A Monkey in the Wrong Tree

Stoopid Skool!

2009-01-22T06:55:00.005-06:00

On the day that our new president was sworn in, I was smacked in the face with a reminder that the effects of the old regime would be biting us in the ass for a long time. Boy came home with a permission slip. It was asking me to allow my son to participate in an abstinence-only program at school.
Now I know for a fact that the only type of sex education my son has had was the puberty talk my husband and I gave him, the scientific talk that I gave him and the book we had to accompany it. The school hasn't even given him the whole sperm fertilizing the egg stuff.
So the fact that the school was going to be feeding him some right-wing propaganda about "saving their special gift until marriage in a fun sports-themed program." just mad me want to hurl. I got better sex education in my Catholic school and they told me circumcision didn't matter because it just fell off the first time the baby boy peed!
I think I'd rather them not say anything at all then feed him this crap, but of course I gave him permission to go, because nothing is worse than be singled out as the person that can't go to sex ed (however pathetic it may be) because your parents won't let you.

I Love You!

2009-01-20T21:32:00.003-06:00

I've recently been warping my daughter. When she leaves a light on in a room she no longer uses, I ask, "Girl, don't you love the polar bears?" She will then drop whatever she's doing, snap off the light and say, "Yes, mommy, I love them a lot."
I'm horribly mean.
So back in October when the preschoolers in my daughter's small-town, right-wing, Catholic preschool started telling my daughter that our new president kills babies or whatever the crap of the moment was that their parents were spewing, I set her straight on the baby thing and informed her that we were voting for Obama because he loves polar bears.
I don't have proof of that obviously. I've never seen him wearing an "I Heart Polar Bears" t-shirt, but he is pro-saving the environment.
My daughter doesn't see the environment as a whole. She loves cute, fuzzy polar bears, and knows that they are dying out because that's what her big brother told her. So in our house, recycling, energy conservation, what have you is all a dedicated effort to save the polar bears for our princess.
So today I turned off Dora and made my preschooler watch President Obama being sworn in, and when it was over she turned to me and said, "It sure is nice to have a president that loves polar bears like me."
And I whole-heartedly agreed.

Fun With Tilt Shift

2009-01-12T20:12:00.000-06:00

So I am blaming CaptainDumbass at Us and Them for my new addiction: Tilt Shift Maker. I spent a good hour making things look tiny. These are pictures from my Flickr account and my mom's. Here are some of the greatest hits:

Mr. Giles last year

My parents' camper when I was little

A picnic table in a reserve near my house

My sister's house

My mom took this in Vilnius, Lithuania

Another of my mom's Lithuania pictures

Yum!

2009-01-01T22:22:00.003-06:00

As a New Year's treat Mr. Hobbitfeet made one of my favorite dinners, med.-rare steaks with cauliflower, potatoes, and garlic bread. Mr. H. and I were eating it with left over cheapy champagne and Girl had leftover Welch's sparkly grape juice. Probably not the right drinks for steak but yummy none the less.
Still no Boy though he's made the transfer from his biological father's family to my sister's which makes me feel like he may at some point be back under my roof. Now I just need to wait for my mom to bring him home on Saturday.
I can't wait, mostly because I hate not having him around all the time, but also it would be really nice to not have to be Girl's only playmate. Also, Mr. H. forgot about the lack of a person and got three big steaks instead of two, Girl and I only managed one between the two of us leaving a large steak for Mr. H.'s lunch tomorrow. . .maybe he did that on purpose.

At any rate, I had a much better New Year's Day than I had a New Year's eve. Despite the number of Barbies, or games of Pretty, Pretty Princess and Guess Who that I played.

Happy 2009!

2009-01-01T12:32:00.002-06:00

I am one of those weird people who hate New Year's Eve. Just so you know, I hate the 4th of July too. I must have something against holidays with fireworks. Anyhow, for my super fun New Year's Eve this year I watched too much Battlestar Galactica on my laptop while Girl watched Hannah Montana on the tv. Then at 8 p.m. Mr. Hobbitfeet, Girl, and I put on stupid hats and celebrated 5 year old New Year. We drank Welch's Sparkling Grape Juice in champagne flutes, blew store bought party horns, and banged on pots with wooden spoons. Then Mr. H. and I sang Auld Lang Syne while Girl looked at us like we were nuts. Boy has been at his other Grandma's since the day after Christmas.
Then we put Girl to bed and Mr. H. followed about an hour and a half later. I then watched more Battlestar Galactica until midnight when I woke up Mr. H. and made him kiss me.

Whoo hooo! Do I know how to party or what!?

Bucket Hats, Blue-Nosed Reindeer, and Things That Aren't Meant to be Kept

2008-12-29T20:09:00.003-06:00

Several years ago, my son's other grandma gave me a Christmas scrapbook. Having nothing better to do with such a gift, I started sticking all the Christmas cards I received, some funny Christmas artwork that my kids did and Santa pictures in it.
This ends up being something that cracks my family up year after year. You see, most people expect that Christmas cards will be tossed out, or maybe they don't know they do it, but people tend to have similarities in their Christmas cards year after year.
Like I have three of the exact same blue-nosed reindeer cards, two of which came frome the same person on different years. We also have evidence that Mr. Hobbitfeet's good friend loves bucket hats. Four out of Five of his Christmas cards feature several different pictures of his two girls in different bucket hats, and if you go back to the year they sent us a card before they had kids, you'll see him in a bucket hat.
Of course you get your other similarites like who always sends picture cards and who always sends newletters, who always sends pictures of their kids with Santa and who does whole family shots. The scrapbook also helps you remember who absolutely needs to get a Christmas card and who you should write little notes to.
But what I like the most is that you get to see the progression of your loved ones families. First you see the couple cards from the year they got married, then one little baby that keeps growing and becomes two, then maybe two and a pregnancy announcement and then three and so on.

Winter Doldrums

2008-12-14T23:35:00.003-06:00

There is nothing I hate more than cold weather. If I didn't enjoy my family or if my favorite seasons weren't Spring and Fall (respectively) I would move to a warmer climate where I could always have my windows open and spend every minute of my life outside. Maybe I'd live in a yurt.
Ha! I have a hard time sleeping when camping so a yurt would most likely be out of the question especially since there wouldn't be a place for all my books or my computer and since Boy has been terrified (since age 5) that a legless boy scout will come after him if he camps, a yurt would be down right impossible.
To end the monotony of another day indoors (there aren't many activities in my town), Girl and I decided to make homemade play dough. I pulled out the container of nearly a billion cookie cutters that I received for Christmas one year and Girl and I sat down to some fun. Boy spurned the activity until he learned that I wasn't going to let him use my cookie cutters on his Silly Putty.
We ended up having so much fun that even Mr. Hobbitfeet pulled himself away from Fantasy Football to join us. Boy kept making people with too large heads that he called dough babies. None of them could stand with out help and their bodies almost always collapsed under the weight of their massive noggins but he never gave up.
Girl spent all of her time taking things other people had made and then "remade them" which basically involved smashing everything until it looked like a pancake version of whatever it was supposed to be.
In the end we called it a day because Girl wouldn't stop eating the dough even though it was so salty and Boy started making dough balls (that I'm sure were about to be thrown) but we killed a good two hours which got us to lunch which got us t nap time which got us to the open at 1 p.m. library. Freezing cold Sundays are all about making it through until Monday.
As Douglas Adams says in Life, the Universe and Everything:

In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness which starts to set in at about 2:55, when you know that you've had all the baths you can usefully have that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the papers you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o'clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul.

Ans so we played with home made play dough.

Um. . .Okaaay.

2008-12-14T09:56:00.001-06:00

Today I was looking at my stats, and found a VERY unusual search and for some reason, I am the top result:

a cow is coming in front of a tree looks to the tree and than he says to the tree in my hole live i was never a stupid tree

Really?

Loving Christmas, Hating Santa!

2008-12-09T11:56:00.003-06:00

Girl loves Santa and Christmas. I know that most people feel that way, but Girl has gone nuts. I confess that it's my fault. When we were in Colorado Springs this year we went to a Kiddie amusement park at the base of Pike's Peak. See, Mr. Hobbitfeet had dropped Girl on her face the night before and we subjected her to the Ranger talks on the various poo found on the peak as we steadily went up and up on the "most boring" mountain in the world.
So even though it was our anniversary and we wanted a fancy dinner, we spent our dinner money on the amusment park called the North Pole.
She loved it and got to see Santa in early June. Strike one.
We let her start watching Christmas movies in October. Strike two.
And finally I sent her a letter from Santa. Strike three.

Now she hates us because she wants to go live with Santa and can not understand why we can't "just let [her] go live where [she] wants to live! Oy! She's only 5!

So now, even though I love Christmas, I really hate Santa right now and can not remember why I wanted my daughter to believe in him. It seems very counterproductive that I spend my entire year being a mom and making her eat her veggies and go to bed on time, and the credit for the one really awesome thing I do all year goes to some stupid fat man.
I don't even want to share the credit with Mr. H. I'm th one that wrote that letter that she is carrying in her back pocket.
I'm the one that painstakingly picked out the world's best scooter that is currently hiding in my garage waiting for Christmas morning and my daughter is like, "Bitch I hate living with you and all your stupid vegetables and bedtimes! I want to live at the North Pole!" (Obviously she didn't say that, it was just implied).
I never had this problem with Boy. He believed but he wasn't insane.

Nutcrackin'

2008-12-06T21:36:00.004-06:00

I've given up a lot since we moved to Central Illinois from Chicago. Don't get me wrong, we've gained a lot too: Mr. Hobbitfeet found a career, graduated from college, and we were able to buy a house, but there are things we really miss about Chicago. The chief of which is culture.
To make up for this I decided to take my family to see a production of The Nutcracker at the University of Illinois, which is still quite a drive, but what's an hour here or there?
Because it was at a college, the cast was really young, and though it was a lovely production there were definitely things about the professional production that I missed. My biggest disappointment came in the second act when instead of real Russian dancing, several pairs of young children did regular couples' ballet.
Since neither Mr. Hobbitfeet, nor the kids had seen The Nutcracker so they were quite content. Boy wished there were more clarinets, but otherwise he was happy. Maybe next year we'll have to just make a Chicago trip and see it there.

When Christmas Cards Go Bad

2008-12-05T15:32:00.003-06:00

I spent almost an hour last night trying to get the picture taken for our Christmas card. It did not go well. I couldn't get a single picture where both kids looked nice. Eventually my kids got annoyed and wouldn't even smile for the camera. These were the best of the bunch, and that's just pathetic.

Nothing Smaller Than Your Elbow

2008-12-04T20:59:00.002-06:00

When I was a baby, pre-talking but able to move on my own, I stuck a pebble up my nose. My mom never let me forget it. She kept it for years up until she moved out of the house I grew up in when I was in my early twenties. She told everybody about it too. My friends, boyfriends, whoever she could and then she'd show it to them. Tell them about how I couldn't talk but kept yelling at the doctors and nurses, about how they almost had to slice open my "poor little nose", about how a sympathetic nurse made a last ditch effort and got it out.
It used to mortify me when she'd tell it too. That is until I learned how to ask, "Well I was one, how come someone wasn't watching me?" Then she'd stop picking on me and blame my dad.

Well, as of today, I have something to hold over my daughter's head for the next twenty years. Today I was reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone to my five year old daughter, and after she told me she was going to do a magic trick, I looked up from the book to find she had stuffed one of the beads from her jewelery making kit into her ear. I think she was going to make it appear from her ear like that quarter trick. She kind of missed the point.
Anyhow, she was trying to get it out for a few seconds before I realized what had happened, and it got pushed pretty far into her ear.
I freaked out and kept yelling at her not to touch anything. It was really up there and I was afraid to try anything and risk popping something. Of course it was noon and her Dr. was at lunch. The emergency room said I'd have an hour wait there anyhow so I should just hang out until her Dr. came back (It's at this point that I would like to point out that I live in a small town of around 20,000 people, and while the hospital does serve the next town over as well, they aren't much larger and I doubt I would have had to wait an hour unless it was just that the ER was on their lunch break).
At any rate, since I had to wait any how, I decided to give one thing a try. I took the straw from Girl's cup and stuck it near her ear canal and sucked. It didn't move the bead a lot, but it pulled it down enough that I could grab it with a tweezers without putting the tweezers into her ear canal.

And once again the day (and hundreds of dollars in medical expenses) is saved thanks to Super-mommy.

By the way, learning from my feelings about that stupid rock, I took a picture of the bead and then cleaned it off and put it back with her jewelery kit.

Notice the bead is a Y for Why would you stick this in your ear.

Just To Let You Know I'm Alive

2008-12-04T07:37:00.004-06:00

I would like to pretend that I haven't been posting because I live a wonderfully fantastic life and I've been out living it; however, I don't. I just decided not to bore people with my current, wake up, get my kids off to school, clean my house, clean my mother's house, come home, take my kids to their activities, make dinner, eat dinner, watch T.V. until bedtime lifestyle.
It's a glamorous life I know.
I've become a hermit and not even an interesting one. I think I would rather be the kind of hermit that hops out from behind bushes and says something random before hitting people on the head with a stick. That would be great.
But mostly I just don't talk to people.
I did have a rather lengthy conversation with my husband the other day about why I don't think movies like Porky's or American Pie are funny which basically involved me picking on him for not dating in high school. Well, mostly him thinking I was picking on him for not dating in high school. I wasn't.
Can you tell I haven't been talking to people lately.

Conversations With My Husband

2008-11-09T20:59:00.004-06:00

Me: (Singing crappy Barbie jingle that has been stuck in my head all day)

Mr. Hobbitfeet: I don't even know what to say to that.

Me: I remember that song because I totally wanted that Barbie Dream Kitchen and didn't get it. I think my mom felt that Barbie furniture was unnecessary and that we should just make do with whatever was lying around.

Mr. H.: (Making legs out of his fingers) Weeeee! I'm a Barbie look at meeee!

Me: Idiot! We had Barbies just not a lot of furniture.

Mr. H.: Well, why not make the Barbies up too?

Me: I practically did, my sisters didn't let me play. . .

Mr. H.: Yeah and you got the bald ones I know!

Me: Don't forget naked!

Mr. H.: Yeah naked. Poor baby. I was the youngest of seven, if I didn't eat my food in 3.5 seconds flat, I didn't eat!

Me: Uh-huh sure! Also, sometimes their feet would be chewed off.

Mr. H.: Geez that sounds like something from a chemo ward.

Me: What!? Cancer patients have feet!

Mr. H.: Not if they have foot cancer!

Me: I'm not sure I've heard of foot cancer.

Mr. H.: Only Barbies get it.

Me: This conversation is stupid.

Mr. H.: Hey! Guess what?

Me: What?

Mr. H.: "We girls can do everything with Barbie!"

Me: (sigh) "We girls can do ANYTHING. RIGHT, Barbie?"

Mr. H.: Whatever. I'm sure Girl will correct me on it again tomorrow.

Me: It's from the 80's. . .

Mr. H.: I don't care!

Things to Do When Your Kids are in Bed

2008-11-09T20:36:00.003-06:00

I just watched all of the Drunk History episodes that they have on Funny or Die and loved them. My favorite is the one with the drunk, female historian because of the way that the actors do every hiccup. Check them out.

"They'll let any A**hole be a Father"

2008-11-06T19:04:00.003-06:00

I try very hard to not be a judgemental mom. I'd be the first to say I fail at that on a regular basis, but I try. I've recently had an experience, however, that made me want to get up and yell at someone about their horrible parenting. I didn't, because I knew nothing would come of it but a headache and drama so I didn't, but I was close.
See, lately I've been spending a lot of time at the YMCA while Boy is at swim team practice. It's real nice cause Mr. Hobbitfeet takes Girl home with him and I can just read a book and chat with the other parents for nearly two hours.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays the Y has swim lessons after swim team practice. It can sometimes get very crowded and rowdy in the waiting area on those days. Last Tuesday I was lost in my book. A little brother was waiting the whole time with his mom and I occasionally let him borrow toy cars from my purse. It kept him quiet and helped this mom.
About a half hour before practice ended a kid came in with his dad and got ready for swim lessons. Again, I was in my book so I wasn't noticing a whole lot. That is until this kid started going nuts.
He was running around, chatting with anyone who would listen, bullying the little brother, screaming, yelling, and jumping. I looked around hoping his Dad would come and put a stop to it. Another swim team mom said, "I think he left!" The mom with the little brother tried to engage him in conversation, found out he was 6 among other things. He wouldn't settle and we all went in to mom mode. I doled out cars and made garages out of paper cups. Little Brother's mom tried to get the staff involved but it was clear that 20 minutes before his class, this boy's dad had dropped him off at the Y wearing nothing but swim trunks. Then he pooped his pants.
Finally we got the staff to listen to us. The director got him a new suit out of the lost and found. His swim teacher searched the Y for the dad (who had, in fact, left) and we got him settled to playing with Little Brother and the cars. Finally practice was over, the boy went in for his lessons and I packed up my cars (grateful once again that I have so much crap in my purse). Why the Y opted to take care of things rather then check their records and call his parents was beyond me, but they chose to wait until the Dad picked him up before talking with him.
Too bad the story doesn't end there.
Today the spazzy little kid was back, still a half hour early, still wearing nothing but trunks, but his dad stuck around, at least physically. He ignored the kid the whole time, letting him run around just as much as he did on Tuesday. His dad just played his DS. I am not surprised. It's just that these are the cases when I wish people had to get licenses to have kids.

Halloween

2008-11-05T17:52:00.003-06:00

I hope everyone had a nice Halloween. Mine was okay. After a discussion with Boy we agreed he would Trick-or-Treat with us for one last year. We did bring his buddy with us, which kind-of didn't work out as his friend was slightly whiny and because of him we only went out for about an hour and a half of our town's trick-or-treat hours. We usually go for at least another half hour but Boy's friend complained about everything including thinking that he had flat-feet and had maybe inherited his mother's Plantar Fasciitis.

Oh, well! We have plenty of candy and Girl only complained about going in early a little bit. The Dr. Horrible costume turned out pretty nice and the weather was the nicest Halloween weather I had ever experienced.

Here I Sit Broken Hearted!

2008-10-29T23:12:00.002-05:00

A week or so when I started this horrible project of making a Dr. Horrible Lab coat for Boy's halloween costume, he peeked into the room and informed me that next year he would be to old for trick-or-treating. I was sad, but I still got to dress him like a little Dr. Horrible so I was dealing (mostly).
Tonight he came in and asked if he could go trick-or-treating with his friend on Friday. I said yes, but when he left I cried like a big baby. I'm taking this harder than when he stopped believing in Santa Claus. What's wrong with me?

An American Dream

2008-10-27T22:57:00.003-05:00

I never thought anything would drive the stupid F.A.O Schwartz song (Welcome to our world... Welcome to our world Welcome to our World of Toys...) out of my head. That is until I took my daughter to American Girl Place last Friday.

From beginning to end only one song was playing in this mecca of consumerism. Unfortunately most of the song was quiet so I was only able to here the chorus over and over again. "Circle of Friends." I reminded me a lot of the Duff Beer song "Duff Beer for me, Duff Beer for you, I'll have a Duff you have one too."

I wanted to break one of the glass cases that they keep the dolls in and jam a shard through my temple.

I know that Girl loved it. Who wouldn't love being sent loose in a store designed specifically for your current interest and being told to pick almost anything you want (courtesy of Grandma)? By that I mean any accessories for her new doll. Because yes (if you haven't worked it out), despite the heated debate, Girl got her American Girl doll.

I have never felt more out of place. Nothing can make you feel more out of place than hanging out on the Magnificent Mile in a store full of dolls whose outfits are more expensive than the one you are wearing. Plus the whole thing is set up to suck every dime from you.

But all of it was worth it because Girl is insanely happy. Grandma even got her PJ's and a shirt that matched her doll, and a picture that commemorated the whole thing.

(I think the photographer had her smile like that because up until that moment, I've never seen her smile with her front teeth sticking out and when I first saw the dolls I wondered why every one of them had their teeth sticking out).

Happy Birthday!

2008-10-23T09:14:00.003-05:00

A great big happy birthday to Girl today. She's five (going on 21) and is, "having the best day ever!"

I'll save why it's not my best day ever for another time.

And So It Begins

2008-10-19T11:47:00.004-05:00

Farm and Fleet and Kmart have been running Christmas ads all week. My daughter demanded four Christmas songs at bedtime. Our leaves only began falling this week, but Christmas has already come to my house.
I have a dream that one day I will be allowed to celebrate my holidays in order. That at some point my little girl will not listen almost exclusively to Christmas music from September to February. I dream that someday we won't visit Santa in June (like we did this year thanks to a Christmas-themed amusement park in Colorado) and Elf won't be put in our DVD player until after Thanksgiving instead of in late August.
These are my dreams. Dear Santa Claus, it's all I want for Christmas.

Ranting about Morning People

2008-10-16T07:37:00.003-05:00

I am up two hours earlier than I normally am on a Thursday, and I am not happy about it. Mr. Hobbitfeet yelled and slammed something around in the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. and woke Girl and I. He tried to put her into bed with me, but she "felt in her bones that [she] should be awake" and refused to settle back down. When I said (sarcastically) "This early morning waking is brought to you by Mr. H." He slammed out of the house and took off for work with wheels squealing.
I have trouble unwinding at night. Unlike Mr. H., who falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow and can fall asleep again if he wakes up in the night, I take a long time to fall asleep. If I go to bed at 9, I won't fall asleep until midnight, so I don't get up easily in the morning.
I don't think it's fair. When I am awake at night and everyone else is asleep, I am quiet. I avoid activities that would wake people up.
Not so for Mr. Hobbitfeet. He slams cabinet doors. Whacks at the toilet paper roll so I can her it unrolling Thwack-a-thwack-a-thwack-a-thwack.
I found this to be true of most morning people. It's almost as if they are pissed off that people are able to sleep after they get up and are eager to share the burden of being awake.
I remember once in college I had a friend that worked nights at a group home and wouldn't get to bed until 7 a.m. She was going to move out so the landlord wanted to show the apartment but had called when she wasn't home, so decided to show it anyway at around 9 a.m. and was pissed that my friend was still in bed.
Also once when I was working at the hospital, I was in at 8:00 (we live on farmer time out here) and an old woman came in looking for my boss and couldn't believe that she wasn't in at 8:15 a.m. She actually asked me if my boss was lazy. What?
That is probably my least favorite thing about being down here. When I lived in Chicago, people wouldn't call or mow their lawn until 10 a.m. Down here the "polite time" seems to be 8 a.m.
Hopefully I'll be able to get Girl down for a nap later (not holding my breath) until then I have to deal with my exhaustion

My Kingdom for a Bathroom Key

2008-10-14T20:56:00.002-05:00

The next town over has a very old library. One of the best things about this library is that in the children's section there is a carpeted area that very clearly used to be a stage and it's loaded up with toys.
After her swim lessons today, Girl begged me to take her to this library which was only about a block away from the Y.M.C.A (where her lessons were). Very happy to get out of yet another afternoon of watching her attempt to cross the monkey bars, I quickly agreed.
We spent a good chunk of time there, with her playing with the Polly Pockets from my purse in their giant dollhouse (there were no dolls for the dollhouse) or playing with cars from my purse on the giant parking garage/track (there were no cars for the track) and I read my book and occasionally read books to her (Fancy Nancy: Bonjour, Butterfly; Pinkalicious; and No Zombies Allowed) I am telling you the titles in a kind of one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-others-type scenario.
At any rate as 4-year-olds (two weeks from their 5th birthday) are wont to do, Girl needed to use the facilities, and as they are also wont to do, she didn't tell me until she was potty dancing.
I ran right over to the children's section desk and asked the clerk where the bathrooms were located.
"Oh, well the upstairs bathrooms are closed because of vandalism, you'll have to use the ones in the lower basement, but first you'll have to go to the main desk and get the key," he replied.

Grrr!

Let me give you an idea of the layout of this library in which this event is taking place. As I've said, it's an old building, the kind with high ceilings where the first floor is actually about a half a floor up and there are several flights of stairs before you get to the second floor. The children's section is on the second floor, the lower basement is actually three floors down. Did I mention my daughter is dancing?

So we bolt down the stairs (pausing briefly at the second floor bathrooms to determine that they are in fact locked). We rush down four flights of stairs and hurry over to the front desk, which is completely empty. A heavyset, old lady wearing cataract surgery lenses under regular glasses scoots out of the office and walks away from us with a stack of DVDs in one hand, holding the walls for support with the other. "I'll be right with you dear," she calls over her shoulder. I look at my daughter, her legs are crossed, her hand is firmly gripping her crotch and she is still dancing. "It's a bit urgent," I call back. I am ignored.
The old lady reappears and SLOOOOOOWLY makes her way to us. "We need the bathroom key," I explain quickly patting my daughter's head.
"Well, I need your library card." I scramble through my purse to get my wallet and practically fling it towards her as I make a grab for the tiny key attached to a giant purple dowel rod.
She backs away faster than I thought possible given her previous manner of movement.
"No, dear, you have to check it out."
She shakily makes her way to the computer scans my card and then scans a bar code attached to the dowel rod and slooooowly hands both back to me. I grab my daughter under my arm and make a Heisman-style dash to the stairs and go down six more flights. After a battle with an ancient uncooperative lock I get my daughter inside where she barely makes it to the toilet.

Now that the task is complete I can fully appreciate how fucking mad I am.

We return to the front desk and my little girl wants to return the key, but I want to yell (or whisper furiously as it is a library).

You need to know that I love libraries with my heart and soul. Almost all of my favorite places have been libraries and this one is no exception, it's lovely.

Finally after she helps the several elderly ahead of us in line, I approach the desk and ask cataract-lady who is in charge.
"That's me actually."
I proceed to tell her how fully irritated I am. My speech was lengthy and included forays into my daughter's constitutional right not to have an accident, and reminders about how she would be required to clean up any such messes and the greater danger of urine to books versus ink to walls. I also reminded her that public libraries were for the public and you shouldn't need a library card to pee.
All the while library patrons are staring and I am realizing I am not maintaining a library voice.
Finally I finish and the old lady looks at me and says in a very clear "I am brushing you off" voice, "I am sorry ma'am."
I grabbed my daughter's had and said (loudly for the benefit of my audience), "I don't want your apologies, I want you to fix your ridiculous policies!"
I wish old people had heard of the slow-clap, because I clearly deserved it here.
Anyways, we went back to the children's section to grab the books Girl wanted to take out and as we left I noticed the upstairs bathroom was open and a girl was scrubbing the walls.

I think I am still going to write to the local paper.

11 Years of Halloween

2008-10-13T22:56:00.006-05:00

So, I'm supposed to be making a Dr. Horrible costume for Boy and a fairy costume for Girl. Instead I am stalling like crazy and am presenting an eleven year retrospective of my children's Halloween costumes.

This is Boy's first Halloween (1997). He was the cutest little dragon in the kingdom.

Boy with his Godmother, K. in 1998. I think it's self-explanatory.

1999- A Jedi Master. This was taken after trick-or-treating. Always take pre-t-or-t photos.

In 2000 I was working for the Chicago Cultural Center organizing their annual Halloween party. The theme was Wizard of Oz for the 100th Anniversary of the book that Baum wrote while living in Chicago. I was Dorothy and Boy was Toto. Too bad he wouldn't look at the camera and too bad blue gingham isn't very flattering on me.

2001- Boy was Harry Potter and won a Harry Potter look-a-like contest. That little white thing is a mini-Hedwig which he carried instead of a wand. Boy loves animals.

2002- He was a turtle. The girl is my friend's daughter. They trick-or-treated together for the bulk of our years in Chicago.

2003- Girl's first Halloween, a short eight days after she was born. Everything was store bought this year because I was tired and uncomfortable all through October because of the 9+ lb. baby inside of me (and PUPPP). Girl was a butterfly and Boy was Frodo, note the furry feet (a nod to Mr. Hobbitfeet)

2004- Our first Halloween downstate. Boy was a generic wizard (not Harry Potter at all) and Girl was a Fall Fairy. She had a nice pointy hat too that was my big thing that year. The night after the town parade, we found out Girl had Pneumonia so she missed trick-or-treating, but won the Under 3 costume contest.

2005- A velvet ant and a purple Unicorn. I made both of these, but the velvet ant was almost impossible.

2006- Dorothy and a Bionicle. Boy really wanted me to make his Bionicle costume but I refused as I was still recovering from the velvet ant, but I made Girl's though in this picture it is mis-shaped because of the many layers she was wearing under the outfit.

And finally 2007. Boy was (clearly) Luigi and Girl wanted with all her heart to be Wonder Woman. I gave in and bought Wonder Woman because, come on, that costume was awesome. Boy won 2nd place in the 10-12 costume contest. 1st place went to the parade director's niece in a very lame store-bought fairy princess dress. Lame!

My Worst School Picture

2008-10-10T09:15:00.006-05:00

October is the time of school pictures. In honor of that, I present my absolute worse school picture ever! I have been cleaning my mom's house, and I stumbled across this gem and decided that it needed to be shared. I believe that this was my 1st grade picture which would make it about 1983.
There are so many, many things wrong with this picture, the hair that may have been cut by a lawn mower, the missing teeth (that may have been cute if I had smiled instead of saying cheese) and the dress. Oh, Lord that dress! It was something that was bought (and inexplicably dyed brown) for my stint as a flower girl in my Aunt C.'s wedding but was then rejected when they found much cuter flower girl dresses. The whole picture is made even worse by the fact that it comes just one year after one of my favorite school pictures- kindergarten:

On the whole, my school pictures were not horrible (first grade not withstanding), however, I have had some odd fashion choices like in 3rd grade when I am indistinguishable from Bobby Brady or in 5th grade when I wore a silk, kimono-style shirt, or in 6th grade when I wore a shirt with a giant cow on it. You can wait with baited breath for these gems.

Oh and can I just say, "Damn! I had me some big ole ears!"

Bedtime Stories (a Fun Monday Assignment)

2008-10-06T00:03:00.001-05:00

Mommy Wizdom is hosting Fun Monday today and she has an odd request that we write something on one of three topics using certain words. Get the full scoop (and the full list of participants) at her site.

Once again I plodded down the hall, feeling lethargic from a day of playing with my children in their treehouse, endlessly searching for enemies with a homemade periscope. Wanting to do nothing more than curl up with a couple of magazines and a number tequila shots, I turned the doorknob and prepared to make up yet another story so that my children would happily fall asleep.
As I entered the room, I saw both my children snuggled up in my daughter’s bed, complete with her stuffed ostrich and both of our cats.
“So what do you want to hear tonight kids?”
“Something that will give us Goosebumps mom,” chirped my son.
“Definitely not,” I retorted.
“Tell us the one about the prehistoric man who lived on nothing but noodles, soup, and biscuits!” My daughter squealed at the top of her lungs.
“Not again,” moaned my son, “how about the one where the Jedi Knight accidentally lands on earth and tries the Jedi mind trick on a cactus that he mistakes for a person with his hands up!”
“Sounds like a winner,” I said, smirking proudly at my son’s odd sense of humor.

Don't Sweetie Me!

2008-10-02T22:24:00.002-05:00

Today I had to go to a mechanic for my mom's truck.

The jerk kept calling me "Sweetie," which pissed me off.

If you are the kind of person that calls strangers by over-familiar pet names, STOP IT! It's condescending and mean.

I don't know anybody that likes that, but I like it less then most people.

My immediate family might get away with it, but even that is unlikely. Occasionally Mr. Hobbitfeet calls me "Honey-bunny," which gives me an annoying flashback to my senior-year boyfriend who called me on the phone shortly after we saw Pulp Fiction in the theater. He jokingly called me "Honey-Bunny" on the answering machine, and my mother has never let me live it down.
Now when Mr. H. calls me that I want to punch him in the nuts. Now if I feel that way when my husband calls me a pet name, imagine how feel when a complete stranger says it to me.

So, I am not entirely sure how I'll feel about this mechanic, it's the first time I've ever been to see him, but I do doubt I'll go back, because he thinks I'm a sweetie, and I'm anything but sweet.

And Your Name Is?

2008-10-01T20:08:00.002-05:00

There is a kid that is in all of the same activities as Boy. ALL of the same activities. I talk to his mom all of the time. Her kid is great. She's extremely sweet. It's all hearts and doves and candies.

The problem is, I have no freaking clue what her name is.

It's been three and a half years. I am way past the Mrs. B. stage. I can't call her V.'s mom. We have swapped stories about everything under the sun. We've sat next to each other during all day swim meets. We happily greeted each other at band concerts.

Now I am too embarrassed to ask her name.

I feel like a sitcom.

Breaking Her Mommy's Heart Since 2003

2008-09-30T23:15:00.002-05:00

Sometimes as a mom you have these moments with your kids that just rip your heart out. It's possible you have these moments as a dad too, but I can only tell you what it's like from my side of the fence. Also, when I tell Mr. Hobbitfeet these things, he laughs at me which leads me to suspect that men are heartless and a little mean. Again, I only base this on my experience so if you are a dad, I get that you might not be heartless and mean, but come on, you are.
At any rate I had to of these instances today.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays Girl stays home with me. Tuesdays used to be horrible. We had a whole day of not a whole lot and then after 3:30 p.m. we were running around crazy trying to fit in Boy's swim team practice, Girl's gymnastics class, and then Girl's swim lessons. All this took place the next town over so we weren't getting home again until 7:15 p.m. Since Girl is 4 and she has school the next day, her bed time is supposed to be 7:30, and we still had to get dinner in her, and Girl hates eating dinner.
Obviously this system wasn't working, so after the last session of swim classes finished we switched her to private lessons on Tuesday mornings. Today was the first day of the new schedule and the plan was for Mr. Hobbitfeet to pick her up after gymnastics and take her home while I stayed with Boy at his swim team practice.
It worked well until I was leaving gymnastics to head back to the YMCA. I pulled out of the lot and suddenly heard this heart-stopping scream. I look in my mirror to see Mr. H. running after the car. I seriously thought I had run over my daughter.
What actually happened was, Girl had been practicing cat's cradles all day with a piece of string, that she had left in the car when she went in to gymnastics. When she realized the string was still in my departing car, she screamed, escaped her father's grip and chased my car. The reason I only saw Mr. H. as he chased her was that she was too damn short to even be seen from my Honda Civic. I had a heart attack, but Mr. H. got her damn string. Awesome.
Later as I was singing her her four goodnight songs, she did it to me again. Usually when I sing her songs she'll say something like, "princess songs tonight Mommy," and I'll bust out my memorized Disney songs. Sometimes she wants Annie songs, or occasionally Dr. Horrible. Tonight she wanted me to pick, so I started with Baby Don't You Cry (the pie song from Waitress), transitioned smoothly into Baby Mine (from Dumbo), and then blanked on a soft slow song so sang Me and Bobby McGee, changing the words so I said her name in place of Bobby's like I have since she was a baby.
That brought it on. For the first time ever, Girl realized what it meant when I said, "One day up near Salinas, Lord, I let her slip away," and started bawling. Inconsolable she started this sad story about how three of us (Me, Boy, and Girl presumably) would go on vacation leaving the other three (again I am presuming, Mr. Hobbitfeet, Mr. Giles, and Willow) at home. Then she would really miss them. Her heart was broken. She cried for a long time before I was able to cheer her up with some Dr. Horrible. Uggh. Kids.

Alvin or Simon he's not.

2008-09-29T23:15:00.002-05:00

My garden, my house, and my cat are under attack.

He is evil. He is fast. He is focused, and he might be a she.

The little terror has torn up all of my flower beds in search of delicious tulip bulbs.

He had made my cat go insane with rage and hunting desires.

He is pissing me off.

But what do you do with a chipmunk when you feel horrible about killing other living creatures?

I am aware that I eat meat, but I do that for sustenance. Killing something so I can have pretty flowers next Spring just seems mean.

I let my cat out this morning so she could have at it. She mostly peed on it's tunnels and stuck her arm fruitlessly down the holes. I am thinking of renaming her Elmer Fudd.

This is Halloween

2008-09-26T00:09:00.002-05:00

I get a little too into Halloween. I love making costumes for my kids. I really try and let them choose whatever they can come up with, limited only by my ability to create an outfit. There have been times when I bought their costumes particularly if they had a difficult one the year before. Also the year Girl was born (8 days before Halloween) everything was store bought.

So now It's the time when we start thinking about what is to come. Girl is a big waffler she can't decide if she wants to be a cheerleader, Tinker Belle, or a princess. It changes everyday.

Boy, however, has it down. He knows that if he doesn't tell me with enough time, he won't get what he wants. So what's it going to be?

Originally he was going to borrow his sister's Hannah Montana wig, his Grandma's sunglasses, and be a hippy, but he has since ditched them for an awesome Dr. Horrible costume that I will be making. He is so very much like me it's scary.

So get ready for Dr. Horrible and a Tinker Belle/Cheerleader/princess.

This One Time at Band Camp.

2008-09-19T22:31:00.005-05:00

Boy had his first contest as part of the "real" band at his school. The 5th grade band (that he was in last year) is just a practice band and other than a couple recitals, did not do a whole lot. The 6th grade band gets sweaters and gets to play one night (tonight) at the high school football game during half time.
I "helped" the band tonight, which basically meant I sat next to the band and made sure no older kids hit our kids and called them band geeks, which is what the director was worried about. Seriously, that's what she told us.
At any rate the band was seated in a special area with the high school and Jr. high bands, the dance troop, etc. There was so much unbridled school spirit I felt like I was in a Beach Boys song.

Be true to your school,
Just like you would to your girl!

I have no school spirit and stuck out like a sore thumb. My nephew, Little D also came, (late) with my mom. The kids did great even though they looked tiny on the field next to the Jr. and Senior High kids.

Home Movie Nightmares

2008-09-18T08:02:00.003-05:00

My mom has a "farm" about 20 minutes north of us. Although the 10 acres that they rent out to a local farmer make it technically a farm, it's more of a weekend home. My mom works in Chicago during the week, my step-father putters.
Recently I have been doing work around the farm because we need a little extra cash to pay for all of our kids activities and for the upcoming gift-giving season.
As I was cleaning her living room, I ran across a massive box full of videotapes, including, several of our home movies. So I borrowed some to take a gander.
Back in the early to mid eighties my parents bought a video cassette recorder. It consisted of two different machines that were connected together, it had a remote that was attached to a long wire. It also came with a camera. Unlike cameras of today it was huge and bulky. In order to work it, you toted part of the VCR on your shoulder like a purse and the camera was attached with a wire. It was cutting-edge technology people.
The tapes that I had were mostly family vacations, birthday parties, and Christmases. I'd say about 80% of the family vacations were shots out the window as we drove. A good 10% were either my mom or my dad not turning the camera off right and we'd see wildly spinning views of the world as they put it down, then a sideways view of the world and people having everyday conversations in the background. There was also quite a bit of time of my parents telling me or my sisters to get out of the shot while they panned the landscape.
What I've realized is that 1.) unlike Hollywood movies, I will probably never look back at these movies crying about what fun we had. 2.) I will probably never be able to watch these movies without getting motion sickness. 3.) As much as I joke about it, there was a very real point in my life when I walked around looking like Bobby Brady, and 4.) I really hope I never wear my pants that high again.
Probably the best part of the home movies was that the last Christmas was taped over a recording that my mother made of Little Miss Marker when it was on WGN in (probably) November 1984. Mr. H. and I really enjoyed fast forwarding the movie and watching all of the commercials. In addition to a really old White Castles commercial about a bunch of college kids driving an hour to get some hamburgers (possible inspiration for Harold and Kumar), there were a bunch of commercials for furniture stores that featured some really awful looking furniture which at the time was probably very stylish, and a bunch of old jingles to which I could sadly still sing along.
Come on let's here it:

Motra, Motra, Motra, Motra
Now my car shifts sweet!
giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up
Motra, Motra, Motra, Motra
At a price you can't beat!
giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up
You better shift to the Motra
and shift for the better right now!

But by far my favorite was for Love's Baby Soft, that showed a teenage girl and boy falling in love because she was wearing Love's Baby Soft. I looked for it on Youtube with no success. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to get the videotape into my computer so I could share it.

Bad Mommy

2008-09-16T19:52:00.003-05:00

My daughter is in private school for preschool. More specifically she's in Catholic preschool. At the beginning of the year we got our "parent contract" where we had to pick three things we'd like to do for service hours. Then we had to rate them 1, 2, and 3 so that they could ~~force~~ help us volunteer for the activity best suited for us.
Last year I volunteered for the library. I want to go back to school to become a librarian so I thought it would be good practice. That was until I discovered I was the only person that would be working in the library and that when I wasn't there, the library wasn't closed. Every Wednesday I walked in to find a mountain of books on the desk, all the shelves in disarray, several new books to hand write into the system and only four hours to get it all done.
I didn't volunteer for the library this year.
This year I volunteered to create the school calendar that is supposed to go out with the student directory. I figured that I have desktop publishing experience and Microsoft Publisher, which while a far cry from the QuarkXpress, is a doable program.
Let me tell you, when you get used to a user friendly program like QuarkXpress, going back to publisher is like trying to play the original Super Mario Bros. again after years on current gaming platforms. Have you ever done that?
Don't get me wrong I love me some NES, but it's hard to play Super Mario Bros. now. If you miss something, that's it. You can't go back. Games now you can wander all over the place. The original SMB just goes one direction.
My point here is that the calendar is not going well.
It didn't help that this afternoon, a smug mom called me this afternoon because she finished the directory and wanted to know where I was at with the calendar. Damn it if all I had to do was input the information for under 150 students into Excel, I would have been done already too.
I suck! Better get back to work.

Fun Monday: Collections

2008-09-15T07:23:00.004-05:00

Today, Rayne at Crunchy Bits is hosting Fun Monday and she wants to see either our junk or something we collect.

I collect matryoshkas (or nesting dolls).

From the above pictures you might think I have a bunch, but I don't. I could use some more. See when you pack them up, there are only seven sets.

I will also mention that my inlaws inexplicably think that I collect these:

I blame my husband. I used to have a full set of Care Bear glasses that he instantly broke within a month of us living together. I think he told them I collected Care Bears, what he didn't get was that I just loved the glasses. I also have a set of Smurf glasses (which Mr. H. isn't allowed to touch), it doesn't mean I collect Smurfs.

Oh . . .

. . .well there's that one.

Now go to Cruncy Bits and find out who else participated.

Pictures of Me Friday

2008-09-12T15:11:00.004-05:00

It is Friday right? I've already been asked what I've been smoking so I thought I'd show you the most embarrassing picture of me that exists

Yeah, that's a seven year old me at my first communion. That's one of my mom's brothers rocking in the foreground and my Catholic school girl uniform hanging up on the right. Why it's in the garage, at my first communion party is beyond me. I'll counteract this awful picture with my favorite picture of me.

This is me sophomore year of high school. Damn, I love me in this picture. But I'm way too hot for my date. What a nerd! And, I stole him from my friend, that's what makes it worse. I had to get her a date with my best guy friend just so she wouldn't hate me.

Then I do one more picture that more shows the real me.
This is me with my first car. I shared it with my sister, and it smelled like coconuts the entire time we had it because the guy we bought it from hid coconut air fresheners everywhere. But, I still kind of dress like that. Isn't that pathetic?

About Now, Only Seven Years Back

2008-09-10T07:35:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who had to live with her dad because she had a baby while in college, was not making a whole lot of money, and getting no child support (and never did for that matter).

It was January of 2001 and she got a job working for Chicago Visitor Information and met a man (seven years her senior) who also worked in Chicago Visitor Information. She loved everything about him. Every Thursday, the only day they worked together, he would bring her (and everybody else, but she pretended it was just her) a copy of the new Chicago Reader and always sang, "I'm picking out a Reader for you, not an ordinary Reader will do!" to the tune of the Thermos song from The Jerk. She loved that.

But alas, he wouldn't date her. He had dated some wack-a-doodle at his last job that inevitably made him leave, and he didn't want to leave this much better job because he dated another nut-job. He told her he just "wanted to be friends" because she was really nice. He told co-workers he couldn't date the girl because she had a kid and he hated kids.

So they went to movies alone together (as "friends") and went out together with other co-workers. He met her kid at a work picnic and liked that he wasn't a "whiny brat like most kids of single moms" (his words not hers).

The girl tried to be as witty as possible and wowed him with her ability to make obscure and dorky references. He laughed hysterically when the 500,000th tourist told her it was hot in the visitor center and she told him it was because they were making soylent green and the tourist said, "Oh, and it needs to be hot to make that?"

She loved him. She decided to pull out the big guns. So one day at work, she showed him her bra. She didn't yank up her shirt and flash him (come on they were at work) she just unbuttoned a couple buttons of her work shirt and let him look down at them. It was a pretty bra, dark purple and made out of a t-shirt material, but let's face it she had fabulous breasts and that's what really changed his mind.

He claims it was because he liked her daring. She knows that it was because he was in a two year dry spell and hadn't seen a breast that wasn't on a screen for a long time. In any case, he decided he would go for it, but didn't tell the girl.

So on a couple of their "friend" outings he made some pitiful attempts at come-ons, that she always missed (because they were pathetic). And finally, when watching videos, she decided that she only lived once and stopped being scared and sat down practically in his lap and kissed him. Four months later they were engaged. A year and three months after that they were married.

However, what we are celebrating is the girl showing off her bra, because let's face it, if she hadn't done that, they'd have never gotten anywhere.

Seven years ago, around this time, I showed Mr. H. my bra, which set off a series of ambiguous get-togethers that depending who you ask may-or-may-not have been dates that may-or-may-not have been our first date. There is the trip to the Brew and View to see Big Trouble in Little China (and the Mummy 2 accidentally), in which I was super sick that I backed away from him when he tried to kiss me.
The game night with co-workers when he put his hand on my back during Taboo and I later drove him home and he tried to hold my hand right when we got to the S-curve on Lake Shore Drive.
The night he came to watch the Pee-Wee Herman Show and Kiss Me Deadly at my house and was too afraid to do anything.
So these are the disastrous first dates that somehow magically began the magic love story of Woodlandmama and Mr. Hobbitfeet. It's amazing that we got anywhere.

Tending the Jungle

2008-09-09T14:04:00.005-05:00

I Know, I know, I already posted today and too many posts is against the blog handbook right? Well, guess what? I don't care!! Ha!

So I've been bitching for the last few weeks about my damn shingles. Well they hurt, and itched like a Mutha-Fucka and it made me whiney. Then it didn't help that I had an allergic reaction to my anti-virals. Not a anaphalactic reaction that sent me racing toward the nearest ER, but an annoying rash-reaction that had me rubbing my back against corners in order to get an itch in an unreachable place. Besides all that, there was another complication that I hadn't talked about.

You see, my shingles were on the nerve that runs to my arm. More specifically they were on my left right at the shoulder joint. So with the painful shingles and the crusty allergic reaction rash, my left arm (the one I use most) would not raise very far. Which sucks in a normal trying to get shit done way, but also made it impossible for me to shave my pits for two plus weeks.

Now, I'm a stupid American. I shave my legs and my pits. I even pluck the hair off my big toe. I hate weird hair in weird places. I won't stand for it. I know, I know, it's not very femminist of me, but I've been shaving my armpits every other day since I was twelve, before I even really had hair there. I'm not going to change that now.

On my head, I have thick dark, dark brown hair (some might even call it black). It doesn't bode well for body hair I think. At any rate, now that the shingles and rash are all but cleared up, I am once again able to lift my arms above my head. So I did, today in the shower. GAK!

That was unpleasant. Again, not a big fan of the body hair. Thankfully it's all taken care of, no more excessive body hair for me. Maybe, now Mr. H won't be disgusted by me anymore (just kidding it was probably the full body rash from the meds that kept him at bay).

Now if only I could find the tweezers for my big toe!

Mr. Hobbitfeet Goes To Soccer Practice

2008-09-09T08:15:00.008-05:00

Girl's fall soccer league started yesterday. I love it on so many levels, but that's not what I'm here to talk about.
Mr. Hobbitfeet hates going to soccer. Not because he doesn't like the game; next to baseball, soccer is Mr. H's favorite. Mr. H. hates soccer because of his name. In the real world, Mr. H. is not know as Mr. Hobbitfeet (actually I do call him that in the real world, but I'm the only one).
He has a real name, and it has the same first, middle, and last initial of all four of his brothers. He also has the exact same first and last name as one of S.E. Hinton's characters, but I know that wasn't my M.I.L's intention. No, she was out of names by the time she got to him (though there were plenty left) and named him after a television character. Back in the 70's and 80's, Mr. H never met a single person with his name (though, according to Social Security, it was in the top 1000 that whole time). Since 1990, though, it has been steadily growing in popularity until it broke in to the Top 40 last year. It's VERY popular in my town.
According to Mr. H., there is a certain type of person that names their kid his name now. I don't agree with him, Mr. H has a tendency to be a misanthropic asshole on occasion. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy but he doesn't like most people and is often very vocal about it. At any rate, I know several people whose kids have the same name as my husband, and I like them a lot, the kids and the moms. Also, I need to say, that Mr. H. has no problem with the kids, it's the parents he has a problem with.
I gotta tell you, too, that the people that sat next to us a soccer did nothing to rid Mr. H. of his prejudice of these people. There is a little boy on Girl's team named after Mr. H. and his parents were kind of pricks. I hate that; I never want Mr. H. to be right.
So, as they bellowed at their kid from the sidelines on my left, Mr. H. was very snarky on my other side. Often rooting for the kid (under his breath) to rebel against his parents. Then as we left he went on and on about it very loudly, until finally I said, "Okay hon, I get it but they're right behind us so can you stop being such a loud asshole right now." So he stopped, temporarily until we got to the car and then continued his tirade against "People who give their kids my name" ALL THE WAY HOME!!!
I really hope he doesn't pass this trait on to our kids, but I don't see how that won't happen if he won't listen to my pleas for him to shut up already. Secretly, I agreed about these particular people, I just didn't want to have to hear about it, and I will every soccer season for the rest of my life.

Luckily, Girl is super cute in her soccer gear!

Willow and Dell: A Love Story (Fun Monday)

2008-09-07T19:00:00.009-05:00

I am hosting this week, and the assignment was to write the 1st paragraph of an unusual love story. I admit it was hard, but I am look forward to seeing the results.

Willow would never forget the day he arrived. He came in a large box. Normally when a new box comes, all she could think about was climbing in and exploring the dark recesses; however, when she saw his shiny coat, she was intrigued. They rubbed the thing in certain places and he opened up even further. She couldn't keep her cat eyes off of him. He had a glow about him, and purred strangely when petted, almost a rhythmic clicking. She had to get closer, to really, truly know him. He seemed to welcome her advances. Oh, yes, he was a keeper.

Thanks to all the participants make sure you check out their love stories:

{i} Post
Jo Beaufoix
Hootin' Annie
lisaschaos
Sayre
Alison
faye
mamalang
hulagirlatheart
lil mouse
Tanya
Ricardo
Robin (Pensieve)
bejewell
Swampwitch
Margaret (Mama Drama)
Min (Mama Drama)
Stephanie (Mama Drama)
Rayne **Next Week's Host!**
IamwhoIam
Becca (Becca couldn't participate after all, swing by though and wish her luck on her emergency surgery)
Grace
Mariposa
Olive
The Prytz Family
Team Gherkin
The Bean

Laundry Day

2008-09-07T12:49:00.004-05:00

I am the only person in the house that does laundry. It's a choice really; my husband can't fold laundry for shit and I am sick of trying to show him the right way. Also, he has ruined too many of my clothes for me to allow it.
Most of the time, I don't mind. Mr. Hobbitfeet and Boy do the dishes. I almost never put my hands in the dish water. It's a pretty sweet trade off I think. Most of the time.
There are, however, four people in my house. Girl changes her outfit at least three times a day and tosses everything on the floor making it impossible to tell which are clean and which are dirty. Let's be honest, I never remember what she wore, or when and for how long she wore it. Also, I've had shingles for the past couple weeks. They were on my left shoulder, and I am left handed. If you've never had shingles, you should know that they run on a nerve line and hurt like crazy. I felt as if I had been shot in the shoulder, and everything I've read says the pain will stick around for at least another two or three weeks (if I am lucky).
What I am trying to say is, I haven't done the laundry in about 2 weeks, when I normally do it twice a week. Although Mr. H. stepped up and took over most the work while I was sick. He didn't do any laundry. Now I've been complained to, nobody has clothes, I need to pull my shit together and get it done.
Bugger.
This is when I hate laundry. When it's piled high and will take at least ten loads to make a noticeable dent and I have turned my bedroom floor into dirty clothes foothills. I

C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R!

2008-09-05T21:51:00.003-05:00

So Jenboglass at the Steenky Bee was talking about Grease and Grease II, which for some reason made me want to watch Grease II. Unlike her, I actually own the movie. I got it as a twofer from Best Buy when I bought the original.
Truthfully, I know every word to every song. Thanks to my cousins K. and A., I saw the movie several times a month as a kid.

After hearing a few songs from her room, Girl joined me. She may have thought I was watching High School Musical or some other wacky Disney movie. The following were actual coversations that occured during the movie (keep in mind she 4, oh sorry, 4 and a half).

Girl: So wait, what is that guy doing?
Me: He's learning to ride a motorcycle.
Girl: Why?
Me: Because he likes Stephanie and she told him she wants a "cool rider."
Girl: Mommy, that doesn't make sense.

Girl: Okay, who's the guy that built the motorcycle, and who is the guy who rides it?
Me: They're both the same guy. They're both Michael.
Girl: Who is he trying to be? Is he a superhero?
Me: I don't know baby I guess.

Girl: Mommy, is Michael dead?
Me: We're supposed to think he is.
Girl: That girl shouldn't have made him be a "cool rider."

Girl: Is that Michael, is he in heaven?
Me: Yup. Stephanie's dreaming.
Girl: And she's in heaven.
Me: Yup.
Girl: Wait, his motorcycle's in heaven? Mommy, motorcycles don't go to heaven.

Girl: Well that was a good movie, Mommy, but High School Musical is better.

What We Fight About

2008-09-05T09:50:00.005-05:00

Me: I think the cat is jealous that you take the dog for walks. You should probably sneak out when she's not looking.

Mr. Hobbitfeet: I'm not sneaking out!

Me: You're hurting her feelings! She thinks you don't love her!

Mr. H.: She's a cat. She doesn't get jealous.

Me: She just gets so sad. Maybe if she doesn't see you go out that wouldn't happen!

Mr. H.: Will you stop giving the pets human emotions!!! They don't think like that! All they think is "Feed Me," "Pet Me!"

Me: You're wrong.

Mr. H.: (Puts the dog on leash and slams out of the house)

Willow (the cat): (Jumping up on the back of the couch and looking pathetically out the window)Mwrooow! Mwrooow! Mwroooow!

Me: (muttering to self) Don't tell me the cat's not jealous.

The following are pictures of the cat watching the dog in the back yard.

Tell me she doesn't look jealous!

The Evolution of My Purse

2008-09-04T22:59:00.006-05:00

You know that in One Fine Day (come on if I saw it so did you) where Michelle Pfeiffer makes costumes for the two kids with shit from her purse? I've become that mom.

Some things you should know about me. I don't wear make-up, maybe a little bit of lipstick but rarely, and mostly it's Burt's Bees lipstick because it makes my lips feel tingly. I sometimes put it on like I'm going to wear it, then think I look silly and wipe it all off. I wore make-up when I was my BFF's Maid of Honor (because she paid to have my make-up done) and I wore make-up to my wedding (because my mom paid for me to have it done). Anytime I look at pictures of me from then, the make-up is all I can see.

The point is, I am mostly a wallet in my pockets kind of girl. I enjoyed having diaper bags, and for several years I had a small backpack (until it was stolen), but I tend to lose purses so I never wanted one. Slowly, however, I've been converted.

I started carrying a purse more when I got my iPod. A cell phone, a wallet, keys, and an iPhone were way to much for my pockets. So I started using a small purse. Then I got a Palm Pilot and my purses got a little bigger. I also got a couple so that they'd be a little matchy. Then I saw this red one that I liked. It reminded me of Wonder Woman's boots. So even though it was way bigger than any purse I'd ever had (but still quite small compared to most women's purses) I bought it.

One day, for some reason or another, I stuck a notepad in my purse (I already had two pens and a pencil for unimportant reasons). That day while we were waiting for something or another Girl was bored and I pulled out the notepad and enjoyed a stress-free waiting period while she drew. So I started to carry more stuff in my purse to entertain her.

One day, Girl and Boy were talking about how they loved riding in Daddy's car because he always had gum in it. So I tossed in some gum and butterscotch (because I always have to be the favorite).

We went somewhere and Girl's pants kept falling down, so I tossed in some safety pins. At Boy's swim meets we were supposed to write their events on their arms in Sharpie. I kept forgetting it so I put one in my purse. On and on it went. Yesterday, I was changing to a different purse and this is what I discovered:

My wallet (with wallety things)
2 Checkbooks
Tide to Go
Wet Ones single packs
A little mini-thing of standard size bandaids
two knee-sized bandaids
two pens
a sharpie
a pencil
five dice
a glue stick
scissors
Jr. Strength Tylenol
Children's Benedryl
Adult Benedryl
Advil
Neosporin
Purell
Hand Sanitizer (a generic kind)
Listerine strips
paperclips
Qtips
small bandaids
antiseptic wipes
rubber gloves
safety pins of all sizes
measuring tape
thread
needles
eyeglass screws and screwdriver
pack of old maid cards
pack of regular cards
binder clips
rubber gloves
plastic sandwich bags
carabiner
mirror
gum
sugarless Butterscotch
Carmex lip balm
Lip Smackers Cherry 7up lip balm
sunglasses
mirror
nail file
YMCA membership card on lanyard
five small cars
$10 in quarters
two notepads (one lined one unlined)
headphones
keys
iPod
Palm Pilot
brush with several hairbands on the handle.
and finally two extra batteries for my camera.

The truth is, I've used everything since I put it in my purse. Also, my purse isn't as messy and you'd think I keep the littler stuff in a pencil case and two travel pill box things I found at Walmart.

Now, what's in your purse?

Fun Monday 9/8/08

2008-09-02T00:00:00.007-05:00

So I am hosting the next Fun Monday, and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what I wanted everyone to do. I wanted to do something that hadn't been done before, but also something creative. It's not as easy as it looks from the other side of Fun Monday.
Then I had a dream, and I am not going to tell you about it, you'll have to wait until next Monday, but it inspired me. Here you go:

Write the beginning of an unusual love story (not a real one). I only want the first paragraph. You can add an illustration or a picture to spice it up if you are really daring.

Now don't be afraid. You blog, so you can do it. So, who's up for the challenge?

Participants:

Margaret (Mama Drama)

Min (Mama Drama)
Stephanie (Mama Drama)

Fun Monday Updated

2008-09-01T09:12:00.004-05:00

This Monday our host is Gattina over at Writer Cramps, and she wants us to:

I just want you to show us a picture of your blogging place!

This isn't very easy as I've been sick and I am really messy when I am sick, so I didn't want to show myself propped up on pillows with my laptop in my messy bedroom, which is where I've spent the last three days. I will show you what our desktop has looked like for the last three days though.

It's much more pleasant to see that anyway. I'm sick and gross! Go vist Gattina for the full list of participants, and come back tomorrow if you want to be a part of Fun Monday next week!

***Updated****
Everyone wanted to know so this is what they were looking at. Careful it's an ear worm.

Woodlandmama's Bug That Wasn't

2008-08-29T18:23:00.002-05:00

So apparently we don't have a strange bug that bites you while you sleep. Well, maybe Mr. Hobbitfeet and the kids do, but I just have Shingles, which is caused by the Chicken Pox.
The kids don't have chicken pox though according to their doctor (after she made me yank Boy out of school and rush him to her office). She confirmed he only had bug bites.
It's hard to imagine though since I only hang out with my husband and kids, how did I get exposed to chicken pox without them being exposed?
So I am in bed achy and bored. Who wants to play with a poxy mommy. Not my kids that's for sure!

We've Got Bugs.

2008-08-27T21:49:00.004-05:00

Mr. Hobbitfeet and the kids kept waking up with strange and very itchy bug bites for about a week. It got to the point where I was afraid we had bedbugs or scabbies or something equally gross, even though I didn't have a single bite. I decided to get all researchy to find out what I should do just in case.
So, I ended up removing all of our bedding and washing it in super hot water and dried it on high. Then I packed all of our pillows, and the kids' stuffed animals and soft bodied toys into black garbage bags and spreading them out in the back yard to heat in the sun, while I vacuumed all of our mattresses.
It didn't help; they still got a few bites. Then one morning I woke up to find dried blood all over my shoulder. I turned to look in the mirror and found huge welt-like bites all over my left shoulder. I'd post a picture, but I don't want you to puke, and it's hard to take a picture of the shoulder on your writing arm. Apparently, I had scratched them in my sleep because they were ripped up and clearly on there way to infection.
I do feel, however, that I have figured out the cause. It's called Oak leaf gall mites. It makes a lot of sense for us because we are surrounded by oak trees and the bites have generally occurred on days when we were outside in our yard a lot. I guess we'll just have to shower after being outside for a while.
But mostly I feel like bugs are crawling all over me (I know it's just in my head). These are the kind of things that make me want to run back to Chicago as fast as I can.

An Open Letter

2008-08-27T13:08:00.005-05:00

Dear Mr. Dodge Caliber with the Indiana plates,
The speed limit on Route 16 is 55 mph. That means that, while it is okay to go 50, you need to be in the right lane, not, as you believe, in the left lane. Also, when I moved over to the right lane to pass your slow ass and then you pulled into the right lane in front of me without signalling so that I had to pull back into the left lane quickly to avoid hitting your ugly, slow car, I was perfectly justified in flipping you off. You and your friend were certainly not justified in flipping me off, especially with an immature double flip off from each of you. You don't know how to drive, keep both hands on the wheel.
Also, further up the road, that was a turtle in the road. I did not slow down to mess with you (that time). So you speeding up to 75 to rush around me was unnecessary. Also, you killed a turtle, fuckhead.
Yes, after that you were a victim of my road rage, mostly because you were being an asshole. I sped up again to pass you. I also trapped you behind that truck on purpose, but what did you think taking a picture of me would accomplish? Anything that I was doing, you were guilty of doing as well. Plus, I never went over 10 miles over the speed limit. You can not say the same. Also, you cut off several drivers to catch me that last time.
And just so you know, I wrote down your license plate number too, turtle-murderer!

The Evil Disney Machine

2008-08-26T13:48:00.003-05:00

My daughter has entered the machine. Although she is only four and a half, she had been snagged and chewed up by the insipid Disney marketing machine. She only wants to watch Disney shows. While shopping for school clothes, she could not understand why I said "not a chance" to the Hannah Montana silver pants and gold shrug.
Until recently I was able to shield her from the evils of High School Musical, unfortunately I gave in to her pleas and let her watch both of those evil shows. Now the new pleas for HSM crap has begun. I swear there must some hidden brainwashing messages in their shows.
I want it to end. I need to throw my little wooden shoes into the Disney machine. The problem is I don't know how. How can you destroy something so important to your child just because you disagree with it on a philosophical level.
I legitimately banned Pokemon and other uber-violent shows from our home. A move that embittered my son, but it was violent so I felt justified. There is no violence in Disney shows, they're just horrifically annoying and very, very loud.
I guess you just have to step back and let it pass

Fun Monday

2008-08-25T00:00:00.001-05:00

MamaDrama is hosting and so I've decided to participate in my first Fun Monday on my new blog. So the assignment is:

What funny trivial fact do you remember that

you probably should have forgotten a long time ago?

I am only sort of playing by the rules. Mine is a not-very-trivial fact. I was given a bit of misinformation that led to one of my most humiliating moments as a teenager, which is saying a lot. This misinformation taught me that even teachers are not always right.

An important thing to know is that I went to a Catholic grade school. Actually I went to Catholic school from Preschool until I graduated from high school. Anyways, in fifth grade (around the age of 10 or 11) they separated the boys from the girls in order to tell us about the birds and the bees. The boys went off with a priest (stop snickering), and the girls went off with our female reading/religion teacher. . .

. . .I need to stop the story right here. Why were we being taught this by our religion teacher and not our, I don't know, science teacher is beyond me. But we were at least getting sex ed which is not true of every school. Considering it was a Cathloic school says a lot I think. . .

. . .Sorry, back on track. After more than a day of this weird class, our teacher opened the floor up to questions. We all got little slips of paper to write our anonymous questions and then the teacher pulled them out one by one to answer.

One of the first questions was, "What is circumcision?"

It's a fair enough question. My teacher responded (direct quote), "Circumcision is when a doctor cuts off the skin at the end of the penis. It doesn't matter if that is done to them, however, because the part that is removed falls off of the penis the first time a boy baby pees anyway."

I took this worth a grain of salt. It didn't really come up much in life so my brain filed it in the back and I moved on to more important things.

Zoom forward in time. Now I am a sophomore in high school (around 15 or 16). I am riding on a city bus with a bunch of my guy and girl friends. I don't know where we were going, but there were at least 15 of us sitting together on the back of a Chicago bus. For whatever reason, the guys we were with started talking and it turned out two or three of them were born at home and weren't circumcised (I knew because they were talking about it, not because I checked). If you aren't from America, you may not know that most people in my age bracket are circumcised as it was performed almost automatically back then.

As you've already guessed I decided to trot out my bit of info and said, 'Why does it matter? Doesn't it just fall off the first time you pee?"

I was laughed at for a long time, and "Doesn't it fall off the first time you pee," became a bit of a inside joke.

I am very aware what circumcision is now. Please don't try and tell me. I got it that very day thank you very much.

So I guess the real answer to the question is: I learned that the foreskin does not fall off the penis the first time a boy baby pees.

Check out my old Fun Mondays here.

Maybe I Should Be Living in 1964!

2008-08-23T21:34:00.000-05:00

My sister Meander found this website called yearbookyourself.com and posted some pretty funny pictures of her family. I gave it a try and was creeped out by how much it looked like me. I showed to my son and he thought it was our Grandma. Mr. Hobbitfeet didn't recognize me, but he was very sure it wasn't me, and didn't believe me after I told him it was.

Before:

After:

And here is how I spent my night:

1st Boy:

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Then Girl:

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Then Me:

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

But what I've really discovered is that I could be a man:

I like Boy and Girl best in 1954. What do you think?

My Own Little Guinea Pigs

2008-08-22T10:14:00.007-05:00

I was 20 and in college when Boy was born. My college, near where I live now, is primarily known as a teachers' college. One of the things that teachers have to do before they become teachers is observe children. I know this because when he was a baby, nearly everyone of my friends sat in my living room and watched my son do his baby things for an hour or two.
Then they wanted to put the things they had learned in class to practice. Once one of my friends put a dot of lipstick on his nose and held him up to a mirror to see how he reacted. I think it was supposed to show how babies can't recognize themselves if they have some lipstick on their noses. They look at themselves and think, "Oh hey that's me! Oh shit, no it's not! That kid has lipstick on his nose. Hi weirdo! Who the hell are you?"
Now that I don't actually know anyone at college anymore, I thought my days of letting people experiment on my kids were over. But I got a letter from Girl's preschool the other day letting me know that students from the college were coming to observe the children. Apparently the students not lucky enough to have a friend have a baby before Junior year have to get setup by the school to do their observations.
I didn't think that they would be putting lipstick on my daughter's nose. She's far enough in her development that she recognizes herself ~~even~~ especially when she wears her Hannah Montana wig so I doubt a little lipstick will fool her.

Then I got a letter from these students. Their little forms were all filled out. Girl got top marks in everything until the last part. She got low marks on the money section, and I got a little note at the end.

Girl has no concept of the value of money. She can not identify the values of any of the coins and will switch a dollar for two quarters. Girl shows no interest in money and would rather play with the other toys. You should work with your child with value amounts. We have sent home some play money to help you in this task.

And all I could think was, "Um, she's four. Is it important that my daughter isn't Alex P. Keaton?" I very clearly remember learning about money in higher grades. More importantly why are the teachers of these future teachers not telling them that their letters to parents shouldn't be so negative. That they should compliment the child, remarking on their successes before easing into the areas that need work. In the end I guess it doesn't matter. These are just notes from students not from professionals, but it's never fun to get a note from school telling you your kid is a moron which is essentially what the note said.

In Which I Get Some Reading Done

2008-08-21T20:58:00.001-05:00

Boy and Girl love the library. In my town it used to be tiny. A little building built long ago. Maybe Lincoln and Douglas debated there (they didn't but they did everywhere else in my town apparently). A couple years back the town put a library expansion and I heartily voted yes even though it involved tearing down a bunch of rental properties and (I found out later) a beautiful old tree.
I miss that tree. I don't understand why they didn't just move it. They didn't cut it down. They pulled it out by it's roots and THEN crunched it up with a bulldozer (or something I don't know trucks). The point being that in addition to buying a bunch of new books, they built a huge addition on to the library. This makes me happy. Even if the loss of the trees breaks my heart.

"Grr. . .I will eat you!"
(this isn't the biggest, most beautiful of the trees).

At any rate, Boy and Girl are at the age where I can drop them off in the kids' area and run upstairs to grab some books for myself. I rarely remember to look at reviews of books, or to grab the list of books I want to read. My style of picking books mostly involves me walking through the fiction section and grabbing a few books that jump out at me. (Yes, I am judging books by their cover, you got a problem with that?) I grabbed four, but have only gotten through two. Ah, such is the life of a mom. Neither of the two I read are more than fluff, but fluff can be fun.

The first was You Suck: A Love Story by Christopher Moore. I picked this one because of the name. It's about new vampires trying to survive without really being killers. I thought it was funny and enjoyed the other characters in the book immensely.

The second was Outside Valentine by Liza Ward. I admit I picked it up just because like me, her name was Liza. The first time I sat down to read it, I couldn't follow it well, but then I was trying to sneak it in as we were watching the Olympics. I almost gave up on it, but gave it one last shot when my mom had the kids and enjoyed it. It's about the repercussions of a murder spree that happened long ago. I liked that we didn't see the whole story from one person's perspective.

Oh, That's Just The Past Coming To Bite My Ass!

2008-08-20T13:51:00.004-05:00

I have to admit that Facebook freaks me out a bit. There you are, playing pointless online games with you friends and your sister, when all of a sudden someone you haven't known since high school sends you a friend request. I admit to doing this to other people to, but it feels weird when others do it to me because of my incredibly low self-esteem.
I transferred away from my first high school after sophomore year. My first high school was big and prestigious (and coed). My second high school was small, isolated, all-girl, and run by wacky nuns that would tell you things like, "Young ladies do not get angry."
I had a lot of fun at my first high school, but felt all muddled-up there. My best friend (who also left after sophomore year) was a bit fucked up. That fucked-upness often splattered on to me and made me even more fucked up than I already was. I don't want to bore the world with things that happened longer ago than should be relevant, but I felt I needed something new. So I transferred to the school that my bestest friend who I had known since preschool was at. Seriously, that's why I picked it. I don't think my mom was thrilled. My dad thought nothing could be better than sending me to what was the 90's equivalent to a convent school.
I had other friends at that first school, but honestly, I felt like I didn't make that much of an impression. So I let it all drift away.
I had a lot of fun at my new school. I met great friends who I still hold very close to my heart. I learned how to be me. It is a good lesson to learn when you're young. My mother would often ask if I was sorry I left the first school, but, even though it wasn't the educational mecca that my first school was, I was glad I went through with it.
Now that these people keep contacting me on Facebook, I feel like a whole bunch of stuff is being dredged up that I thought I had grown past. Now I see that it was all just hiding there. I genuinely want to talk to these people. They were, at one time, my whole world. I think I just enjoyed never having to tell anyone why I left. I guess that sometimes you just have to deal with the past.

My Hour With The Helicopters

2008-08-19T21:21:00.003-05:00

Girl takes lessons at a fancy pants gymnastics and dance school. I hate what the place is, however, since it exists no place else nearby has tumbling classes. Girl loves herself some tumbling so we've been going there for the last couple years.
Today was the first day of the new session, and there were tons of new students. Maybe because of the Olympics, or maybe it's just because it's the beginning of the season, I don't know; but I do know that the moms were highly irritating.
At least four of them ignored the "no parents in the gym" rule and repeatedly interrupted classes to talk to the instructors. Others talked loudly on the phone about things better left private:
"So I told Jake that he gave me the crabs, blah, blah, blah, blah!" (They didn't really say that, but they might as well have.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised; that place has always attracted a certain type of mom. More than once I heard someone talking about all the pageants their daughters were in. I guess, I just was a little taken aback at the level of helicopter parenting that was going on today.

Back To School

2008-08-18T11:58:00.000-05:00

Girl finally went back to school today. She was so excited yesterday she could barely stand it. She also decided she was big enough (now that she's in four year old preschool) to make her own lunch, take her own bath, pick out her own clothes, etc. She did, however, accept help with a lot of it.

I had to veto a lot of very interesting outfits, until I finally asked her what was the most important part of her outfit, and we'd build around it. In the end, we stuck with the styles she picked out, but with more matching colors.

She was very excited about wearing a scooter (a skirt with attached shorts underneath), a pair of knee socks (this is a matchy as any of her knee socks get), and her butterfly t-shirt. She originally picked her bright yellow scooter, and maroon and black striped knee socks. I felt this was a good compromise.

Also, if you look at her hair, you may see what is left of the curls she so desperately wanted today. After her bath last night I walked in her room to find her sticking the curlers that her aunt, Meander gave her, which were more stick in your hair and blow dry, than sleep in curlers. So I pulled out my sleeping curlers and put them in her hair. Unfortunately her hair is too damn short for curlers and all but one fell out during the night. So this morning I sprayed out her kinks and put in a couple braids with her rainbow-sparkly barrettes. Thus her awesome first day of school outfit was completed to her satisfaction. I guarantee that when Mr. Hobbitfeet picks her up at 3 p.m., her shirt will be stained, the socks will be rolled down to her ankles, and the barrettes will be lost forever (unless her new teacher is as thoughtful as her old one and puts them in her book bag). I am not sure why she loves knee socks so much because she always rolls them down until she looks like Olive Oyl.

And just so you don't think that I only love Girl, here is a picture of Boy on his first day (last Thursday).

Lessons Mom

2008-08-16T22:31:00.000-05:00

Girl has become obsessed with "lessons."
While these do not need to be professionally taught she wants lessons in EVERYTHING. Obviously Mr. H. can't be counted on to teach her sports as he seriously injures himself playing mini-golf.
So I've been working on imparting every bit of wisdom on any activity that I can think of to my four-year-old.
Friday we worked on rollerskating, skateboarding, basketball, and tennis.
I can rollerskate, although I haven't done it since I was in eighth grade. Mostly my knowledge of skating was involved in skating around Scottsdale Roller Rink for our monthly, grade-school, Roller Skating Parties.
Since there were no large carpeted mushrooms to sit on Girl and I sat on the bleachers outside of the outdoor roller hockey rink. I strapped on her Barbie "My First Skates" and the Skechers Four-wheelers that I bought several years ago during the two-week period where boy wanted to learn skating.
I pulled Girl to the rink, with her sobbing all the way, "I'm scared Mommy!" She was wearing knee pads and a helmet and her skates only rolled one way. Worms on the sidewalk were in more danger than she was. But we tried and she whined all the time because she didn't have skates like mine. She completely ignored my teachings and didn't want to hear that she could have real skates when she was good on hers. 10 minutes after begining we were done with roller skating. We hadn't even made it an eighth of the way around. Next up skateboarding.
Honestly, skateboarding was our biggest success of the day. The summer before both Freshman and Sophmore year of high school, my cousin and I spent the summer as skater boy groupies. Hell we even got arrested for them (remind me to tell you that story again later). Sadly though I haven't picked up much from watching those boys slide over parking blocks and attempt to flip their boards under them. I know how to get it to go, turn, and the proper way to pick up your board (by stepping on one end hard enough to knock the other into the air and catch it). This is the extent of my skater knowledge, but Girl really seems to be picking it up. I figure once she gets those down she can pick the rest of her need-to-know information the same way those boys did, by practicing endlessly in the parking lots of banks and White Hens. We worked on this for nearly an hour. She said it was boring, but she didn't give up. She even managed to skate across the hocky rink (the small way across) but there may have been a small slope and she may have gotten a couple pushes t help out her little foot pushes. At any rate she didn't fall at all and even managed a small turn. Lessons learned.
Next up basketball. Basketball is one of the few ball sports I know how to play, and though I might not be very good, I know the fundementals enogh to get her well on the way. I showed her how to dribble and even how to switch hands, but we got in trouble when I tried to get her to look at me instead of the ball. But we only made it through fifteen minutes and a lot of that was on the slide so there wasn't much learning involved.
Finally tennis. Tennis is one of Boy's sports, which may be why Girl likes it. I have no knowledge except for what I picked up my last semester of P.E. my Junior year of high school, but we swatted the ball a little and that was good enough for Girl.

So Girl had enough "lessons" to be happy. I was freaking tired. Honestly sometimes Mothering should and Olympic sport.

A Rant on Sexism

2008-08-13T13:33:00.005-05:00

I lost my shit today at the park, and very nearly yelled at a little boy who was maybe eight at the most. Girl and I were swinging on the swings. Boy was sitting at the edge of the park watching traffic (his favorite thing to do). Girl got off her swing and walked a few feet away to the merry-go-round (her favorite thing to do at the park). Three little boys were already on it and one of the boys yelled out, "Hey! You can't come on this. No Girls allowed!" Girls face crumpled and tears started flowing down her face.
Normally, I tend to leave kids alone to their own arguments. But boy, howdy! I wasn't going to leave this one alone. I jumped off my swing and got to the merry-go-round in three steps.
"Listen, you little brat!" I wasn't screaming, but it was taking all I had to prevent it. I grabbed the merry-go-round and stopped the spinning, "You don't have the right to tell anyone they can't ride something!!"
Girl got on and I spun all of them until she was dizzy and wanted to get off.
As we walked away, I held her hand. With lips tight and eyes a little teary (but hidden behind my sunglasses), I told her, "Never, never let anyone tell you you can't do something because you are a girl. You fully have my permission to tell them to shut up, and then do what they just told you not to do. Girls are every bit as good as boys. Don't ever, ever forget it!"
Girl looked up at me and said, "I won't forget, Mommy. Next time those boys don't let me on, I'll say shut up."
I don't know, maybe I was being a little drastic, but I look around my town all the time and see blatant sexism that should have gone out of style decades ago, and think about the crap I had to grow up with and get so fucking mad. This might have been a tiny thing, but it's the tiny stuff that chips away at our daughters self image until they lose their shit at 12 and start kowtowing to boys and social pressure and crap like that.
And here I am watching the start of it with my four-and-a-half year-old. So it comes down to am I going to let it pass and let those little punks get away with it because they aren't my kids, or am I going to be angry at the park and have my daughter see me stand up for her and teach her that that stuff is bull-shit and she doesn't need to put up with it. I chose the latter, and I hope all moms with little girls do the same. In much the same way that I stand up for little boys whose parents don't let them play with dolls.

My Little Daredevil

2008-08-12T17:26:00.003-05:00

Girl discovered the diving board today. All that I was allowed to do was sit at the side of the dive pool and watch as she ran and jumped off the board over, and over, and over again. She hasn't worked out any different jumps yet. All that she can manage is running as fast as she can and jumping, but she certainly swims back to the ladder better than most of the other kids there.

In Which I Am Willing to Trade My Kids and Pets For One Night of 8 Hour Sleep

2008-08-12T08:23:00.004-05:00

I have this goal that I am going to get up at 6 a.m. and make my husband and kids a nice healthy breakfast in the morning. A breakfast that isn't a bagel or a bowl of cereal, which is all the kids get when Mr. Hobbitfeet makes breakfast. Well, sometimes he makes instant oatmeal. I really would love to make them scrambled egg whites.
So every night I go to bed thinking, "Tomorrow, I'll do it." Then the night hits me. No matter what time I physically go to bed, I cannot fall asleep until at least 12:30 a.m. (if I'm lucky). I just lie there thinking, completely unable to turn my brain off no matter what I do.
Mr. H. can lay down no matter what time of day or night and instantly be in a deep sleep, and once he's there nothing, NOTHING can wake him up (short of a high pitched scream directly in his ear or possibly a blow job, but who wants to go there?). I hate him.
The slightest thing wakes me up, a loud owl, a weird breeze. Sometimes, absolutely nothing will wake me up. I'll be asleep having nice dreams, and BAM! I am wide awake for no discernible reason. Every now and again (though much less if I take a sleep aid) I'll wake myself up as I am running screaming down the hall turning on every light in the house. Why do I do that? I never have any knowledge.
Then there are nights like last night. The dog, the cat, and Girl all decided that they needed to sleep with us. Despite being a queen-sized bed, there is no room for that shit. Of course, since Mr. H's feet go all the way to the bottom of the bed, they are all on my side. At first it was okay. Everyone took up some space, but we were all feeling cozy, but at 3 a.m. the cat and the dog remembered they hate each other and start brawling and I am trapped between Girl and Mr. H.
So everyone is kicked out. Girl is pt back in her own bed, which makes her cry for hours and the cat and dog are thrown out.
Of course, this isn't the end of it. I have to leave the door open in case one of my kids needs me, and the cat and t he dog aren't fooled for a second by my closing it most of the way, but leaving it open a crack. They keep pawing the door so it opens and then staring at me from the doorway before resuming their brawl.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. Even though it is a chilly night, I turn on my two fans for the white noise and dig myself deep into the covers. 4 a.m. and I am back asleep. Then 7:30 a.m. rolls around and I am awakened by Girl, once again in my bed, wanting me to tell her how many days it is until she can sleep over at my mom's farm, how many days until school starts, how to spell this and that, until I am fully awake with a pounding, not-enough-sleep-for-the fifth-night-in-a-row headache and every muscle sore from last night's battle with kids to big to carry and stupid pets.
"Go watch t.v. with your brother," I mumble, very much aware of the shitty parenting I am doing.
Five more minutes and I am wide awake because the dog is barking his "someone's here bark" which is much, much louder than his "there's a deer in our driveway" bark or his "there's a dog being walked and I can see it" bark. So I get up to make sure my kids aren't going to allow a religious nut into the house. But it is just Blondie, the kid whose is Boy's age and gets babysat by his Grandma who lives across the street. Luckily, Boy sends him away. Knowing I won't let him out until breakfast has been eaten and Mama is awake. Good ole Boy. He sure takes care of his Mom!
Maybe when I sell the pets and Girl (to the gypsies as my dad always said), I'll keep him around.

Mr. Pooples and The Kids Who Won't Go

2008-08-08T16:29:00.003-05:00

Did you ever have one of those days when, no matter how hard you work, you just can't get the house clean because your children are following right behind you pulling everything out again? Have you had a day that, no matter how many obstacles you've put up to prevent it, the damn dog keeps getting into the litter box and eating cat poo, and the kids keep running screeching away from him calling him Mr. Pooples, and the dog looks sad because everyone is afraid of his poop-mouth? Have you had a day when you wished your kids would run away already? Have you had a day where you call your husband at work to explain that the whole marriage/kid thing was nice for awhile but you have to move to some desert island somewhere where very muscular men with names like Ramon can rub lotion all over you while you enjoy the blissful silence?

Stop lying you know you have. I have too. It was today as a matter of fact, and while I am still here it's only because Mr. Hobbitfeet left work an hour early and rushed home so I wouldn't walk out the door to start my new life as the sex mistress of Ramon and his island buddies.

But then again, after an hour of putting up with it, he went outside mumbling about needing to cut the grass, so my island life is still not all that improbable.

Superpowers, Un-broken Ankles, & A Girl Who Learned to Fly

2008-08-07T20:25:00.005-05:00

This afternoon at lunchtime I was watching a Scrubs rerun and my daughter came in to tell me something. She heard J.D. do that voice over thing and started freaking out! "Mom! Mom! I just read that guys mind! Mom! Mom! Did you hear what he was thinking!?" Of course I said, "no," because, frankly, I am a terrible mother. Then she got REALLY EXCITED and said "I must have super powers!" Then Boy walked in and ruined it all by telling her what was going on. Is it wrong that I was pissed at him?

Thankfully, Mr. Hobbitfeet has not broken his ankle though looking at it is pretty painful. He, as you may have noticed by his pseudonym, has weird feet to begin with. For the most part, he is not a hairy guy. He couldn't grow a beard, moustache or even high-school-boy fuzz, but comparatively his feet are really hairy, and large. Now the heel of his right foot makes it look as though he's wearing bruise colored sandals and his ankle is about the size of his calf.
The doctor recommends that he get an MRI if the swelling doesn't go down, but she also said to stay off of it. Since he's not doing the one, I doubt he'll do the other. Short of tying him to a chair with his foot elevated, I don't know how to make him sit down already.

Girl learned how to run and jump into the pool today. She did it fifty billion times. Afterward she told me she did it so much because it felt like flying. I love that she is so dedicated to getting a super power.

Weird Dreams That Make Me Feel Crazy

2008-08-04T23:19:00.003-05:00

We've had house guests since Friday, and I'm tired. Boy came home sick from the "Other" Grandma's, and I'm tired. Mr. Hobbitfeet may have broken his ankle playing mini-golf, and (you guessed it), I am tired.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I did say mini-golf.

So while our house guests took Girl to the pool and Boy and Mr. H. slept, I tried to take a nap. Things were going well until I heard talking that had nothing to do with my dream. So, I woke up thinking I was needed. No one was there; Boy and Mr. H. were still sleeping.

I fell back asleep, and it happened again, over and over until I decided I was hearing a radio and walked around turning off fans and trying to hear the voices while awake. No luck.

So now I just feel insane, and dumb because I convinced myself that the voices were not in my dream.

An American Girl Dream

2008-08-03T09:59:00.000-05:00

I used to work in Chicago Visitor Information in a prime location on North Michigan Avenue. We were only steps away from what was, at the time, the only American Girl Doll Store. It was, coincidentally, where I met Mr. Hobbitfeet. We both worked there, but that isn't what this is about.

Often there would be families who had come to Chicago only to shop at the American Girl Doll store. These people were easy to spot. The daughter would be cradling an AG bag most likely filled with HUNDREDS of dollars worth of accessories and clothes, the father (if one was present) was looking dazed, and the mother was wearing the EXACT same dress as both her daughter and the AG doll.

I need you to understand how frightening I thought this was. I find matching outfits to be disturbing any day of the week, but when the outfits are mother-daughter-doll it is too eerie to express in real words. Even worse were the Mother-Daughter-Daughter-Doll-Doll outfits. Now, not only is the mother dressed like both of her daughters but there are TWO dolls dressed alike. It is a sea of pink, floral, collared dresses.

I've seen too many scary movies where dolls come to life and kill people to be comfortable with this.

Then multiply this by two-three times a week (more in the summer) and then by a year. Also throw in the yuppie, "I'm better than you" attitude, and toss in a bit of fevered anticipation for a vacation completely devoted to high-end shopping. What I am trying to say is these people scared me because they were devoted to a frenzied feeling that I could never hope, or care, to sympathize with.

I said to myself, "As God as my witness, I will never allow my children to own an American Girl doll!"

And then, if you triple that, you'd know Mr. Hobbitfeet's feelings on the subject.

Now move forward in time seven years.

Girl got her hands on an American Girl catalog, and she can not stop talking about it. All she wants out of life is 17 inches of China-made plastic with ice skates and red hair. Her goal in life is the "Girl of the Year," Mia and the package that comes with three or four outfits all for the low, low price of $168.

And "as God as my witness," I am going to get it for her. We've told her there will be no birthday party. We have told her there will be no other presents. She doesn't care (as long as maybe she gets some balloons too).

Of course she still has threeish months until her birthday, and Mr. H is hoping (against all hope) that she'll forget her obsession and move on. Of course he isn't home all day to see her pouring through well-worn catalog, exclaiming at all the cool accessories that you can get for your doll, kissing the picture of Mia and telling Boy over and over again that she is getting it for her birthday with some balloons, but no party or other presents.

There is NO WAY she is letting herself forget.

There Goes that Wacky History Repeating Itself

2008-08-02T01:58:00.002-05:00

When I was in fifth grade, I did a cartwheel in the house and ended up kicking a shutter. I told my mom about it and she was convinced I just jammed my toe. A day or two later, when I still couldn't really walk on it, she took me to the hospital where we found out that I broke my secondary metatarsal (which is in the foot below the toes).
Girl has just learned to do cartwheels (sort of) I keep warning her not to do cartwheels in the house and tell her about breaking my foot. This morning while I was cleaning and getting ready for our guests, Girl did a cartwheel and ended up kicking the bottom of the couch. Now she's limping around not putting any weight on it. She even woke up earlier and cried until I wrapped it in an Ace bandage.
I told her if it wasn't better by Monday, we'll go see the doctor.

The only thing that keeps running through my head is a slightly modified line from the Brady Bunch, "Mom always said, 'Don't do cartwheels in the house!'"

A Post About My Pets (Sorry)!

2008-07-30T22:55:00.002-05:00

My daughter has never been a good sleeper. Her first night, a nurse came in at 3 a.m. and told me I had to wake her up and feed her, and she hasn't slept through the night since.
We recently got a kitten, and though my husband says I'm nuts, I think my dog is really jealous. At any rate I decided we shouldn't put the baby gate up at night any more. The dog is long past his chewing phase and I didn't think it's fair that the cat had free reign in the house and the dog didn't.
That being said, I won't let him sleep in my bed. So he's taken to sleeping with Girl, and guess what? When he sleeps with her, she sleeps through the night.

Yay!

Had I known about this, Mr. Giles would have been sleeping with Girl since we got him.

Even so, tonight he tried to sleep in my room. I picked him up and stuck him in my daughter's bed. If I have my way, he'll sleep there forever. Once you remember how nice it is not have to wake up three times a night and put your four-year-old back in bed, you can't go back.

Chicago

2008-07-30T17:59:00.000-05:00

We had a nice weekend in Chicago before Boy went off to hang out with his other family.

Hey, Guy! I'm Revoking Your Baby License!

2008-07-29T21:22:00.001-05:00

The problems that I mentioned in my last post are progressing much better, though I definitely will head to the doctor once the kids are back in school.
But what I really want to talk about is bad parents. I really try not to judge other parents because I hate when I feel judged. That being said, I can't stop doing it. This is especially true when I see such idiocy as I saw earlier today.
Girl and I were headed home from tumbling class which is in the next town over and we were just slowing down to make a right turn. Now this is the first stoplight in town, which is radar controlled and very few people use the cross street. So although most people are no longer going 65 mph, they are going well above the 40 mph speed limit.
Anyway, as I am making this turn I see a 20-something year-old man crossing the main street (against the light) steering a BMX-type bike with one hand while balancing a toddler (maybe 1-2 years-old) on his hip. I seriously wanted to jump out of the car and take that baby away from him. This is the kind of thing that makes me want there to be tests and things for people to take before they're allowed to have kids.

Feeling Broken

2008-07-28T23:58:00.002-05:00

For the past I-don't-know-how-many years (I'd say 8 at least), I have been recording my periods on cyclespage.com. It's very handy. It figures out your cycle and emails you a couple days before you ovulate or before your period is due. It's really helpful for a girl who is bad at math.
When I got pregnant with Girl, the helpful calendar told me three days before I missed my period that I had seriously misjudged when it was okay not to care that we had run out of condoms (the site hasn't always emailed you when you were going to ovulate).
I introduced the site to a very innocent friend of mine when she wasn't having luck getting pregnant. Of course, due to her lack of education she never knew you could figure that stuff out. At any rate, the site helped her get pregnant with in a month. What I am saying is that it's effective.
So what's all this leading up to? I got my email that my period was expected in two days on Mr. Hobbitfeet's birthday. July 16th if you all want to send him presents next year. Anyway, I waited, restocked my supplies, and waited. Nothing!!
Now this is odd and frustrating because back when Girl was still not sleeping through the night (at 3), we decided we were very much done and Mr. Hobbitfeet got fixed (or broken as he likes to say). I later changed my mind, but that is another story for another day. The bottom line is these things should not happen.
But, I've heard enough stories about vasectomies gone awry to know I should have had it by now. So off I go to the store and pick me up some pregnancy test. I take one right away. Negative. I wait till the next morning (like your supposed too), negative. I wait a week, and start spotting, then stop. I wait till Sunday night, buy two more tests. I take one right away, negative. I wait till the morning, negative.
Mr. Hobbitfeet is not being very supportive. Maybe he doesn't understand that with a couple nine-month exceptions, I have had a little friend that has shown up very regularly on a monthly basis since I was two weeks away from my 12th birthday. I count on that friend. I love her and like her to come by (though honestly if she wanted to take another nine-month break I wouldn't say no).
But to have her go away with no explanation is freaking me out. I know that our friendship has a time limit, but I'm only 31. We have certainly not reached that limit yet! So Mr. Hobbitfeet says, "Whatever, go to a damn doctor." Yeah well that's easy for him to say. Our kids are on summer vacation. We only have aquaintances here. No babysitter options, so I can't fathom how I'll be able to do that before Girl is back in school, which I believe is still three plus weeks away.
My sister tells me via phone that I should by pennyroyal tea. But I opt instead to take two low-dose asprins figuring asprin is a blood thinner, it should get things moving, and I think it may have actually started working. At least I am spotting again. We'll see if that develops any more.
I am not saying that I will skip the doctor visits, but I feel like if I actually have my period it will be a lot easier to wait till the kids are in school than if I didn't.

The "Other" Grandma

2008-07-28T12:00:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again. A few times a year Boy's biological father's mother takes Boy for a week of unabashed spoiling. I call her Boy's "Other" Grandma.
I need to say that I hate this. I hate this A LOT. I don't necessarily have a problem with the "Other" Grandma, I just object to the situation in general.
Basically (and as quickly as possible) Fuck-Wad (or FW as he'll be known from here on out) is Boy's biological father. He completely dropped out of Boy's life when Boy was around two. I haven't laid eyes on him in nearly ten years. He hasn't given us money in eight. The money that he gave us eight years ago was money he got by illegally claiming Boy on his taxes and came know where near the amount he owed us (or that he got from his taxes). But last August I let that all go because the courts ruled that FW had legally abandoned Boy and Mr. Hobbitfeet (my husband) was able to adopt him.
However, I have had this long standing agreement with FW's family that I would always let them have a relationship with Boy no matter what happened with FW. And I have honored it. Even though "Other" Grandma has talked at great length about what a wonderful dad FW is to his other son (though that is not quite what I hear from our mutual friends). Sometimes she'll talk at length about how they found FW's real dad but he's not sure if he wants to meet him because of his daddy issues, and they say this with no hint of irony.
I swallow my pride and move on because, quite frankly, Boy loves these people. They love him too, and frankly I don't see the harm in it. At least he gets to see what a creep FW is with his own two eyes, but from the safety spot of not actually having to spend any unsupervised time with him. That makes it better I think.
But still they come and take Boy away from me for week long stretches and I worry and worry, because he is (and always will be) my little guy (even if he NEVER let's me say that any more).

Welcome and What's Up!

2008-07-28T00:02:00.003-05:00

Hi! You may know me, I used to be a different blogger, posting at a different site, but I had a problem. My mom found out about my blog, and linked to me on her's and soon my mom, my step-dad, and various others of that ilk started visiting me on a regular basis, and I felt stifled.
Soon I started editing every thought in my head until I just about went insane. You can't write a thing if you know your mom's third cousin will run up to you at the next family reunion and demand to know why you get annoyed at all the uber-Christians in your town. It's hard to be honest when you fear that your Grandma will start quoting your jokes about your sex life, or that your mom will host a "crazy-girl" intervention the next time you say what you feel somewhere.
Also, I would like to say that my son's biological father is a fuck-wad without worrying about my son being ignored by his Grandma because she thinks I am a bitch.
The whole point is for me to be me. Let's be honest, no one cares what I do with my day to day life. I have spent the last few months writing something only to delete it later. I want that to end.

A Post Without Direction

2008-07-24T23:25:00.000-05:00

I recently switched from yahoo to gmail, and I gotta tell you, I really love it. I've had a Yahoo account since 2000 and I used to be very satisfied with it and then slowly more and more spam kept slipping through and more and more of the mail I actually wanted was going into the spam folder. But so far all my gmail has gotten are warm fuzzies from my friends and family. I also like how it stacks up all the replies into one conversation so you can keep track of everything that was said without even leaving the current email. Small things make me happy.

And speaking of small things, I want to talk about my weirdo son. If you've met Boy you'd know that in preschool he could name every car on the street. Then he got sick of cars and started liking animals. It was because of him that I discovered one of my favorite creatures the Axolotl, which often looks like a happy little clown (and not an evil, scary clown, but one you would really like to know). Had it not been for Boy, I would have utterly missed the existence of these wonderful creatures and would have been a less happy person. My point though is that, despite his love for looking at the animals in the zoo, Boy was really pretty afraid of animals.

Then we got Mr. Giles and Boy suddenly believed that dogs were okay really, but he still believed that cats were the spawn of Satan and he didn't want anything to do with him. For the most part I really get that. He spent most of his life horribly allergic to cats. When Mr. Hobbitfeet and I got engaged, and I finally allowed them to spend time together, Boy stepped into Mr. Hobbitfeet's condo with its eleven-year-old, elephant-sized cat and immediately turned into a red, puffy, snot ball. So when Mr. Hobbitfeet moved in with us, Gracie had to go.
But after two and a half years of allergy shots, I thought he'd be okay giving it a go. I was dealing with some hardcore baby fever that wasn't likely to be sated, and damn it I wanted a kitten. So we got one. When I told Boy we were getting a kitten, he freaked out. He was mad. He absolutely did not want it.
Guess how Boy spends his day now. Following that cat around, picking it up whenever he can. He puts it on his head and says, "Do you like my hat?" He puts it on his face and says, "Do you like my moustache?" He videotapes it sleeping. He is nuts about our little Willow, and he hasn't had a single problem with his allergies.

Cuz I Like To Fight! Fight!

2008-07-24T18:57:00.000-05:00

Girl successfully tested for her Camo belt in Tae Kwon Do tonight (earlier than the rest of the class because we're going to be at her Grandma's birthday party during the regular testing).
She did a very good job.

For one of the things she had to do, her instructor told her to have a mean face. I couldn't capture it at the time because they face the instructor not the parents; however, I had her do it again for me afterward.
Does it remind you of anyone?

Status Update

2008-07-22T23:45:00.001-05:00

Honestly I don't know what to say. I keep starting posts and not finishing them. Spending endless days with my kids is great. I really enjoy watching the physical progress they've made. I guess I've never realized how little actually happens at daycare. Now that they have the time to really play, they're suddenly very athletic.
I rode my bike with Boy the other day and really had to work to keep up. It's unfathomable to think that in April he couldn't ride more than 20 feet.
Girl, who wouldn't go under water two weeks ago, is now diving into the pool. She doesn't know she's diving though which is pretty hilarious because you'll ask her to dive and she will say she's afraid but then she'll stand on the top step of the pool arms wide and let herself fall face first into the water.
She's also super tan. More tan than I think anyone in my family ever gets. I'd say she doesn't get it from Mr. Hobbitfeet either because he's paler than a ghost; however, he doesn't log the outside hours that we do, so it is possible. Trust me, I am a big spaz about sunscreen, especially since being outside started giving me hives. We all put on 50 + spf sun screen and continue to put it on all day long but she still has that deep tan.
Believe it or not we only have about three weeks left in our summer vacation. We register Boy for school Friday morning.

Because I Am Me

2008-07-16T21:23:00.000-05:00

Many time I have professed my love for all things Joss Whedon and so I didn't want to slack off in my duties. Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog is fantastic.
There is nothing I like more than a good musical, unless it is a superhero musical written by Joss Whedon and starring Nathan Fillion AND Neil Patrick Harris. It was like someone came in and said, "How can we make Woodlandmama really, really happy?"

Well, thanks Joss you did it!

Also, if you think my love of Joss and Nathan Fillion is making me biased, Mr. Hobbitfeet and Boy really love it too. So check it out!

The Many Random Things That Make Up My Day

2008-07-15T23:31:00.000-05:00

Boy and I went to the library yesterday and got some books. Today, while waiting the requisite half hour in the doctor's office after his allergy shots, (and because we were once again Girl-less) Boy and I were each reading our books. We both went into such deep book comas that neither one of us heard his name called (several times) and the nurse had to come tap us on the heads. What is it that they say about apples and trees?

Boy has decided that he likes Suzanne Vega (of Tom's Diner fame). So we were listening to the song Luka, and I found myself babbling about what it was about and I guess I don't really know. Is it child abuse? Is it about some one getting beat up by their boyfriend? Why was I talking about this with and 11 year-old?

My cat likes to ride around on our shoulders like a parrot, which makes my husband happy because he likes to pretend he's a pirate, a weird pirate with a kitten instead of parrot, but then again Mr. Hobbitfeet can't swim so he would never make a good pirate.

Sometimes (like right now) when I am laying on the couch the cat curls up on my shoulder. Only, since I am laying down, she's more on my chest than my shoulder so she looks like a furry flower accessory that Sarah Jessica Parker would wear in Sex and the City. So which is weirder, pretending you are a cat pirate or that you're starting a new trend of wearing giant cat flowers on your chest.

I should probably go to bed.

A Day Without Girl

2008-07-14T23:38:00.000-05:00

This summer Girl was supposed to spend two and a half hours everyday at "Kiddie Kamp" which was basically just playing in the park with a teenager instead of Mommy. Not enough kids signed up, however, and it was canceled.
So it's pretty much been the Mommy and Boy show for Girl, where we have to entertain her all day, every day, which usually just ends with us spending four hours at the pool because that's the only way to keep her 95% happy. Neither Boy nor I have been too happy about it.
To remedy this, four days a week for the next two weeks Girl is spending her day at gymnastics camp. Even better than that, Mr. Hobbitfeet is picking her up.
Today was our first Girl-free day. We celebrated by watching Independence Day and Contact on cable and then a couple hours in the library.
It was nice to have a fight free day, and I know that Boy appreciated the Mommy time.
I didn't do too much today because I knew we had to get to a meet at five.
Tomorrow the cleaning starts.

What Are We Teaching Her?

2008-07-12T20:54:00.000-05:00

My four-year-old daughter is in love with my eleven-year-old son's best friend. In her words, she "love, love, loves him."

He's not to impressed with her though. She can't understand why she isn't invited over every time Boy is. Unfortunately (or possibly fortunately) he doesn't do all the same activities that Boy does.

There is, however, a boy who is in Taekwondo with the kids and is on Boy's swim team. So today she told me that she would "act like she was (name redacted)'s one true love, just until she was around (Boy's BFF) again."

She did too. She flirted, teased and played with him for the duration of the invitational (which lasted from 8 a.m. until we left early at 4 p.m.). He was great though, considering he's a thirteen year-old boy. He played, teased and flirted right back with her.

So I asked her if she liked him more than (Boy's BFF), and she said, "Oh, no! I just pretended to love him so he would play with me."

WTF!!

A Post That Goes South Pretty Quick

2008-07-11T08:42:00.000-05:00

I know that I am not posting like I used to post. Lately I've had longer and longer stretches where I've left the same damn thing up for a long time.
The truth is I have been writing posts, getting called away halfway through and I come back only to decide to not write that post because it's to whiny, boring, or bitchy. I've been spending too much time with my family and seeing very few people, I've found, has made me whiny, bitchy, and boring.

I do have a bajillion pictures. Some are from the 4th of July Parade that my kids walked in. Well, Boy walked the whole way, Girl got tired halfway through and ended up in the wagon that was meant to hold the extra candy with the two other Tiny Tigers whose parents were dumb enough to allow an under six to walk in the parade. A little boy, who I believe is under eight (because he was a Tiny Tiger not that long ago), pulled them despite many people (including the adult students) offering to pull the wagon for him.

I am glad that I took the wagon. The teacher had nothing but several one gallon buckets full of candy to toss. I suppose he though the kids would carry them, but I don't think they could have. The parade was two miles long, and they were the only ones that were going to walk it.

Quite frankly, I don't think the teacher thinks too much. He keeps trying to get us to fund raise for his for-profit school, and volunteer to help him build his new location, but none of these things will impact our children's education, they'll just help his business. I think that's fundamentally wrong (see there I go being bitchy).

So here they are at the parade.

Boy is still doing very well at swimming. His last meet (where the other team were uber-competative and kind of mean) He got three second place ribbons for the medley relay, the 50 breast stroke, and the freestyle relay, a fourth place for his 50 free, and a fifth place for his Individual medley. This Saturday we are going to an invitational which I imagine will take forever.

See I try to be nice, but I can't maintain it for very long. Maybe it's because the kids (who have always been in daycare or camp) are not used to spending so much time together and have done nothing but snipe at each other all summer long. I am looking forward to a break as Girl has eight days of tumbling day camp coming up and Boy will be spending time with his other Grandmother. Also school starts up again in one month and three days (not like I am counting or anything). Maybe I'll drum up a bit of goodwill by then.

I'm That Mom

2008-07-06T00:09:00.001-05:00

I swam in high school. Swimming is hard, mostly because nobody gives a shit. Nobody came to just watch meets like they do for baseball or football.
So now that Boy is swimming, we go to the meets and the parents cheer while their kid is swimming until 1st, 2nd, or 3rd place is decided then they stop. Than that little kid who is trying so hard, but is a whole pool length behind everyone else is alone in the pool just trying to finish.
I hate it. Not even his or her parents are cheering like they're afraid to acknowledge that their kid lost the race.

So there I am, standing at the starting blocks because I let myself be talked into volunteering, and I cheer. I cheer loud because it's hard to hear when you're swimming. I hear myself, shouting and cheering and I hate it because not even the coach is cheering but I can't stand the thought that that kid is swimming in silence.

So I've become that mom and I'm sure I am mortifying my 11 year-old but I don't think I care all that much.

Some Pictures

2008-07-03T16:14:00.001-05:00

Boy with his ribbons from his last swim meet with the "Nads"

And look, they're friends now . . .

. . . sort of . . .

So Happy!

2008-07-02T08:34:00.000-05:00

Back in April my Windows Vista on my laptop decided it didn't like me and canceled my profile. After much swearing and anger I got it back, but minus all of my Firefox bookmarks and despite everything I did, I could not get them back. Everything else eventually came back, just not my bookmarks.
I admit to being lame and though I could come up with most of the places I go, I was missing a lot and had no idea what they were (duh that's why you use bookmarks).

Flash forward to today when my Firefox updated and I once again lost all my freaking bookmarks!

Gah!

I had just spent the last three months rebuilding and adding them, now it's all gone again!

So I decided, that I wasn't going to let Firefox and Vista get the best of me. So I read a bunch of websites about where the bookmarks would be (which I did before with no luck), ignored them all and found them on my own. I was able to, not only restore all of my bookmarks that got wiped out with the update, but also the ones missing since April!

Yay! Look out blogs-I-haven't-visited-in-three-months, I'm on my way!!!

Why I Haven't Been Posting More

2008-06-29T16:01:00.000-05:00

You may have noticed that I've really slacked off on the posting lately.

Honestly, it is not my fault.

Success!

2008-06-29T11:44:00.001-05:00

So several months ago, when I decided to be home this summer, I told my son that he was going to take up a sport. Unlike his Taekwondo, he would be expected to actually compete against others in this sport, and tough toenails if he didn't like it. Life is about competition and you need to challenge yourself.

Boy responded to this the same way he does everything, "eep!"

So he has been getting up early Monday-Saturday to participate on our town's swim team. I think at first he hated it. Although he loves swimming, he's more about playing than swimming back and forth. His first day back from vacation he hated me, hated swimming and wanted to quit.

That said, yesterday Boy kicked ASS at yesterday's swim meet. He placed in all six events that he swam in and LOVES swimming.

Just another instance of why it pays to make Boy do stuff he is afraid of.

Oh, and also the opposing team was called the Nadiators and their caps inexplicably had the word "Nads" written across them. What were the team parents thinking of? Did they really, really not notice? I couldn't stop snickering and Mr. Hobbitfeet kept chanting, "Go! Nads! Go! Nads!" under his breath. Plus, 95% of the people wearing the caps were girls!

P.S.-This picture is not from his ass-kicking meet this is from the week before because before we left yesterday, I decided I would only end up with the same pictures as last week and didn't bring my camera (which is why there are no pictures of the Nad caps).

Meet Willow!

2008-06-26T00:07:00.000-05:00

For reasons too numerous to go into here, we got a cat. A six-week old kitten to be exact.
We decided to ignore my son's hatred of all things feline (and also his allergy-after all he's been getting shots for almost two years now) and buy a cat; and I have to say he's really taken to her.

Girl wanted to name her Sandy (after the dog in Annie) and Boy wanted to name her Miss Kitty Fantastico (which is from Buffy). To compromise we all agreed on Willow to keep with the Buffy theme (my dog is named Mr. Giles) and not end up naming our gray cat "Sandy." Plus Girl likes Willow (especially when she's on How I Met Your Mother, Girl says she's really funny then- she doesn't understand about acting).

Anyway Giles is jealous, and eats her food, and they fight (like cats and dogs-sorry), but I think they'll warm up to each other eventually.

The Person You Are Going to Be

2008-06-24T08:07:00.001-05:00

Somewhere along the way, I heard that you are the person you are going to be by the time you are three. I don't remember where I heard that, but I remember utterly disagreeing with it. I think there are other things that shape you along the way. I didn't buy it.

Until lately.

When Boy was 3, he loved cars. I mean he LOVED cars. He knew what they all were. He would recognize a car a half block away and announce it. "Mom here comes a Chrysler blah blah blah." If you ever doubted that he was right, and went up to double check, he was always right on.
He had all his little Matchbox cars and he'd bring them up to you asking you to tell him what kind of car it was (they usually have the type written on the bottom). Sometimes the car didn't say, it just said "Malaysia," the country where the car was made, but Boy wouldn't buy it.
"I see words!" He'd exclaim, "What do the words say Mommy?"
"Malaysia, Boy. It's a Malaysia Car."
Once when my friend Leticia and her husband were watching him, he brought his cars. Jorge was quizzing him on each car. Then Jorge held up a car and asked what it was and Boy answered, "That's a Malaysia car."
Leticia said, "No, honey, there's no such thing," but Jorge turned it over and started laughing at what he read there. What can I say, he wouldn't take no for an answer.
Then when he was about five, he decided that he had learned all he could ever learn about cars and became obsessed with animals. Much the way he was with the cars, he set out to learn all there was to know about animals, and he pretty much succeeded. People would call him to ask him about animals. One of the 7th grade teachers, who helped out with after school care had my kindergarten son in to talk to her class. The cars were tossed under the bed forgotten and then eventually given away to other kids who actually wanted them.
Then he liked imaginary creatures, then music.
Now all of a sudden it's cars again. Though he doesn't remember anything he learned as a three-year-old, my eleven-year-old Boy is obsessed with cars again. He's already plotting the car he wants when he's sixteen. I haven't the heart to tell him we can barely afford college let alone a brand-new VW Beetle or a Porshe (which evidently were created by the same guy says my little guy and I won't question him- after eleven years I know better).

So I guess you are the person you are going to be when your three, or at least the person you are going to be at eleven. I bet he wishes he hadn't let me give his Malaysia cars away (they were always his favorite).

A Different Time

2008-06-23T19:46:00.001-05:00

When I was a little girl, my sisters and I would put a record onto my parent's turntable and jam. Not only would we sing and dance along, but we'd also act out the songs or albums. Sometimes there would be outfits or props. We'd dance to Michael Jackson's Thriller, the original soundtracks of Oliver, Annie, or the Sound of Music.
Like my sisters and I, my daughter loves singing and dancing along to music. She, however, is missing one thing. Mr. H. and I don't have a stereo. We have our computer with a better sound system than anything we could afford and we have speakers to hook up to our iPods, that's it.
Boy has a CD player (that he'd never share) and speakers for the iPod he bought himself.
So today I broke down and let my four-year-old daughter buy herself and iPod Shuffle. At first I felt bad about it. I kept thinking, "Why does a four-year-old need an iPod?" But all day long she has been singing and dancing all over the house, a happy as happy could be. So I remind myself that things are different than they were when I was little and deal with letting my daughter be very happy.

Boring Post

2008-06-19T23:54:00.001-05:00

Since our vacation, we've kind of been trying to last on very little until Mr. Hobbitfeet's next payday. Luckily it's today. So I was in desperate need of a snack, but there were none to be had so I decided to try and make hummus. We've had some dried chick peas in our cabinet for awhile, and I checked out the Internet and ran into some problems.
Every recipe I found was super complicated, but they all had the same basic ingredients so I decided to wing it. The results were pretty good. It isn't the best hummus I've ever had but it isn't even close to the worst either, and it works well with the Triscuts that my kids won't touch. I guess that I better replace the chick peas though for the next time we can't afford snacks.

Dead Tree for My Mom

2008-06-18T17:47:00.000-05:00

Dead Tree for My Mom
Originally uploaded by ejsm219

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2008-06-17T22:07:00.000-05:00

My daughter really, really, really wants to learn to read. She doesn't care that she's just four. She wants to read and she wants me to teach her. So we've been working on phonics. You might say we're getting hooked on them.
Today she really got it. I asked her out of nowhere if she could remember what letters get together to make the "chuh" sound. She got them in the wrong order at first but came up with a bunch of word with the "c-h" sound in them. Some were even words we hadn't talked about before.
Then about three hours later we were watching Underdog and she asked how to spell "charge." I asked if she remembered what made the "chuh" sound and she knew right away.

Super-awesome!

Bliss

2008-06-17T07:53:00.000-05:00

I got up this morning and Girl was at daycare for the first time in two weeks. It is, however, her second to last time to go there, which makes me slightly sad as it will take away my only free time. Mr. Hobbitfeet (and I, sort of) feel that it doesn't make a lot of sense because she will be in school three days a week next year and I won't be picking her up, she'll go to after school care until Mr. H gets her. This was decided, of course, before the park district canceled Kiddie Camp, which was supposed to allow her two hours of playing at the park with kids her own age everyday.
Then I dropped Boy off at swimming with his bike so I wouldn't have to pick him up. This made it possible for him to sleep in (all the way to 7 a.m.) but also made it possible for me to not sit in a hot parking lot for a half hour while he and his friends goofed around smacking each other with wet towels (or whatever happens in boys' locker rooms).
So, for the next two hours I am a woman of leisure. No Zack and Cody screaming out of the TV, and making my ears bleed. No endless bickering over who is in charge of the TV; Girl is a Disney channel devotee while Boy prefers the Discovery Channel- I agree with Boy, why is everybody so screechy on the Disney channel? No endless questions about if I was a character on Daria or a hobbit, what would I do, or requests for me to do that funny voice that sounds like Sandi from Daria
Just silent bliss!

For The First Time

2008-06-16T17:34:00.001-05:00

Boy just finished The Hobbit for the first time and is starting The Lord of The Rings trilogy. I am a little proud and slightly jealous that he has this great experience ahead of him. Awesome!

Homeward Bound

2008-06-11T21:52:00.000-05:00

Well after a week of intense activity, we've decided (or rather Mr. Hobbitfeet and the kids decided) that we should cut our vacation a little short and head home to rescue our puppy from boarding, and enjoy a couple of days at home in our flooded town.
We've already made it back to Topeka, the most boring town that kids could ever be in love with. Seriously, we went to see beautiful mountains, and got in some of Boy's boring-ass scientific crap. Literally. We watched a program at Pike's Peak where a park ranger showed us different animals' poop. We saw Santa Claus in June for Girl (who vows she loves him more than even A.- Boy's friend with whom Girl is obsessed) at an amusement park 100% designed for kids. We went to a zoo, AND a water park, and yet to them nothing is so awesome as Topeka where all we did was take some silly pictures and hang out in our hotel. Kids are weird.

On a positive note our day at the water park washed away a lot of Girl's scabs and she's left with pretty pink "new skin" and you can hardly tell she fell down at all. Mr. Hobbitfeet was annoyed when I made him pick up triple antibiotic cream at the store, and Girl hated me every time I applied it, but, damn, does that stuff heal cuts fast.
Anyway I'll leave you with some of my favorite pictures from Garden of the Gods and the Denver Zoo.

The Girl Who Fell Down

2008-06-09T22:49:00.000-05:00

My husband sometimes does stupid things. Let's face it, everyone does stupid things, but the fact is my husband does stupid things that often have a bad result. For instance, his car hood stays up on its own. My car hood has a prop bar. Once when he was looking under the hood, he forgot that 5 minutes before he put up a prop bar and when he couldn't close the hood he slammed it down so hard that he snapped the metal prop bar in half, now I have to prop open my hood with a snow-brush. He did something similar to my ice maker and a million other things.
By far the dumbest thing he has ever done was to drop my daughter on her face in a bunch of gravel. He has terrible night-vision, but he was letting her ride on his shoulders in the dark because she was tired (good dad), he thought he'd take a shortcut (that wasn't actually a shortcut) through a campsite and tripped on a faucet and they both went down. He landed on his knees, she landed on her face. So, does this accident make him a bad dad?
I was walking three feet behind them talking to my son when it happened, does that make me a bad mom?
From the looks we've been getting lately, the answer is yes.
It's funny how kids have no qualms about asking us about her face, but the parents, who are supposedly being tactful, look at her then us and you can see the judgement in their faces even if they don't say a word. They think that we beat our kid, or are at least neglectful.
As we walked through the zoo today, we got those looks a lot. Never mind that our daughter was sitting nicely in the wagon and their kids were running around throwing fits and not listening. They looked at her than us, and thought in their head, "Look at her face, they must be bad parents."
So why should I care that some zoo parents in a city 1,000 miles away from my home think I am a bad parent? Because every mom at some point wonders if they are a crap parent.
Don't get me wrong, I know I am not a crap parent, my kids are happy and brilliant (and that's not just my own opinion) but if I were a great parent, would I, after what happened last Friday, let this happen:

Some Pictures to Make You Wish You Were Here

2008-06-07T22:23:00.000-05:00

Doing Fine, but Looking bad

2008-06-07T08:33:00.000-05:00

Her scrapes look bad, but she is feeling okay.

Vacation-All I've Ever Wanted Days 1 & 2

2008-06-07T00:09:00.001-05:00

First a little mood music. I discovered this on Mr. Hobbitfeet's iPod playing our favorite game of searching for a word (highway in this case) and playing everything that comes up. So play this and imagine the four of us driving down the highway screaming this as loud as we can.

Day One:

We made really good time on our way to Topeka. I need to say that my kids were SO excited about Topeka. There is an episode of Foster's Home for Imaginary Creatures that they quote incessantly and they couldn't wait to be in the city itself and say, "It's hot in Toe-PEEK-uhh! I'm a hot toe-picker. Topeka's hot. My Toe is hot. Pick it!" Here is my family by a Topeka sign being Hot:

and being toe-pickers:

The first thing we did when we got there was visit a site recommended by Roadside America: The World's Largest Meat Cleaver, which is just in a random parking lot.

If you look closely at the picture you can see a lady who thinks we're really weird.

Then we hit another Roadside America spot to see a giant wren.

It almost pooped on Mr. H.

Then we went to our hotel where Girl suddenly decided that not only was she no longer afraid to jump into the pool by herself, but she could also go down the three-story water slide alone. We also found out that there was a tornado watch. The tornado never came but a storm knocked out the hotel power. Luckily it was late enough that we were able to sleep through the outage.

Day Two:
On day two we got a late start and discovered that Boy hadn't packed anything but two long sleeve shirts and a dress shirt. So we had to stop and buy new ones. I was sick as a dog with some weird stomach virus. The only thing that seemed mildly interesting was the OZ museum but it didn't open for another half hour and we had an endless stretch of Kansas and two cranky kids, needless to say, there are no pictures for today. By the time we passed the "Welcome to Colorado" sign, we were too tired to stop. But we finally arrived and after some dinner and getting settled we let the kids swim in the campground pool until well after dark.
On our way back to our cabin, Girl was so tired that Mr. Hobbitfeet put her on his shoulders. With our cabin in sight, Mr. Hobbitfeet tripped over something and the two of them fell face down into gravel. She's pretty scrapped and bloody, but overall okay. I will post pictures in the morning.

So one good day, one bad day. We'll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully it's a better day as it is our 5th wedding anniversary.

A Rather Amusing Day

2008-06-04T22:10:00.000-05:00

I have been cracking up all day long.

Girl and I were talking about her baby cousin (who's 18 months old on Saturday) and she did air quotes like this:
Me: Well, Little D is a baby.
Girl: You mean a "baby."

It's her dad's fault. He is always doing air quotes ironically. She even said it with his tone. I could kick his butt.

Then we got the "WORLD'S UGLIEST RENTAL CAR" for our trip, a white Dodge Magnum. I have always hated white cars and this car looks like a giant stepped on a minivan. I've renamed it the Dorko car for my family because it is as ugly as an old fashioned rooftop turtle carrier that my family calls dorko boxes.

I also bought those vacuum storage bags and had a lot of fun watching all our stuff shrink down into little flat packages.

Then we bought Boy sunglasses that snap on to his glasses and he walked around with them on all night, so we renamed him Cory Hart and laughed at him saying he could look at our light bulbs now.

So now you now why I am nerd. I'll see you in a week and a half!

Just In Case. . .

2008-06-02T01:32:00.001-05:00

. . .you were needing another damn picture of my kids (or a clearer picture of Boy's new glasses).