I thought I was going to have to declare a tie for the month of March. And then I logged in to find this gem:
Anonymous commented on oops cringe: “IMO, mouth washing is up there with spanking. A really, really bad idea.”
I had gone through about a week's worth of posts yesterday, but I must have missed this one. Or maybe I thought Lisa had pointed it already. Anyway, I gave it a point as it stood for the maybe toxic? soap and another for inciting the ire of the Internets.
I will announce March's winner tomorrow. Karen is in the lead with her really bad ideas.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Pathos
Mama has 23 hours of leave. Poppy came and retrieved small people at 11 AM and assured he'd return with them "sometime around 10 tomorrow". I have class on Saturdays, so that limited my fun activities (or at least potentially delayed them). So far I:
- ate a hard-boiled egg for lunch
- went to class
- came home from class, starved. Had I eaten breakfast? No. Lunch? No. What the heck did I eat all day?! A hard-boiled egg. I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (protein, sugar, carbs - STAT!), had some yogurt, an apple, and a tall glass of iced tea
- thought about grocery shopping since we're out of milk, bread, and cat food
- went upstairs instead and fell asleep
- woke up at 5 PM
- read WME and wrote this post
I think I may have lost my groove, girls. Even the idea of a mani/pedi paled in the shadow of uninterrupted sleep.
- ate a hard-boiled egg for lunch
- went to class
- came home from class, starved. Had I eaten breakfast? No. Lunch? No. What the heck did I eat all day?! A hard-boiled egg. I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (protein, sugar, carbs - STAT!), had some yogurt, an apple, and a tall glass of iced tea
- thought about grocery shopping since we're out of milk, bread, and cat food
- went upstairs instead and fell asleep
- woke up at 5 PM
- read WME and wrote this post
I think I may have lost my groove, girls. Even the idea of a mani/pedi paled in the shadow of uninterrupted sleep.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Slave Driver With No Fashion Sense
The boys and a friend this afternoon, with Chris as the attending parent while I worked from home in the den. After a couple of hours' hard playing, I heard Chris talking with the kids about snack. Normal kitchen sounds happened for a few mintues, then things got quiet again and I figured everyone was digging in until I heard a big kerfluffle coming from the kitchen. Dragging sounds! Cupboards banging! Excited yelps! I went to investigate.
Three small boys were perched at odd spots in the kitchen, having dragged stools and benches around so they could climb for our candy, which is stored high overhead. Judging by the bits of wrapper and thin layer of Nerds on the floor, they'd already managed to free a few bits from captivity. "Get down," I said, in my most polite do-this-right-now voice (they had a guest...). I noted three small plates of apple and Cheez-Its clearly meant to be snack and wondered why they hadn't been served.
With the climbers safely back on the Nerd-covered ground, I went in search of Chris. I found him in the front yard, chatting amiably with a neighbor. "Huny, did you give the kids permission to help themselves to candy?" From the look on his face, he had not. Also, it might have been a surprise to him that the kids were in the house at all. I left Chris with the neighbor and went back to the house. "Lars, get the vacuum," I directed.
"But I have a friend over," he cheerfully pointed out.
"Yes, you do, and the two of you have made a mess that must be cleaned up right now. Maybe your friend would like to help?" Lars did not look amused. With a glance at my face to make sure I wasn't kidding, Lars gave a resigned sigh and got out the vacuum. He did not ask his friend to help so the friend hovered in the next room, a little unsure what to do. When the loose Nerd count had been drastically reduced (I can't say cleaned up - every time I go in the kitchen I find another one), the boys got their actual snack and I returned to the den.
After dinner, I was helping Ross get ready for a birthday overnight he's going to tomorrow. He'd picked a pair of nice pants (where nice = no stains or holes, not chinos or anything fancy) and I brought over a coordinating polo shirt. Ross regarded me calmly, then held up a not-exactly-nice (where n-e-n = no stains or holes but still a free t-shirt from the local sporting goods store that has seen a lot of washing) t-shirt and said he was wearing it to the party. He jumped in before I could speak, "Mama, I don't want to look like a dork. I want to wear this shirt." I noticed then that he had several of the same t-shirt in his pile of partywear.
"Are you bringing three of the same shirt?"
He looked at me, then at the pile of clothes. He gestured, "This one is to wear to the party tomorrow, that one is to go with my sleeping pants for bed, and I'm going to wear the other one for coming home."
"Don't you want to look nice for the party?"
Ross rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "Yes! That's why I'm going to wear THIS shirt!" He looked at me with the sympathy one affords the soft headed until I left the room. A few minutes later, he appeared by my side. "I love you anyway, Mama," he said, "It's ok that you don't know the cool shirts."
Three small boys were perched at odd spots in the kitchen, having dragged stools and benches around so they could climb for our candy, which is stored high overhead. Judging by the bits of wrapper and thin layer of Nerds on the floor, they'd already managed to free a few bits from captivity. "Get down," I said, in my most polite do-this-right-now voice (they had a guest...). I noted three small plates of apple and Cheez-Its clearly meant to be snack and wondered why they hadn't been served.
With the climbers safely back on the Nerd-covered ground, I went in search of Chris. I found him in the front yard, chatting amiably with a neighbor. "Huny, did you give the kids permission to help themselves to candy?" From the look on his face, he had not. Also, it might have been a surprise to him that the kids were in the house at all. I left Chris with the neighbor and went back to the house. "Lars, get the vacuum," I directed.
"But I have a friend over," he cheerfully pointed out.
"Yes, you do, and the two of you have made a mess that must be cleaned up right now. Maybe your friend would like to help?" Lars did not look amused. With a glance at my face to make sure I wasn't kidding, Lars gave a resigned sigh and got out the vacuum. He did not ask his friend to help so the friend hovered in the next room, a little unsure what to do. When the loose Nerd count had been drastically reduced (I can't say cleaned up - every time I go in the kitchen I find another one), the boys got their actual snack and I returned to the den.
After dinner, I was helping Ross get ready for a birthday overnight he's going to tomorrow. He'd picked a pair of nice pants (where nice = no stains or holes, not chinos or anything fancy) and I brought over a coordinating polo shirt. Ross regarded me calmly, then held up a not-exactly-nice (where n-e-n = no stains or holes but still a free t-shirt from the local sporting goods store that has seen a lot of washing) t-shirt and said he was wearing it to the party. He jumped in before I could speak, "Mama, I don't want to look like a dork. I want to wear this shirt." I noticed then that he had several of the same t-shirt in his pile of partywear.
"Are you bringing three of the same shirt?"
He looked at me, then at the pile of clothes. He gestured, "This one is to wear to the party tomorrow, that one is to go with my sleeping pants for bed, and I'm going to wear the other one for coming home."
"Don't you want to look nice for the party?"
Ross rolled his eyes and exclaimed, "Yes! That's why I'm going to wear THIS shirt!" He looked at me with the sympathy one affords the soft headed until I left the room. A few minutes later, he appeared by my side. "I love you anyway, Mama," he said, "It's ok that you don't know the cool shirts."
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Things Only A Mother Would (Has To) Say
"Did you wipe? Good, then wash your hands and stop talking about poop so loudly in the downstairs hall."
"See? There was a very good reason we taught you not to poke others in the butt."
"Regardless of what he said tonight, I don't think it's a good idea for you to wake Daddy at 4:30am to get your bath going."
"Call me the Minister of Squashing Brilliant Ideas...we are NOT calling the kitten 'Mike Wazowski'.
"See? There was a very good reason we taught you not to poke others in the butt."
"Regardless of what he said tonight, I don't think it's a good idea for you to wake Daddy at 4:30am to get your bath going."
"Call me the Minister of Squashing Brilliant Ideas...we are NOT calling the kitten 'Mike Wazowski'.
Mini Me
I found Kate sitting on the sofa in the TV room with her electronic Go, Diego, Go! game. "Hey, Kate, it's time to come to dinner." I said. She looked up at me slowly with a sort of pleading expression. Big. Sigh. "I'm trying to get some work done!" she said.
This reminder that I sometimes forgo quality fun time with my kids in favor of working made the fact that I fully intended to get some work done at the table while the girls were eating a bit awkward. But I did it anyway.
This reminder that I sometimes forgo quality fun time with my kids in favor of working made the fact that I fully intended to get some work done at the table while the girls were eating a bit awkward. But I did it anyway.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Been Scarce Lately...
So here's my addition to the conversation, since I've been under a rock.
The other night at supper, something happened, who knows what. Will started crying, Samuel was crying, the Ginger Bread Man was trying to deal very patiently with them, but about to lose his cool and what do I do? Whip out the camera to capture it all on film. The GBM looked at me like I literally was the worst mother ever.
The other night at supper, something happened, who knows what. Will started crying, Samuel was crying, the Ginger Bread Man was trying to deal very patiently with them, but about to lose his cool and what do I do? Whip out the camera to capture it all on film. The GBM looked at me like I literally was the worst mother ever.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Warning Eyes
Lisa commented about The Look her dad used to give and it reminded me of a conversation the boys and I had on the way up to Rochester for their hockey tournament last weekend...
The kids had needed a few too many reminders about manners during our fast food lunch stop for my comfort, especially when facing a weekend full of public meals. "Boys," I began, "We're going to have a lot of meals with your teammates and their parents and your coaches this weekend. I'd really like to be proud of your manners. You know, not have to remind you about them all the time?"
Both kids nodded solemnly, then Ross piped up, "And if we don't have good manners, you can always give us the Warning Eyes." He widened his eyes, furrowed his brow and glared at me. When I cowed a little in response, he arched one brow and sat back on a diagonal, still glaring. Clearly, I was Warned.
"Nicely done! You must see those eyes a lot," I said with a giggle.
"YOU do them, but so does my teacher at school. She can give them to the whole class at once!" He paused a moment, in awe. "And if I still don't use my napkin or keep talking with my mouth full or whatever, you can give me the You're Done Now Eyes and I'll go look for some stairs for time-out." Lars nodded in agreement and they both returned to their lunches, manners intact.
The kids had needed a few too many reminders about manners during our fast food lunch stop for my comfort, especially when facing a weekend full of public meals. "Boys," I began, "We're going to have a lot of meals with your teammates and their parents and your coaches this weekend. I'd really like to be proud of your manners. You know, not have to remind you about them all the time?"
Both kids nodded solemnly, then Ross piped up, "And if we don't have good manners, you can always give us the Warning Eyes." He widened his eyes, furrowed his brow and glared at me. When I cowed a little in response, he arched one brow and sat back on a diagonal, still glaring. Clearly, I was Warned.
"Nicely done! You must see those eyes a lot," I said with a giggle.
"YOU do them, but so does my teacher at school. She can give them to the whole class at once!" He paused a moment, in awe. "And if I still don't use my napkin or keep talking with my mouth full or whatever, you can give me the You're Done Now Eyes and I'll go look for some stairs for time-out." Lars nodded in agreement and they both returned to their lunches, manners intact.
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