Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
.
I had a dream that I had to drive to Madison
to deliver a painting
for some silly reason.
I took a wrong turn
& ended up in Michigan.
I saw you and you took me
to a giant tire swing.
Gave me a push
and you started singing.
I sang along with i was swinging.
The sound of our voices made us forget
everything
that had ever hurt our feelings.
to deliver a painting
for some silly reason.
I took a wrong turn
& ended up in Michigan.
I saw you and you took me
to a giant tire swing.
Gave me a push
and you started singing.
I sang along with i was swinging.
The sound of our voices made us forget
everything
that had ever hurt our feelings.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
All I want for Christmas...
Dear Santa,
I've been a good Mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my daughter's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprintresistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat In the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime
family.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my kids saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think they want the crayon back.
Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
Mommy
P.S...One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
I've been a good Mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my daughter's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprintresistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat In the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime
family.
Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my kids saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think they want the crayon back.
Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Yours Always,
Mommy
P.S...One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.
Monday, December 15, 2008
I'm a penis, you're a penis, we're all penises (penii?)
Last weekend, Evan, the kids and I drove down to Richmond to see the lovely Jen, and go to the Bizarre Bazaar, which, by the way, is friggin' awesome and everyone should go.
My husband has an iPhone, which all of you have heard me bitch and moan about constantly. The iPhone* does something to people who own one. It becomes the be all and end all; as if Jesus himself has returned to earth in the form of a phone.
He does all sorts of obnoxious things with it, just to prove all of the neat things it can do.
Example One: Song comes on the radio, and I say "Oh! I love this song!" He will whip out the iphone and proudly ask "Do you want to know what it's called and who sings it?" Despite protests of "But I already know who sings it..." the iphone will already be fired up as he holds it close to the speaker, letting it register the name and artist of the song. Three tries later, it tells us what I already know.
Example Two: While driving in the car, he will insist on pulling out the iphone to "check the weather," an act which baffles me to no end, for when one is driving in the car, one is essentially surrounded by windows. Windows, apparently are obsolete, having been replaced by the iphone. I just don't get it....Is everything white? Then it's probably snowing.
Are th trees swaying? Then it's probably windy.
Is it bright out? Then it's probably sunny.
Is everything wet? Then it's probably raining.
YOu can't see anything? Then it's dark and it's probably night time. I fail to see why we need the iphone to check this.
Example Three: When traveling the route from DC to NJ, which we do once a month, he will consult the iphone, so it can tell us exactly where we are, and what exit to take. Nevermind the fact that there are mile markers, and we are familiar with every exit from here to there, having spent three years traveling with children who nurse. But no. iPhone all the way.
But i digress.
I have nicknamed his phone the iPenis, because it is always in his pants. And if it's not in his pants, it's in his hand and he's playing with it.
Back to the original story.
We had finally arrived in Richmond last Saturday, and we were told by Jen to "Follow the signs for Richmond Raceway." Everything was well marked, and it was all systems go for being on the right track. After driving for a few minutes without seeing a sign, I made the mistake of questioning the notion that maybe we had missed one, as we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.
Evan reached for the iPenis for the gajumpteenth time that trip and i grabbed it and stuck it in the visor on my side, declaring "Stop with this iPenis nonsense. We're going to follow directions like normal god damn people. NO MORE iPenis!"
Cecilia, who had been sleeping for most of the trip, piped of from the back seat "I a penis?? NOOOO!! You a penis!!!" and proceeded to taunt Evan with calls of "You a peeeeeeenis!" and would occasionally blurt out "PENIS!" at random points of time.
Life gets rough when your kids turn into parents.
It gets even rougher when they use your words against you :)
*See also iWhore
My husband has an iPhone, which all of you have heard me bitch and moan about constantly. The iPhone* does something to people who own one. It becomes the be all and end all; as if Jesus himself has returned to earth in the form of a phone.
He does all sorts of obnoxious things with it, just to prove all of the neat things it can do.
Example One: Song comes on the radio, and I say "Oh! I love this song!" He will whip out the iphone and proudly ask "Do you want to know what it's called and who sings it?" Despite protests of "But I already know who sings it..." the iphone will already be fired up as he holds it close to the speaker, letting it register the name and artist of the song. Three tries later, it tells us what I already know.
Example Two: While driving in the car, he will insist on pulling out the iphone to "check the weather," an act which baffles me to no end, for when one is driving in the car, one is essentially surrounded by windows. Windows, apparently are obsolete, having been replaced by the iphone. I just don't get it....Is everything white? Then it's probably snowing.
Are th trees swaying? Then it's probably windy.
Is it bright out? Then it's probably sunny.
Is everything wet? Then it's probably raining.
YOu can't see anything? Then it's dark and it's probably night time. I fail to see why we need the iphone to check this.
Example Three: When traveling the route from DC to NJ, which we do once a month, he will consult the iphone, so it can tell us exactly where we are, and what exit to take. Nevermind the fact that there are mile markers, and we are familiar with every exit from here to there, having spent three years traveling with children who nurse. But no. iPhone all the way.
But i digress.
I have nicknamed his phone the iPenis, because it is always in his pants. And if it's not in his pants, it's in his hand and he's playing with it.
Back to the original story.
We had finally arrived in Richmond last Saturday, and we were told by Jen to "Follow the signs for Richmond Raceway." Everything was well marked, and it was all systems go for being on the right track. After driving for a few minutes without seeing a sign, I made the mistake of questioning the notion that maybe we had missed one, as we seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.
Evan reached for the iPenis for the gajumpteenth time that trip and i grabbed it and stuck it in the visor on my side, declaring "Stop with this iPenis nonsense. We're going to follow directions like normal god damn people. NO MORE iPenis!"
Cecilia, who had been sleeping for most of the trip, piped of from the back seat "I a penis?? NOOOO!! You a penis!!!" and proceeded to taunt Evan with calls of "You a peeeeeeenis!" and would occasionally blurt out "PENIS!" at random points of time.
Life gets rough when your kids turn into parents.
It gets even rougher when they use your words against you :)
*See also iWhore
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Quote of the Day
"Whatever you give a woman, she will make it greater. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So, if you give her any crap, be ready to receive a ton of shit!"
Thursday, December 04, 2008
The Great Glitter Incident of '08
Since no holiday season would be complete without a messy arts and crafts project, Cecilia and I made pinecone turkeys the week before thanksgiving. While they looked very festive with their wiggle eyes and feathers, what they really needed was a good dose of glitter. As you can see, Cecilia took the job very seriously.
Monday, December 01, 2008
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