if stress is the devil…
…then Harry & David’s Moose Munch is its evil minion bastard.
Just sayin’.
No, I won’t elaborate.
Dark place. Very dark place.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (1)ten spot
Some pretty cool 10’s:
the Ten Commandments (duh)
David Letterman’s Top Ten List (Oh, c’mon…it used to be funny.)
Ben 10 Alien Force (Moms afflicted with knowing this Cartoon Network reference, I feel your pain; we’ll cry together later.)
Ten, Pearl Jam’s debut album in 1991 (Thank you, Wikipedia.)
the Big Ten (Go Fighting Illini! No ties to that school…I just like saying Illini.)
a 10-min mile (I’ll get there again, so help me God.)
The Top Ten US Killer Tornadoes (Ok, so maybe not cool. Maybe actually terrifying. If a table of statistics can be terrifying. And maybe a little disturbing that someone would have assembled such a list. Why? For what purpose? For the sake of upsetting an innocent tornado-phobe doing a google search on cool “ten” things? I ask you.)
And quite possibly the coolest of all 10’s ever in the history of things 10…
…this guy.
I don’t know how it happened, but my very first baby has reached his first decade mark. 10 years ago today, this kid changed my life forever and effectively turned my then-childless world neatly upside-down on its unsuspecting head. That head has a few more grey hairs than it did back then, but I’ve never looked back. He made me a mommy. And I’ve been thankful every day since.
Despite the stretch marks and boob droop.
Schmoopity schmoop schmoop.
Love you, dude. Happy Birthday.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (3)’shrooms
Ah, my Emma. She has her moments. Her sweeter-than-honey-damn-but-she’s-cute moments.
There are other moments, too. The ones on the other end of the honey spectrum. The this-doesn’t-even-come-close-to-honey-or-anything-remotely-sweet moments. We’ve experienced bunches of those moments as of late. A gaggle of bunches of ‘em.
Sigh.
But the other day, she took a break from those moments and wandered back into the realm of the honey category. And how sweet that moment was. Oh my God, how sweet.
She walks up and presents me with these…
…and says, “Mom, these are my Mushroom Series books that I wrote. I’m going to sell them so we’ll have money to buy a house.”
Yeah.
I melted.
Mushroom Series.
Where do I even start?
(I guess you could say I should start with Book One: The Mushrooms. And then the natural progression, of course, would be to move on to Book Two: Many Mushrooms. It only makes sense.)
I love this child.
I love that she took the time to write–just one book?–NAY, a whole series of books in an effort to make our dreams of owning an Oregon home come true. (I know what you’re thinking…you’re thinking is two of something technically a series? Really? Never fear, dear reader…Book Three is in the works and coming to a Fungus Publishing House near you in ‘09. Literature takes time, man. Don’t rush her.)
I love that she chose mushrooms, of all things, on which to focus her 5-year-old literary efforts. (Don’t ask, I have no idea.) She could have gone with your standard kitties or teddy bears or unicorns, but no. She took a risk and explored a market that has yet been untapped.
I love that the pages of these books are filled with, well, mushrooms. And lots of them. Some even have speech bubbles. Fantastic stuff. Truly.
And most of all, I love that she priced each book clearly on the front cover, so there was no question as to how much cheddar these masterpieces would set a buyer back.
As her mommy-agent, however, I think I need to speak to my client about throwin’ in some zeroes after those fives. That down payment ain’t gonna make itself.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (3)terrorist threat level: bunny
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Haven’t updated the blog in ages. I’m sorry. Truly. I’ll change. I’ll make it up to you. The dog ate it. I had cholera. He didn’t mean anything to me. Insert any standard apology/excuse here. Chastise me if you will. But while you’re doing that, loyal reader (Hi, Papa!), I’ve got a yarn to tell…
So.
Kyle comes up to me with one of those “I-got-in-trouble-at-school-today-please-don’t-murdalize-me” looks on his face after school last week. I don’t have to say a word. I just shoot him my patent “what-the-heck-did-you-do-kid-and-no-promises-that-I-won’t-murdalize-ya” look and he hands over an envelope. A sealed envelope.
That CAN’T be good.
“What did you do, Ky?”
*blink blink blink* (Kyle blinks rapidly and constantly when he knows he’s in trouble. When he knows a murdalizing is comin’.)
I drew a picture.
“You drew a picture?” (A picture that got you into trouble? Crap. A cartoonish “anatomical chart”-type thing instantly comes to mind. Great. My kid is THAT kid in his class. Wonderful.)
Yeah. *blink blink blink*
“What kind of picture? “Was it…” (perverted? disturbing? to scale?) “…inappropriate, Ky?”
*blink* No. It was violent. *blink blink*
So at this point, I simultaneously went from relieved that my son wasn’t future Penthouse Forum material to dread that I’d need to get him into counseling re: a possible obsession with sketching medieval torture devices.
“Violent? What do you mean, ‘violent’, honey?” (I suppose I could have opened the envelope right there to see for myself, but I didn’t want the other mommies at parent pick up to be afraid for their safety should they glance over and see the horrific depiction that I held in my hand.)
*blink blink blinkety blink blink*
It’s a picture of a mutant bunny.
And here, I breathe a sigh of relief. My son is not perverted. Nor is he sadistic. He drew a picture of a bunny. How bad could it be, right? Granted, there was a mutation involved, but we’re still talking about a bunny here, people. Professional counseling avoided at this time. Whew.
While driving home, we discussed it in detail.
Per Kyle, the class had an assignment to draw a dot on a piece of paper, then exchange that paper with another student. They then had to create a drawing, incorporating the dot that their classmate had made. Kyle drew a bunny. A mutant bunny. A mutant bunny that was attacking New York.
OMG. Outstanding.
I could wait no longer to open the mysterious envelope and see this drawing that had Kyle’s teacher so concerned. At my first red light, I tore past the seal and pulled it out, in all it’s 9-year-old-boy-artist glory. (And had I been drinking a beverage at the time, it would have promptly been sprayed all over my windshield.)
As you can plainly see, we have an over-grown, bluntly-fanged, carnivorous (surely all part of the before-mentioned mutation) bunny, who happens to be holding a tasty morsel of the human variety. And apparently, he’s wreaked some bunny havoc in the city, because there are flamey things goin’ on over there. Thank God for our armed forces, though, because they’ve come to the city’s rescue (and that of the tasty human morsel), and both the military helicopter and the tank are unleashing their whoop-ass on the large rodent.
Sweet.
“So what did Mrs. Tyler say to you about the picture, Ky?”
*blink blink* (I’m pretty sure he was still blinking, anyway. That’s his M.O. But now I’m driving and facing forward, so you’ll just have to go with my previous experience with the child and take my word for it.)
She thought that the helicopter was going to fly into the buildings like the planes did on 9/11. But I swear, Mom, they’re attacking the bunny. I wouldn’t want to show anyone bombing New York. I wasn’t thinking of that at all.
*blink*
Ok. I went from amused to annoyed in a heartbeat.
I mean, really?
She looked at this and got 9/11???
“Did you explain to her that the helicopter and tank are trying to save the city, Ky?” (I mean, duh. Of course they are. See the bullets? Clearly aimed at and about to hit the nasty wabbit. The tank has actually landed a successful gut shot. Sheesh. And did I miss the CNN reports about Al Qaeda using brainwashed bunnies in their terrorist attack in 2001? Maybe so. I tried to keep up with all the developments, but maybe I missed that one.)
*blink blink*
Yeah, but when I told her that, she said she still had to send a note home with you because of the level of violence in the picture over all.
Let me be perfectly clear that I really like Kyle’s teacher. My issue isn’t so much with her. I suppose that, due to the 9/11 attack, this nation as a whole has become especially sensitive to the topic of violence. And in some cases, rightfully so. I understand that we now have a general feeling of vulnerability and I certainly would never advocate art that glorified that awful, tragic day.
But give me a freakin’ break.
My issue is that this is a drawing of a bunny. Yes, he’s a mutant bunny, and yes, he’s up to no good. But is it any different than the Godzilla drawings and Red Baron-esque flight-combat depictions that little boys have drawn for generations?
No.
Am I worried that Kyle is going to start mutating small animals and sick them on the general population or construct a devious terrorist plot involving livestock?
Not so much.
I wish that we could ease up on our kids and not pound fear and over-sensitivity into them at every turn. Let them BE KIDS. And draw mutant bunnies if they’re so inclined. Or whatever.
Anyway, like good little parents, we reiterated Mrs. Tyler’s concern with Kyle, and he agreed to not depict any violent acts in his artwork at school anymore.
Would hate to upset anyone who had actually been the victim of a mutant bunny attack. That would be insensitive.
Rant over.
But back to the assignment. How did Kyle incorporate his classmate’s dot into the mutant bunny picture? The dot became the eye patch, of course.
Awesome.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (9)um, thanks?
***disclaimer…no child was injured during the following scenario. this mommy’s self-confidence, well…that’s another story entirely.***
emma should wear a sandwich board that reads: “warning. watching tv with me could be hazardous to your ego.”
so, i’m sitting there, minding my own business this morning…taking a break…just chillin’ in front of one of my shows, and emma comes out and plops down next to me in the chair.
aww…this is nice, i thought. cuddle time with my monkey. warm. cozy. love it.
but then.
cut to commercial.
some miracle wrinkle cream graces the tv screen, and emma says (very matter-of-factly), “you should get that, mom. i don’t like that you have wrinkles.”
i choke a little, regain my composure and ask:
“what? where do i have wrinkles?”
giving it some thought, she replies, “here, on your elbows…”
oh, ok. hahaha. what a cutie. i don’t have to beat her, afterall.
“em, everybody has wrinkles on their elbows.”
“well, then you could use it on the wrinkles right here,” she says, indicating the crow’s feet smile lines at the corner of my eyes.
sigh. can’t really argue with her. or beat her, for that matter. dammit. foiled on both counts.
the next commercial, as luck would have it, is for some slim-quick weight loss product. yeah, you guessed it. emma pipes up.
“you should get that, too, mom. it could help you lose weight.”
and yeah, you guessed it again. cuddle time came to an abrupt and ego-injured halt… i was willing to give her a pass with the first comment, but two? two in a row without a chance to even recover in between?
i don’t think so.
let the beating commence.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (7)blog entry in staccato. (bloggato?)
packing. big truck. moving. cleaning. panicking. breathe breathe breathe. missing. husband. feeling of home. more panicking. breathe breathe breathe. neglecting. blog. apologies to all.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (4)“awesome” is awesome…
…and I use it myself in conversation with such frequency, that were I to strap an Awesome Counter to my neck in the morning, I’d be pretty embarrassed by it’s results come the end of the day. But there are so many other descriptives out there that don’t get used to their full potential in everyday conversation.
Except by my kids.
Take for instance, my Seanie. Grandma and Grandpa Nelson took us out to dinner the other night, and Sean proclaimed on the way home, “That hamburger was MARVELOUS!!!”
When is the last time YOU had a marvelous hamburger?
I thought so.
I’ve had plenty of awesome hamburgers, but never a marvelous one.
And then there’s Kyle.
He’s my junk collector. Loves (and is crazy good at) finding what he considers to be treasures that have been abandoned (read: tossed because it’s junk) by their original owners. Kid’s got a hawk eye for that kind of stuff.
So yesterday, we’re walking through a parking lot, and as he finds a particularly sparkly remnant of costume jewelry earring, he declares at the top of his voice, “THIS is my most EXTRAORDINARY find EVER!”
And he and Sean plotted how they would manage his fortune during the entire drive home.
Extraordinary. Marvelous.
I love those kids, I swear.
They’re awesome.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (2)man, i was lookin’ goooooood…
Know how I know I was lookin’ so good?
Because my son, with his face screwed up in a confused “what the…?” expression, asks me yesterday, “Mom, are you wearing your pajamas today?”
No.
I wasn’t.
To add to my dismay, mind you, this was hours into the day. After I’d left the house, ran some errands, and exposed my wardrobe choice to the greater Peoria populace.
Thanks, Seanie. Mommy appreciates your honesty and candor. Really, she does. (Ya little shit.)
Ok, so granted…my pants were baggy workout capris. (But they had a sporty stripe down the side! Who sleeps in pants with a sporty stripe down the side, I ask you?) And I paired them with a stylish t-shirt. Of my husbands. That was long enough on me that I could have technically gone sans pants and it would have modestly covered all the necessary parts that need covering. Perfectly and fashionably appropriate.
(If I was also wearing jeans that didn’t come up over my ass and was flashing gang signs at the peeps I saw on my errand route.)
Whatever. I had on sneakers. If nothing else, sneakers say, “I cared enough to get dressed today.” Case closed.
The truth of the matter is, my glamourous couture was the direct result of lack of energy. I’m busy, man. And dead-dog tired. Come to think of it, maybe next time I’ll just skip donning the baggy-looks-like-pajamas outfit when I get up in the morning, and instead, remain in my baggy-and-yes-it’s-pajamas-dammit pajamas.
Plus sneakers. I don’t want to look ridiculous, after all.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (3)holy hannah
That last post was a long one. Wow. If you managed to stick it out and read the whole thing, you get 5 bonus points. You earned them.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (2)what do you do with a scurvy pirate?
what do you do with a scurvy pirate?
what do you do with a scurvy pirate?
make. him. walk. the. plank!
(A great big, heartfelt thank you to The Backyardigans, Nickelodeon, and all the evil powers therein that managed to permanently embed that song into my brain. Thanks much.)
Kyle was a scurvy pirate this day. Got his face painted at a friend’s bday party, and he was happy to act the part for me while I wielded my camera.
Come to think of it, pirate face or not, Kyle’s not one to ever shy away from the camera. Getting him to give me a natural-type smile is another matter entirely. But that’s another blog entry, after I’ve gathered plenty of goofy-faced Kyle pictures to prove my case.
So, the focus of this blog entry is, well, there is none. We’re going with random today. I’ve had some gentle and affectionate nagging from some folks (Hi, Kim! Hi, Papa!) that I haven’t updated the blog in a while. Guess I haven’t. Sorry, faithful readers. All, what, 4 of you? I do appreciate you wanting to see more pics of the kids and hear what’s going on. I’ll throw some stuff together here, and hopefully tide you over until I can have a more organized collection of things to say/share. Deal? Cool. You ready for a whole mess of random? Ok, so Kyle’s Dirty Pirate Face was Random Item #1. Let’s move on to…
Random Item #2
We had some guests in the end of March. These guys showed up in our front yard tree all of a sudden one afternoon and freaked me out but good. The Nelson/Reed kids and I came barreling out of the house (Nelson/Reed kids don’t walk calmly. Ever. They always barrel. It’s what they do.) in order to go get Kyle from school, and I hear Sean yell, “HEY!!!!! WE’VE GOT BEEEEEEEEES!” (What I said about Nelson/Reed kids barreling? Yeah, the same goes for Sean and yelling. Not exaggerating.)
I turn around to see what he’s talking about, and he’s standing
directly.
under.
this.
Yeah, and did I mention he was yelling?
Minor Mommy Panic ensued, but I got the kids out of the area, and the bees evidently didn’t seem to be too bothered by Sean’s less-than-calming-decibel-leveled announcement. After getting Kyle home and all the Nelson/Reed kids safely inside (I successfully begged them not to barrel as we went past the bees this time…), I promptly called our exterminator. He talked me down from my ledge and assured me that what I was describing to him was most likely just a swarm that was stopping to rest during their migration. Instead of opting to have him come out and, well, exterminate them, I went with his suggestion to just give them a wide berth and hope that they’d be gone in a few days. They hung around (HA! Hung around. That’s funny. Oh, come on, it is a little…) for about 4 days in total, the swarm dwindling a bit more each day as more of the critters found their way back on their migration course. It was slightly unnerving to have them here, but it was also kind of cool. Special, even. Out of all the trees and bushes in the neighborhood that they could have stopped to rest, they picked ours.
I’m just glad they didn’t get pissed and send an unsuspecting neighbor into anaphylactic shock. Would NOT have felt so special, then.
Well, that’s it about bees. Before we move on to Random Item #3, though, here’s a final shot to give you some perspective as to the size of the swarm. The branch from which they’re hanging is about 3.5 inches in diameter.
Random Item #3
No pics for this one. Just a story.
My sweet-angel-baby-girl-delicate-feminine-flower goes running down the hall the other day, and I hear her say under her breath as she careens around the corner that she has to go to the bathroom. Ok. Situation normal. But then. I hear…
“AWESOME!!!!!”
“What’s up, Em?”, I inquire.
My sweet-angel-baby-girl-delicate-feminine-flower responds…
“DID YOU HEAR THAT TOOT?????”
Yeah. She was pretty impressed with her flatulent self.
Auntie Heather, would you mind terribly staying with us a while and teaching Emma how to be, I don’t know, a girl?
Her brothers have ruined her. I’m sure of it. The proof is in the tootin’.
Ok, enough about Emma farts and her infatuation with them. Let’s proceed to
Random Item #4
Steve and I drove up to Portland last week, so he could finally have his car for work. Many of you that are family already know that I do not like road trips. If it’s over 2 hours? I need sedation. Not kidding. I get cranky and twitchy and sore and parts of my body that shouldn’t know the sensation of falling asleep routinely do. Road trips do not make me a happy girl.
BUT. Steve needed to make that drive, and my ever-generous MIL suggested she stay with the kids for several days so that I could accompany him and give him some company, hopefully making it a safer journey. While I was Capital-D-Dreading the road trip aspect, the actual arriving in Portland part made it worth it to me, as I haven’t been there hardly at all since Steve has taken up residence and I’m dying to take in this new home of ours as much as possible. So I agreed. Oh. And, of course, because I wanted my husband’s trip to be safe. (I’m not a complete biotch, you know.)
So anyway. Know what I learned about road trips? If you’ve learned to knit, and take along several projects, road trips aren’t so bad! The hours zoom by! And my fingers cramping from prolonged and constant knitting totally distracted me from the fact that I couldn’t feel my ass 2 hours into the journey. Not a bad deal! Why didn’t I learn to knit years and years earlier? We could have traveled the country, seen multitudes of beautiful sights, and I wouldn’t have uttered a single expletive or bitchy comment when the cranky, we’ve-been-in-this-car-for-too-freakin’-long twitches set in. I was suddenly a fan of the road trip! (Or at least a tolerator of them. Baby steps.)
That is, until it got too dark to knit.
OMG.
I knitted until I could knit no more. ‘Til it would have been dangerous to continue on, considering that flailing, pointy-ended metal things in a dark, small, confined area that’s hurtling forward at high rates of speed is generally not a good idea. Ok, fine.
But then I looked up and realized, not only was it too dark to knit, but by default, it was also too dark to see anything outside of the car, as well. Nothing to do. Nothing to look at. Uh oh…
Enter the twitchy bitchies.
As my mood depleted, I vowed not to take it out on my dear husband who was a driving maCHINE and such a good sport about taking the lion’s share of driving hours so that I could be blissfully, knitfully distracted. But since I was abiding by the “if you can’t say anything nice…” rule, my brain went into shut down mode, and I spent the last 2.5-3 (gazillion???) hours of the trip doing some pretty major head drops. I tried like hell to stay alert and be somewhat entertaining for my relentlessly awake (mechanical?) and happy (insane?) pilot, but my attempts were laughable, at best. In the end, my presence on that road trip most likely did absolutely nothing for Steve’s safety. Unless, of course, he managed to stay awake by laughing at the threads of drool coming out the side of my face. That’s a possibility.
You’re welcome, Steve. I’ll drool for you anytime, babe.
Anyway, this has been a reeeeally long story, mainly just so I could show off this cute little number. Now, when I say I’ve learned to knit, it’s true, but I’m a veeeery beginning beginner. I can do a basic washcloth without any mistakes. Many mistakes. Not too many mistakes. But I recently found a pattern for this adorable (and fancy!) dishcloth on a knitters’ website called Ravelry, and I’m proud to say that I finished this sweet little thing without any mistakes. Many. Not too…oh you know what I mean. I did a pretty good job for a newbie. And now I’m all fired up to make, I don’t know…an afghan?
Or maybe another dishcloth.
I heart knitting. Hopefully someday I’ll actually be good at it. A girl can dream.
Random Item #4
Speaking of my driving machine of a husband, I’m very happy to report that he’s flying into town (Phx town, that is…) tonight, and will be with us over the weekend. We’ve all missed him so. And is there any wonder why?
Kind of looks like that creepy guy from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, does he not? Sorry, ladies, he’s all mine.
And that brings me to…
Random Item #5
Please don’t get me wrong. My mom is no way, shape, or form a random item to me. But I can’t post a blog entry today and not mention her. Mom was the best. And I saved the very best for last. Today marks the 2nd anniversary of her car accident. In some ways, it feels like it happened so long ago, and yet there are often times where it seems like it happened only yesterday. Every day, I miss her. I tried not to focus on the sadness of today’s significance, but rather, to spend the day staying busy and laughing and doing good for others. All things at which Mom excelled. I did pretty well without breaking down, that is, until this caught my eye as I whirled through the room. And it stopped me in my tracks.
This painted rock that brought me to tears today was innocuously laying down on a stack of mail that is awaiting Steve’s return to Phx. A paperweight, if you will. But this isn’t any plain ol’ ordinary paperweight rock. It’s THE rock.
(Please pardon my blurry image. I’ve got a shaky hand, and it didn’t help that my hand was a little emotional at the time this picture was taken today. Hopefully, though, you’ll get the idea.)
My mom had such a way of seeing the subtle beauty in everything. And she was incredibly creative, to boot. One of her hobbies was collecting rocks and painting wonderful images on them. She said that when she’d look at a rock long enough, it would just speak to her as to what it should become. This rock, in particular, told her it should become a mountain. With a few little bushes. And itty bitty mountain goats. See the goats?
Blurry goats. Sorry.
For years, Mom had this rock on her desk at work, and every time I went in to see her, I would admire it and threaten to slip it into my purse so that it could come home with me and live where it rightfully belonged. I seriously loved that thing. I mean, how clever was she, to not just cover the rock with some random design, but rather see something that others might not, and let most of the story come from the rock itself? Adding just a smattering of bushes and some nearly microscopic mountain goats to enhance the overall picture? Very clever. Very clever, indeed.
And then a few years ago, Mom surprised me by wrapping up her rock and giving it to me for my birthday. With that sweet message on the bottom.
One of the best. gifts. ever.
My mom was amazing. If you’re reading this and you knew her personally, then you already know that. But if you’re reading this and didn’t have the pleasure of making her acquaintance, please take my word for it. She was one of the truly special people. The world paled a bit on April 10th, 2006. You may not have noticed it, but I sure did. As did anyone who loves her.
Miss you, Mom.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (6)