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Baby Jesus, Dad? Really?

16 Nov

*I had the kids make their Christmas lists the other day, and DynaGirl asked for her own room.  I’ve told her before that this is not going to happen as long as we live in this house (3 bedrooms, 4 kids, 1 teenage boy, 3 girls), but she spent most of Veteran’s Day watching HGTV and she’s convinced she can convert the closet into a bedroom for herself.  Apparently she’s mistaken their 2’x5′ closet for one of more Narnian proportions.  I’m afraid this Christmas will join puppy, pony and baby brother on the list of Santa FAILS.

*The other day I spent more time than I would care to admit searching for a stray sock—a quest that took me, among other places, under furniture, between couch cushions, into sleeves of shirts already hanging in closets, and inside the newspaper recycling bin (no stone unturned, people).  Just when I had decided to give up (or at least when I had told myself I’d decided to give up), I felt something strange on the back of my knee.  I reached up my pant leg only to discover the missing sock had been there the whole time.  Only I’m not entirely convinced it had been there the whole time.  That was at least the second time I had worn that particular pair of pants since they’d last been laundered (what, you wash your jeans after every wear?) and the sock had obviously been freshly laundered and not in the same load as the pants (I have a strict laundry sorting regimen that must be adhered to at all times).  Also, it wasn’t just my sock I found up my pant leg, but one of BigHugs’ as well, which was an entirely different color from both the missing sock and the pants.  Even if by the wildest stretch of the imagination I somehow managed to launder items from three different laundry families in the same load, would I really be able to walk around on 2-3 separate occasions with these two separate pieces of foot coverings stowed away in my pant leg without even noticing?  Would I?  Would I??  Do you ever get the feeling your life is one long-running episode of Punk’d? 

*Last night we played one of those Cranium games.  One round had DynaGirl guiding Chuck’s hand to draw a particular something, which was a little awkward considering Chuck is left-handed while DynaGirl is right-handed.  Chuck and BigHugs (who were on DynaGirl’s team) had to guess what it was.

Chuck: A man!
BigHugs:  A guy!
Chuck: A gingerbread man!
BigHugs: A gingerbread man!
Chuck: Baby Jesus!

They were wrong.  They ran out of time.

Later, BigHugs said, “Baby Jesus, Dad?  Really?”

Any guesses?

Best birthday ever!

14 Dec

My husband, ever the romantic, selected a very special greeting card for my birthday.

On the inside:

It’s one of those musical birthday cards.  It was playing this:

And as if that wasn’t enough:

The inside of my birthday card had a post script:  “P.S. You are like a drug to me.”  He mocks with love.

BigHugs very proudly presented me with a present she’d wrapped herself in her sleeping bag case.  I opened it to find one of Goose’s stuffed animals.  The look on Goose’s face was classic.  I tried to keep her from making a big fuss about it since BigHugs was so excited about having picked out a gift for me all on her own.

Goose gave me an ornament she’d made at school and a card with a poem:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The best mom ever is…you!

DynaGirl also gave me an ornament she had made along with this card:

Mr. T very generously bestowed his Pop-Tart box hat upon my head.

My most heartfelt thanks to all of you for the birthday wishes.

What more could a woman ask for?

Picked on

4 Jun

Chuck handed me a section of the newspaper the other day and said, “I saved this for you.”

Headline: 2009’s swimsuits accept your imperfections.

Article highlights:

“…moderate shaping to power control…”

“…stomach, rear, and side love-handles…”

“…skin oozes out elsewhere…”

“…popping out…”

“…don’t kid yourself that you can hide it…”



Getting ready.

BigHugs: You have a hole in your undies.

Me: I do?

BigHugs:  Yeah.  I know, Mom!  Next time we go to the store we can see if there are other big undies there that are your size.  Is that a great idea?

Me:  Big undies?  Is that what I need?

BigHugs, smiling: Uh-huh.



Bonus thinking person caption. 

Thinking person #6


Stop staring at me.

Happy Birthday, Susan!

Idol conversation

21 May

Queen Latifah and Lil Rounds

DynaGirl:  Either Lil got really big or that other lady is really tiny.

Me:  That other lady is Lil.  Queen Latifah is workin’ that spandex.


Jason Mraz and the runners-up

Chuck:  Wow, just think they get to share the stage with Jason Mraz.

Me:  Yeah, and he has to sing with a bunch of losers.

Chuck:  Nice.


Kris and Keith Urban

Me:  Is that Nicole Kidman’s husband?

Chuck:  I think so.

Me:  I think Kris might have a better voice than Keith Urban.

Chuck:  You think so?  He’s rockin’ that guitar, though.

Me:  When does this song end?


Fergie and the girls and the Black Eyed Peas

Me:  Oooh, I love Fergie. 

Chuck:  Fergie’s got looong legs.

DynaGirl:  Those body suits are freaking me out.


Cyndi Lauper and Alison

Chuck, to DynaGirl and Goose:  It’s your song!

Me:  Cyndi Lauper’s looking good.  Man, she’s got skinny legs.


Danny and Lionel Richie

Danny’s singing Hello.

Chuck:  Is Lionel Richie going to be on?

Me:  We can only dream.

Chuck:  How old is Lionel Richie?  Like 80?

Me:  laughing.

Mr. Richie takes the stage.

Me:  Yessssss!

Chuck:  He looks good for 80.

All Night Long music starts.

Me:  Are you kidding me?!

Singing along.  Must rewind when Lionel does the “play on” echoes.

DynaGirl:  I like this song.



Adam and Kiss

Me:  What is he wearing?  Who’s he singing?

Chuck:  Kiss.

Kiss takes the stage.  Much laughter.

Me and Chuck:  So awesome!

DynaGirl, starting to cry (for real):  I’m scared.


Steve Martin and Megan and the oil-rigger (Michael?)

Me and Chuck:  Steve Martin?

Music starts.

Chuck:  Over the Rainbow?  The Rainbow Connection?

Me:  It’s not The Rainbow Connection.

Chuck:  He sings The Rainbow Connection.

Me:  No, he doesn’t.

Megan’s humming.

Chuck:  Wait, did Megan forget the words?  It’s good they have her sitting down so she can’t do the wiggle thing.


Rod Stewart

Me:  I hope he makes it down those stairs OK.

Chuck:  He’s still got some moves.

Me:  Yeah, but I kind of want to slap a life alert bracelet on him.



Chuck: Wow, they’ve got lots of big name folks.

Me, chuckling: Folks?

Chuck: Rockstars?


Sometime during the show.

I get up.

DynaGirl:  Where are you going?

Me:  To make my notes.

Chuck:  No more notes.  Can’t we just sit down and watch American Idol like a normal family?

Fifteen going on forever

14 May

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. Fifteen years ago today, I made Chuck the happiest man on earth. I won’t say that I love him even more today than I did 15 years ago. I don’t even know what that means. But I will say I’ve never stopped.

Here are 15 things I love about Chuck.

1.   Early on in our marriage he volunteered to be the designated fridge-cleaner-outer, and he’s still doing it.

2.  I can always count on him to make a corny joke.  And he loves it when I roll my eyes.

3.  He often can’t remember things I’ve told him 5 minutes before, but he recalls our courtship in vivid details even I had forgotten.

4.  He takes care of all the maintenance on my car and sometimes even makes a special trip to make sure the tank is full, not because he thinks I’m incapable or that it’s his manly/husbandly duty, but just so I won’t have to bother with it.

5.  I always know when I’ve “caught” him doing something because he has a guilty smile/chuckle that gives him away every time.  He knows that I know, and he still smiles.

6.  He always compliments me and tells me I’m beautiful, even when I feel (and, let’s be honest,  look) worked over.

7.  He’s very loyal.  When I’m upset, he always takes my side—sometimes even when I’m upset with him.

8.  He still writes me love notes and makes me mix CDs, often pointing out the lyrics of special significance.

9.  He is careful with money (our finances are great), but he is not a tightwad, and if he’s ever been worried about my spending habits, he’s never let on to me.  We have never had an argument over money.

10.  Whenever he needs to go out of town, our kids are very upset and make a BIG deal over his homecoming.  That says a lot about him as a father.

11.  He always asks my tree

12.  He sends me links and things that he thinks will make good blogging material.

13.  He would rather spend time with me than hang out with the guys, but doesn’t mind giving me a girl’s night out.  (Or at least he’s very good at pretending.)

14.  He is quick to reassure me when I doubt myself, quick to recognize my accomplishments (even if it’s just that I’ve managed to get the dishes done that day), and always without my feeling patronized or doubting his sincerity.

15.  He has a special appreciation for my particular flavor of crazy.  He must, after all, he’s still here!

Happy anniversary, Chuck!  I still love you!

Let him eat cookies (hands off the $*%! cake!)

21 Nov

I don’t really have much of anything for you today, but I did find this in my pantry this morning (I think it’s been there for some time now, but just resurfaced as I was rummaging around):


And on the flipside (just in case the message wasn’t perfectly clear before):


Strangely, I have no recollection of a conversation/incident that would have precipitated this kind of response from DynaGirl.  (Hey, cookies and leftover birthday cake are too very different things.)  I imagine Chuck might know.

Some parting thoughts as I wish you the loveliest of weekends:

Be nice to your husband.  Give him permission to eat a cookie.


29 Oct

I think it’s safe to say my first name is fairly unique.  I’ve never met another person with it, and I’ve never met another person who knew another person with it.  Sometimes having a unique name is cool—people notice it, comment on it, ask about it.  I’ve received a fair number of name-related compliments over the years.  Sometimes it’s also kind of a burden—no one knows how to spell it or pronounce it, you can never find personalized novelty items in the stores, and not everyone’s “That’s different” comes with a complimentary tone.  But for better or worse, my name is one thing that’s always been special about me. 

Well, the other day Chuck sends me this e-mail with a link to a page that shows a gravestone of someone else with my name.  My name!  Part of me thought that was kind of cool, like “Hey, I’m not alone in the world after all!”  But the other, bigger part of me thought “Harumph!”  I’ve labored under the delusion of my name-related specialness for so long, I’m not sure I’m so crazy about the idea of someone else out there walking around with my name.  Well, hopefully not walking around since she’s been dead for 25 years, but you know what I mean.

So from now on when someone comments on the uniqueness of my name I suppose I’ll feel somewhat obligated to disclose, “Yeah, well, some dead lady buried in Australia has the same name, so whatever.”

P.S.  Chuck sent me the link with no explanation.  I just clicked on it and there was my name on a tombstone.  This happened just two days after the birthday cake incident.  Coincidence?  Should I be worried?

P.P.S.  I forgot to tell you that the fake wacky search term from last week’s Wacky Search Term Wednesday was “sock monkey bra”.  So that means Cheryl wins!  Congratulations!  Look for some kind of prize of some degree of awesomeness to be heading your way some time in the future.

Friday funnies—family edition

24 Oct

This in no way reflects how I feel about my own relatives.  I love my relatives.  Especially the ones that I bother to talk to on the phone.  Hey, I’ve called you before, Mad.  Anyways, it’s just that I’ve titled this post “Friday funnies—family edition” because it’s Friday and I have some family stuff to throw in here, but I needed a comic that fit the theme for the “funnies” part and this is the only one I could find.


Fairy Goosemother

Goose, waving her wand in my direction:  Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo!  Turn you into a mom that’s beautiful!

Me:  Hey!

Goose:  I said beautiful.

Me:  So you’re saying I’m not already beautiful?

Goose:  No, I’m pretending you’re an animal.

Me:  Like in Cinderella when the fairy godmother turns the mice into coachmen?

Goose:  Yeah.

Me:  What kind of animal am I?

Goose:  An elephant.


Family togetherness

Kids overhear Chuck and I discussing an article from the paper about a man beating his wife to death.

Goose:  I’m never going to beat up my husband.  Dad, would you beat up Mom?

Dad:  No, she beats me up.

Me:  No, I don’t!  When have I ever beat you up?

DynaGirl:  Do you beat him up with your words?

Mr. T, snickering:  Mom verbally abuses Dad.

Me:  What?!

Oh yeah?  Well, I’ve got three words:  leftover birthday cake.


More family togetherness

Mr. T:  You can roast beef, but you can’t pea soup.

Goose:  Mr. T is the grossest person in this family.

DynaGirl:  He was adopted.

Goose:  Yeah, you were adopted.

Me:  He wants to be adopted.

Chuck:  He’s from a hobo family.

Me:  They dropped him off on our doorstep.

Chuck:  That’s why he’s obsessed with hobos.

Me:  It’s in his blood.

Mr. T:  Yeah, it’s in my blood.  Hobo instincts.

That’s my boy. 

Minor irritations for a Monday morning

20 Oct

I usually walk my girls to school every morning as it is only a few blocks away, but this morning it was cold and Goose has a cold and, well, let’s be honest, I was feeling kind of lazy so I decided to drop them off.  There are no words to describe the depth of my loathing for that special circle of hell that is the elementary school parking lot.  The parking lot has a lane designated for drop offs.  You pull into the lane and wait until you are in the safe drop off zone, let your child out, and then get the heck out of there so that the other parents can do the same.  And, of course, all the while remembering to pull forward as to not waste any of the precious drop off zone space.  It’s really not that hard until you have some joker who takes a good 5 minutes to push their kid out the door, and then you’re screwed.  Everything’s all backed up.  And then you have the other jokers who just can’t wait, so they completely bypass the drop off lane and pull directly into the drop off zone.  There is no bypassing, people.  No bypassing! 

Today I was in the zone letting out my girls.  The code of the zone is sacred, people.  Wait your turn, pull forward, drop off quickly, move along.  I know the code.  I live by the code.  And poor Goose this morning pinches her finger in the handle as she’s trying to pull the van door shut.  Do I get out of the car to comfort her?  No, you don’t get out of the car.  There is no drivers exiting the vehicles in the code.  Only pulling forward and moving along.  I do my best to console her through the window, making my sincerest face of sympathy, blowing a kiss, and then nodding vigorously with a smile to reassure her she would be fine.  The two cars ahead of me pull out and just as I’m easing my way out after them, another car cuts right in front of me, blocking off my exit.  She’s not even pulled in next to the curb, so I can’t get around her. Finally, after her kid is out the door, she realizes she’s going to have to back up to get out and almost hits me!  I have nowhere to back up—there’s a line of cars behind me, for crying out loud!  This woman does not live by the code.  Who is she to think she can live outside of the code?

So I’m good and bothered by the time I get home.  And hungry.  I figure a forkful of leftover birthday cake will be just the thing to chase my troubles away.  But there’s no birthday cake.  Nope.  Uh-uh.  The cake is gone.  No trace of the cake.  Not a sprinkle.  Not a crumb.  I can only assume that Chuck took the entire container of leftover birthday cake (which was easily like three pieces worth) to work with him.  The whole thing!  I’m totally not telling him where the Halloween candy’s stashed.  When I get the Halloween candy.

Friday Funnies: Special Monday Edition

13 Jul

This mysteriously appeared on my fridge this evening:



I’m going to give Chuck a pass on this one since he took me to Foo.  Plus it’s funny.  It’s funny ’cause it’s true!