday nights were curriculum nights at the elementary school, where the teachers outline what the kids will be learning, as well as their goals and expectations for the year.  There were 3-7 parents in each of my girls’ classrooms, and each of their classes have 26-28 kids.  I thought that was kind of sad.  But then maybe they were all off cooking, sewing, painting, drawing, photography, woodworking, gardening and zumba instructing, and the rest of us losers just had nothing else to do.

*On a lighter note:

DynaGirl’s class is working on writing their autobiographies.  Each day this week her teacher has had the class write about a different family member.

Me: What did you write about me?

DynaGirl:  I didn’t write anything bad.  Because there isn’t anything bad.

Me: Oh, you’re so nice.  And forgetful.  Maybe you’re just suppressing it—burying it deep down.  Like Mr. T.

Mr. T:  What?

Me:  Isn’t that what you do?  Take all the bad stuff and bury it deep, deep down so you don’t cry yourself to sleep at night?

Mr. T:  Who says I don’t cry myself to sleep?

I can always count on Mr. T.


Kinda sad and uninspired

15 Sep

The transition into fall seems to be breathing new life into many of you and your blogs.  Unfortunately, whatever’s inspiring you has yet to reach me.  Boo.  Until I reclaim my blogging mojo (you know, I tried to shorten that again, and it’s still just wrong), here are a few random conversational tidbits.


Overheard out of context.

Goose: BigHugs, if you have a baby in front of your husband then that baby’s going to get eaten by your husband.

I don’t know what this was about, but I blame Animal Planet.


Special request for Mr. T.

Me:  Can you like not make your digestive issues into a song?

It’s like a 24-hr gas station around here.  Could there actually be something to this puberty gas?


Family together time.

DynaGirl flips hair over her face and makes indecipherable barnyard noise.

Mr. T: You sould like a dying goat.

Me: Why would a cow have no face and long hair?

DynaGirl: I was being Chewy!

Me: Oh!

Mr. T, laughing hysterically: Why would a cow have no face and long hair?

Me: That’s what I wanted to know!

And I’m totally not getting “Why would a cow have no face?” thrown at me every. single. day.

What to do

8 Sep

Man, it’s quiet around here.  Almost too quiet.  Almost.

The kids are back in school.  The oldest three started yesterday, and today was BigHug’s kindergarten debut.

*Mr. T had a pretty decent first day of 9th grade, declaring two of his teachers “really cool” (“My English teacher is like the guy from the old Willy Wonka!”*) and only one “kinda scary”.  He’s at a brand new high school that’s divided into smaller learning communities, so he has all of his classes except one in the same building.  It’s a beautiful campus.

*DynaGirl had a crap first day of 5th grade.  She really likes her new teacher, but has none of her old friends in her new class.  The one girl she thought she’d get along with was moved to a different class.  She tried hanging out with her old gang at recess, but they ditched her.  She’s feeling very lonely and insecure.  I hope she finds someone to connect with soon.

*Goose is giddy with excitement over 3rd grade.  She has her same teacher as last year (who is awesome) and plenty of friends.  I’m relieved to not have to worry about her.

*BigHugs has been waiting to go to “real” school forever, and is very excited her kindergarten days have finally arrived.  I felt like a jerk this morning, being the only parent without a camera to document this milestone.  I took pictures at home before we left.  Do I really need a picture of her walking into class for the first time ever? (That wasn’t a rhetorical question–lie if you have to.)

I have two hours until BigHugs bus brings her home and then another hour and a half until it’s time to pick up Mr. T.  And then another hour and a half until it’s time to pick up the girls.  So what to do in the meantimes?  What to do, what to do…

*Who wouldn’t want Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka for their English teacher??