PNW tour/review of children's museums

This year, we managed to make it to 5 children's museums in the area.  If we had known there was one in Spokane, we would have gone to that one, too.  We'll have to wait until next year to take our Portland trip.  From what I understand, that museum is the bomb.

Hands On Children's Museum- Olympia
Our home base. The boys like it a lot, so much that we have a membership.  Good layout, good variety.  It is currently constructing a newer, bigger space by the water, complete with outdoor exhibits and a sand castle building area.

Drake's happy place: the water table


Children's Museum of Tacoma
It's OK, but not for that price (go on Market Day when admission is free).  Odd layout.  The best part, quite frankly, is the art studio.  [Note: I wrote this before the museum changed the exhibits.  The museum is pretty awesome now.  Totally worth the price of admission.  Can't wait until it moves into its newer, bigger space.]


Massive building blocks

The Children's Museum, Seattle  (In the basement of the Center House)
Lots of space.  Mostly good exhibits. The revolving exhibits are pretty good.  (Drake loved the Curious George tour.  The Clifford tour was nice, too.) One or two exhibits bordered on lame.

In the area for younger kids

KidsQuest- Factoria/Bellevue
Odd location (it's in the Factoria Mall next to the PetsMart).  Strange layout.  Best train table we've seen.  It has some exhibits that differ from the others.



The giant Lite Brite wall (and the drinking fountain)

Port of Play- Astoria, OR
Not so much a children's museum as an old gym.  It's housed in a defunct elementary school.  After driving for three hours, the boys loved running around like crazy people.  (It was pouring buckets outside, so running around like crazy people outside was not an option.)  Variety of activities.  The stage area housed the museum portion.  Only $3 to get in.  $3!!!  We can't gain admission anywhere for $3.


Bikes, cars, scooters, a bouncy house, etc.

The beauty of having a membership to any of these museums is you get a discount at all of the other museums in Washington and Oregon.  (Sorry, that is misleading.  You won't get the discounts with a basic membership.  With an upgrade, you get a discount.)

Grow a pair

I have two friends who have gone through particularly nasty divorces.  The marriages have been legally dissolved for some time, but the sh*tstorm keeps swirling around daily.  In both cases, the ex-husbands are manipulative control freaks who attempt to continuously manipulate the person who left.  One is using blackmail; the other is using the legal system (takes her to court, like, every other week, over baseless accusations).  In both cases, the males claim they are doing what is best for the children.  Making sure the mother of their children has no money is not doing what is best for your children.  These men continue to throw temper tantrums and act like spoiled brats.  Gentlemen (and I use the term very loosely), it's time to man up and grow a pair.  If you really want to do what is best for your sons, then let it go and move on with your lives.  Put your big pants on and show your sons what a real man looks like, because right now, it isn't you.

No one is ever fully innocent when a marriage fails.  But, for the friends who still support these "men", you need to take a step back and assess the situation.  If he were as innocent as he claims, why does he keep trying to sue her?  Why has he enlisted your help in blackmailing her?  If he were truly an innocent victim in all of this, he would have been sad, had too much to drink, burn a picture or two, then go hug his son(s) and tell them that daddy loves them and it isn't their fault.  The truly innocent to not engage in such despicable behavior.  And neither should you.

Admit it-- you're jealous

At lunchtime to Flynn: Your sandwich is not a monster truck jump.

At snack time: Your cookie is not a monster truck jump.  See, I was too specific at lunchtime in regards to what does or does not constitute a monster truck jump, thus creating endless potential for all remaining foodstuffs to become said jump.

But the kicker for the day:  Flynn, Mommy is not your personal Kleenex.  Please go get a tissue from the box.

*sigh*

Dear Grocery Store Chains

While I appreciate your efforts to both protect the environment and save money, reducing the thickness of the plastic bags (which causes them to tear whenever they come in contact with a right angle) does nothing to remind me to bring the bazillion reusable bags currently residing in my house to the store.  They sit in the laundry room.  That's where they go when emptied.  Maybe consider bringing back paper bags?  Those at least hold more than one can of soup.  Thanks ever so much.

One Jacked Tradition

This time of year is filled with a myriad of traditions, whether it be lighting some candles, gathering around a pole, or singing off key and eating too much.  I, personally, am looking forward to the re-institution of a favorite tradition on the 25th: a big meal at Jack in the Box.

Yes.  Jack in the Box.

My family celebrates on Christmas Eve.  Growing up, we always had a fancy dinner, usually some dish we never ate at any other time of year.  Prime rib was a favorite. Cornish game hens.  I have a vague recollection of a goose at one point.  We never had a turducken, but I'm sure if it existed when I was a kid, we would have had it.  We would then go to mass.  Santa visited our house when we were at church.  I thought it was rather kind of the fat man to put us ahead of the non-church-going folk.  After mass, we opened presents while listening to a Perry Como Christmas album.  On Christmas Day, we slept in and ate cinnamon rolls.  The day was really low key.  Sometimes we went to the movies, but mostly we basked in the post-holiday glow.  Good times.

And then I met Tim.

Tim's family celebrates on Christmas Day.  For our first Christmas together, we ate dinner at my parents' house on Christmas Eve.  I spent Christmas Day at his place.  About midday, he called his folks.  I remember him talking for a long, long time.  (At this time, Tim's parents and his siblings, minus one or two, lived in Spokane.)  The phone was passed around and around.  After the chat fest, we were hungry, and there was never any food in the house, thanks to a mooching roommate.  One block from his house was a Jack in the Box.  So, we went.

[Tangent about Christmas-- The next Christmas, we spent it with Tim's family in Spokane.  It was to be the last Christmas for Tim's mother.  Leading up to the trip, Tim would quiz me on names of all the siblings.  (He is six of seven.)  I needed flowcharts to keep up with all of the information.  I met everyone on Christmas.  I mean EVERYONE.  Holy chaos!  I didn't know a one bedroom house could hold that many people.] 

When you don't have kids and your family is a bunch of CE people, what is there to do on CD?  You have to eat, right?  We always lived near a Jack in the Box, for some reason.  And, it is open on CD.  Thanksgiving is an American holiday, so most establishments are closed.  Christmas is a religious holiday in nature, so some places accommodate non-Christians.  The funniest part of eating at JITB on CD is the evangelizers who give me literature about Jesus.  Apparently, if you are dining in JITB on CD, you are a heathen.  That cracks me up every time.  Tim and I ate at JITB on CD for years.

Since we moved to Tacoma, our pattern has been to have festivities with my father's family on CE and my mother's family on CD.  Well, 2010 was a b!tch of a year and can suck it. Because of this, nothing will be taking place on CD.  As much as I enjoy the prime rib at Darlene's house, I am totally fine not having any obligations that day.  And, guess what is three doors down?  JITB.  Sweet!

So, whatever your traditions, long-standing or new, enjoy them with loved ones, related or not.  I raise my glass to welcome 2011.

Conversations with the boys

Drake is really coming into his own, personality and language wise. He gets really upset if I laugh at something he has said. (Pre-schoolers shouldn’t be self-conscious about anything. Chalk another on up to genetics!) So, I decided to start writing this stuff down. Plus, this will give me a big chuckle later in life when he is telling me he hates me.


D: Mommy, can I watch Monster Trucks?
Me: Sure, honey.
D: I need some sweet freestyle action!

D: Mommy, can you tell me about car insurance?

D: (on “phone”) Hello? Yes, this is Drake. I’m just watching Monster Trucks with Mommy and Flynn. Oh, I have to go now. It’s getting exciting. Ok, Bye. (hangs up phone)  That was my friend, Grandma

D: Oh, my phone is ringing. It’s Grandma and Grandpa.


Flynn refuses to be outdone by his big brother.  The words are flowing fast and furiously lately, and I am actually able to decipher what he is saying.  My favorite new word is "Meese": a hybrid of "more" and "please".  The words used most frequently are bonk, mess, and crash.  (Guess what we do in this house?)

-----
Added 2/22/11

D: Mommy, I'm too little to drive your car by myself.

D:  (laughing)  My penis is so silly!

F now sings his rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".  It's so stinkin' cute!  I hope to catch it on video.

ODing on RfML

I've had a bit of free time ever since the end of NaNoWriMo and the quarter.  Instead of vegging out in front of the TV or playing Bejeweled Blitz, I have been reading blogs, most notably Rants from Mommyland.  Tim scratches his head and wonders why I am cackling like a hyena while alone.   Two moms (who go by the monikers Kate and Lydia) unexpectedly because friends and created the blog to help each other cope with motherhood and cleaning up other people's fecal matter.  They have been writing for over a year, and I am completely caught up with all posts.  In my twisted brain, I am BFFs with both ladies and invite them over for drinks. 

Reading the blog has been therapeutic, eye-opening, and a boost.  I have learned so much.  1) Although I feel like it most days, I am not a horrible mother.  2)  Making friends at this age is difficult for most people, not just my socially-retarded self.  3)  Armed with a sense of humor and a (moderately) decent night's sleep makes this time so much easier to handle.

I would very much like to find a Kate to my Lydia.  Oh, wait.  I have, but she lives in Phoenix and I don't anymore.  Damn. 

Just call me “Grace”

I never thought I would be thankful for the wild, wet, Washington winter weather.  (Whew!)  Here’s why.  Yesterday, I dropped a folding chair on my foot.  Nothing is broken, but it still hurt like a m-fer and is turning beautiful shades of blue and purple and swelling.  The only shoes that I can fit into and don’t cause anymore pain are my wellies.  (As Flynn is modeling here:)

Mommy's little fashion victim plate

Wellies are only acceptable if it is pouring outside or if your job requires you to step in squishy stuff, this necessitating the need for such footwear. Otherwise, you are just a fashion don’t. I am already in this category, and I don’t need anything else to drag me down further.

I still need to run some errands today and pick up the boys. Oh, crap. The sun is coming out. Curse you, nature!

Hello, Ladies!

Two little girls are now attending Miss Tracy's with the boys.  D and F have been stuck there together since September.  The other boy who was there with D moved on to kindergarten, leaving D alone with his brother.  This should be very interesting.  One girl is D's age; the other is not quite 1, but is crawling up a storm.

When we arrived this morning, the wee one was near the door.  F was all smiles.  He immediately began gathering up some toys to give to the girls.  He is already trying to win their affections through shiny objects.



This is for you.  Let's be friends!



End of Quarter

The boys are sleeping in for once, and I thought I would get a jump start on grading the final essay that was due yesterday.  I log in to the school site, and ALL OF MY CLASSES ARE GONE!  Holy sh!t!  Panic sets in as I whisper a string of obscenities. (I don't want to wake the little dudes, or teach them any new vocabulary words.)  I fire off a panic-y e-mail to tech support.  Within two minutes, all of my classes are restored.  Andy Duckworth is the greatest tech support guru ever!!!!

Now that I have access again to my courses, I have an e-mail waiting for me from a student.  She is concerned because she received a D on her first essay and has a really good excuse why it is late.  My late policy is very simple:  full points for on time; 75% max for anything up to a week late; 0 after that.  It's not that I don't care about my students; it's... no wait, I don't care.  It's none of my business what happens outside of the class.  Life gets in the way, and unless it involves me phoning the police on your behalf, it's your private life.  Anyway, back to Beggy McBegsalot.  I took a look at her overall grade.  She is missing 33 points for the entire quarter.  Unless she completely f***s up this last essay, she will be getting an A.  An A is an A. Whether it is 94% or 100%, it shows up the transcript the same.  Stop nickling and diming me, people.

And those are my rambling, incoherent thoughts at the end of the quarter.  Hooray for Winter Break!

The Santa Experience

We have not had much luck in the "visit with Santa" department.  I was hoping this year would be better.  We went early yesterday, to beat the crowds.  Only three other kids were in line ahead of us.  (All of them were waiting patiently, as my boys were running around, screaming like banshees.)  The two girls who worked there were not every interested in getting things going.  The velvet ropes are fine; my kid is losing his mind.  Let's get a move on!

Finally, it was our turn.  D hung back a bit, but F ran right up to Santa and gave him a big hug.  He sat on Santa's lap and was quite content.  D finally joined the party.  Within those 15 seconds, F went from happy kid to "what am I doing here, who are you" fear and panic.  And then the tears started.  This was the best we could do.

I am quite proud of Drake.  He wasn't greedy talking to Santa.  In fact, I don't believe he mentioned at all what he wanted.  (He told me the night before: slippers.  They arrived in the mail today.)  He talked to Santa about how we dress up on Christmas, which is, according to D, tomorrow.

A word about the racket that is the photo with Santa.  I do not need the 18 wallet sized photos along with the flashing photo frame and key chain.  I just want a simple picture.  ($25, BTW)  Remember when all we got was a simple Polaroid?  That's all I really want.  Plus, you are not allowed to use your own camera anywhere near the magic chair.  I am in the wrong business.

Grief is a sneaky bastard

I had a dentist appointment today.  (I know, really exciting stuff!)  Anyway, the dentist's office is a couple of blocks from my Grandma Maria's house.  Let me amend that-- a couple of blocks from the house where Maria lived.  It's no longer her house; the house closed on Monday and now belongs to someone else.

Driving to said appointment, I found myself purposely going a different route so I wouldn't have to drive by the house.  Intellectually, this is silly and I feel a tad foolish.  It's just a house; she isn't there anymore.  But emotionally... emotionally, I wasn't ready for it.  So many memories are locked up in that house.

This will be our first Christmas without her.  She always loved this time of year: all of the baking, the buying of too many presents, the overabundance of tape to be sure the box was closed under the wrapping paper.  (Seriously, one year she used duct tape to guarantee the box would remain sealed.) 

You think you are doing fine and are healing from the loss.  And then something stupid and trivial, like the driving route to an appointment, will set you off again.  Bloody hell.

Christmas traditions

I'm a pretty low-key person when it comes to celebrating stuff (birthdays, holidays, and the like).  I believe this stems from my inherent laziness.  There is one tradition, however, that I was sad to lose for myself but am happy to pass on to my children: the German advent calendar.  This is no ordinary countdown to Christmas with a lame picture behind every door.  It's a piece of chocolate!  One for every day until the holiday.  It's a very German thing: you may have a treat, but in an overly disciplined, structured sort of way. (As kids, my brother and I figured out how to get all of the chocolate out at once without opening all the doors.) The rule in the family is you may have your own calendar every year, until you have children, then they get the calendar. 

The boys LOVE it.  Flynn threw a massive hissy fit today (including rolling on the floor, screaming, and refusing to eat his breakfast) because he only got one piece of chocolate.  Drake is showing signs of restraint this year; he was only mildly annoyed for only getting one piece of chocolate.



Oh sweet structured goodness!



DonorsChoose.org

I normally don't promote any type of charity.  I feel this is a personal decision.  But, lately, I have been getting really annoyed by most charities.  I believe the majority of the planet is "aware" of breast cancer; how about we try to cure it?  I'm just saying.  Also, most of us have no idea if the money goes to actually help a person in need.  Some charities have administrative costs of 75%.  Holy cow!  Is the charity helping people or itself?  See my frustration.

I didn't know about this charity until I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity (Seattle satellite).  The organizers raised funds to hold the rally, and let all of us know that any extra money would be donated to Donors Choose.  It piqued my interest, so I went to the site and checked it out.  Awesome.  The charity is designed to get specific materials into specific classroom.  Teachers post their classroom needs to this site, explaining how the materials will be used.  The complete cost of the project is given (and verified) included product cost, shipping, tax, and an optional(!) 15% contribution for administrative costs.  Those wishing to make a donation can search by city, content area, or immediate need. 

I decided to do a search by Washington and Language Arts (together).  I found a teacher who wanted to purchase green pens for her fourth grade class to help teach them the process and importance of editing and revising.  (Awesome!)  Her classroom is in Seattle in a high poverty area (info provided on Donors Choose).  I wasn't able to give much, but I gave.  Her project ended up being completely funded, and afterwards, I received a very nice thank you note.

It is sad that teachers are not given the resources that would be the most effective in the classroom.  (That is another rant for another day.)  But, here is an opportunity for teachers to ask for what they need and for us to give it to them, without bureaucracy (tax deductible, of course).

Where Monster Trucks go to die

On any given day, a Monster Jam Freestyle event is taking place in my living room.  Sadly, the designers of these toys did not anticipate small children playing with said toys.  (Really, you couldn't have tested those out with live preschoolers?)  These trucks have made some spectacular air (as D says), but at a small cost.

This is Shattered.  It has problems with its axles.  It has been to the garage many times for both front and rear axles.

This is Grave Digger.  It is no longer a monster truck, but a dune buggy.

El Toro Loco has lost a horn.  Why do I keep thinking of a Bugs Bunny cartoon?

Careful, Monster Mutt, or you'll be next!

NaNoWriMo reflection

Holy cow, I did it!  I finished something that I started.  Whew!  And now, as I keep stressing to my students, a little reflection about the past month.

It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.  No, I am not smoking crack.  Really, writing a novel in a month wasn't that difficult.  Some caveats to the above statement. 
1- Writing is a whole lot easier to write when you are fairly certain no one on the planet is ever going to read it.  This draft will never see the light of day.  Eventually, you will see the highly polished, revised version, not in its current state of "steaming pile". 
2- This would have been easier had I had a plot in mind (and characters and a direction and a setting).  The first couple of days can be tossed out the window.  I didn't figure out my plot until halfway through.  Oh, and write down the names of your characters once they have one. 
3- Falling behind is a really bad idea.  Sure, I have proven that I am capable of producing 10,000 words in a weekend, but I cannot sustain that pace.  I could barely scrounge the mental capacity to write the last thousand words.  Along this same vein, no matter how good your intentions, you will not get any writing done on Thanksgiving or after date night, book club, or MNO.
4- When aiming strictly for a word count goal, contractions are not your friend.  I added 700 words to the count by converting 75% of the "n't"s to "not".  I added 200 more by eliminating "'m".
5- My vocabulary has gone to sh!t.  I used to be able to use verisimilitude and fait accompli correctly in a sentence.  I believe I used "just" and "even" most frequently.
6- Life continues to progress while I am typing furiously.  The house is a mess.  I don't want to talk about the laundry monster.  The wind and snow storms and power outages and fallen fences didn't help productivity.
7- Leave the house to be really productive.  Starbucks does wonders for my creativity, either as a solo effort or as part of a write-in.  [Editor's note- Could I get Starbucks to sponsor me?  Really.  As often as I go there and mention it in this blog favorably, a gift card here and there would be awesome.  Thanks so much.]
8- Excuses are really easy to make, but they don't put words on the page.  Maybe I should apply that to the rest of my life.  Think of what I could accomplish by not playing Bejeweled Blitz.
9- Do not assign your students anything major during the month of November.  That really sucked.
10- When writing an emotional scene, don't do it in public.  I got many odd looks while I was blubbering in the corner.

This was an awesome challenge, and I look forward to doing it again next year.  The local NaNoWriMo affiliate has write-ins year round.  I will indeed attend some of those.  And now, to get some exercise.  I've been sitting on my behind for the last month, and it is starting to grow.  Time to get moving again.

Oh, the things we do!

I am constantly amazed at all of the wonderful, strange, and sometimes gross things we do as parents for our children.  I was thinking this as I was outside this morning, before anyone else was awake, spreading kitty litter on the snowy, icy brick.  It was/is a balmy 17 degrees out there.  I didn't want a repeat of yesterday: lots of slipping and falling hard in little knees.  So, I raise my glass to all of your parents out there.  (Sure, my glass is currently filled with Carnation Instant Breakfast instead of booze.)  Here's to ya!

Dear Close Friends

As you know, I am participating in NaNoWriMo.  This year's efforts are strictly to finish the damn thing.  Since the style I am writing in is Mainstream Fiction, I am pulling lots of inspiration from real life.  I am writing in the real world, and no zombies, vampires, or magic spells are included.  That being said, and knowing that this novel will (most likely) never see the light of day, I wanted to let you know that you are, um, in it.  Should this ever be made public (and the chances of that are supremely slim), please don't be offended if you do or do not find yourself in the confines of this work.  None of you die horrible, unnatural deaths (unless you piss me off before the end of November).  I wanted to give you fair warning.  Please don't be shocked.  Please do not be surprised also if I call out of the blue between November 24-29.  I may be fishing for more plot devices.

Thank you.

A Funny Meltdown

Drake was very upset with me because we had to go back to the Bouncy Houses to retrieve my phone, but we weren't going to be staying.  On the way out the door, he loses his stuff, rolling on the floor.

D:  It's raining!  WHY is it RAINING?
Me:  Because that's what the weather is today.
D:  But I don't want it to be raining.  I want it to be warm.
Me:  Drake, we live in Washington.
D:  Waaahhhhhh!
Me:  Well, when you get older, you can move to someplace more tropical.
D: *sniff*  OK.

Missing: One Brain, Slightly Used

We came home from the Bouncy Houses today, and my phone was not with us.  It was gone.  I search the car and my purse.  "Mommy, it's at the Bouncy Houses."  I can't call them because I only have a cell phone.  We don't have a land line.  I check my coat and my purse again.  "Mommy, it's at the Bouncy Houses."  I feed the boys and check the car again.  Drake is trying tell me something,  "Not right now Drake.  Mommy is looking for her phone."  Mommy, your phone is at the Bouncy Houses."  I put the boys down for Quiet Time.  I e-mail Tim to have him call the Bouncy Houses.  I wait and wait for a response.  After what seems like forever, I get a response that yes, indeed, my phone is at the Bouncy Houses.  I spend the rest of Quiet Time reading Rants from Mommyland and playing Bejeweled Blitz.  (Can't concentrate to actually do work or write.)  After QT, I asked Drake, "Did you see Mommy's phone fall out of her pocket at the Bouncy Houses?"  "Yes."  I have now informed him to TELL me the next time he sees this happen.

I lost my mind when I had a second child.  I used to have a great memory, but that's all gone now.  Shortly after the Wee One was born, I forgot to strap D in his car seat.  The first time, we didn't get very far.  The second time, we drove for 20 minutes.  I never forgot this before.  I told him that from now on, if I forget, to tell me.  He's only had to remind me a couple of times, but he always reminds me. 

Distracted

Yesterday was the halfway mark in NaNoWriMo, and I am parked at 24,000 words.  I've been battling a wicked cold and the drugs just aren't doing it for me.  Last night I figured I would go to bed and have a fresh start today.  I'd would take the boys to Miss Tracy's, then clean the carpets, then write.  I'd stop around lunch, watch some TV, grade, then back to writing.  (I have learned two things in this process: once you get behind, catching up is a giant pain; and I have a production cap of 3300 words per day.)  And then wind picked up.  Boy, did it ever.  Lots of crashing on the roof and lights flickering.  The damage didn't look too bad at night, but in the light of day...

On the bright side: I no longer have to rake the leaves in the front yard, as they are now all in someone else's yard two miles away. 

On the down side: I was hoping the fence would last two more seasons before replacing it.  Nature had other plans.

I'm no expert, but this doesn't look right.  Thank goodness the maple tress are holding up the fence.

Tim texted me to go check out Mildred (the street behind our house, not some old lady in a bathrobe, pervs).  Branches were everywhere.  I was out there in my jammies and raincoat dragging debris out of the road.  Got some weird looks.  I came back in, threw on some clothes, and got the boys ready to go.  I have no idea if their ensembles match today.  I know I took two Sudafed out of the blister pack, but I don't know if I ever took them.  I don't know where to begin today.  That's why I'm writing this: to calm down and organize my disorganized, distracted brain.  Oh, look, something shiny...

And Now Presenting: Jane Austen on Facebook | English Muse

And Now Presenting: Jane Austen on Facebook English Muse

That's some funny stuff right there (assuming, of course, you are an Austen fan).

Antici...

D: Mommy, is it warm or cold outside?
Me:  Oh, it's really cold outside.
D: When it gets warm outside, Cars 2 is coming out!

Oh, geez.  Today is day two of the Cars 2 countdown.  It opens next summer.  He isn't this excited about Christmas (next month) or his birthday (February).  But, a movie...  yeah...

Frick and Frack

As much as I complain about my boys, I do love them very much.  This may just be the cold medicine talking or the lack of sleep, but I thought I would take a moment to celebrate the dudes.

What I love about D:
-he embraces the silly
-when he gets into something, he really gets into it.  (Current obsession interest: Monster trucks.  Mommy, I'm putting on a show for you.  Look at that air!  Look at that slap wheelie!)
-there isn't a fruit he has met that he doesn't like
-he randomly tells me that he loves me
-he's crazy smart

What I love about F:
-he doesn't know he's 1
-he has no fear
-he'll go off alone and amuses himself
-he spins in circles for no reason
-he meows at cats and says hi to all critters, especially ladybugs, caterpillars, and baby slugs

What I love about them both:
-they can eat their own weight in sausage
-they aren't afraid to try new food
-how they eat McDonald's ice cream cones (F- super fast; D-super slow)
-the way they laugh at Jumpy Squirrel on Curious George
-how they are amused by watching birds eat at our bird feeder
-how they will randomly plop in your lap
-how excited they become when they spot a bus/train/airplane/ferry boat
-they want to help cook and (sometimes) clean
-their big cheesy grins
-how they are entertained for days by an empty box

A sleepless haiku

Sleep, you coy mistress
With your mysterious ways
Alluding me so

Oh, return to me
So I do not lose my mind
And snap at my boys

Oh sweet Sudafed
Work your gloriousness, that
I may breathe again

New Product Idea

Lysol needs to create a disinfectant bomb.  It's akin to a flea bomb, only instead of killing fleas, it kills germs.  Perfect to use when everyone is sick.  I could really use one right now.  So many sick germs. :P

Dear Makers of NyQuil

Did you change the formula?  I remember, back in the day, that I could take a shot of NyQuil and wake up a bit groggy and hungover.  But it was a great feeling because I had slept.  Now, I am feeling just groggy because I haven't slept.  It is very difficult to sleep when one nostril is dripping.  (The right, BTW.)  Could you please change the formula back to its originial state?  You could rebrand it as NyQuil Classic™.  It worked for Coca-Cola.

Appreciation

I feel that I frittered away my childless years, selfishly pissing away moments I should have appreciated.  Here is a partial list:

1.  Eight+ hours of uninterrupted sleep
2.  Leisurely trips to the grocery store/mall/tourist destinations
3.  Reading a book in the middle of the day
4.  Doing laundry once a week
5.  Eating at restaurants with real silverware
6.  Spare time
7.  Quiet rides in the car
8.  Stainless shirts
9.  Alone time that doesn't involve a bathroom
10. Short term memory

All hail, the Magic Lunch God

My boys love Top Ramen.  Love it, love it, love it.  They would marry it if it were legal in this state.  (I'm sure it must be legal in some state.  Send a list, if you have one.)  I asked D, "Would you like Ramen for lunch today?"  "OH, YES!" was the response and he ran to his place at the dining room table.  I hadn't started boiling the water yet, but that's where he wanted to wait.  Okey dokey.

So, I guess I am raising two fraternity brothers.  Between their penchant for Top Ramen and preferring to roam the house wearing only underwear, I'm pretty sure that I am.  I was never in a fraternity, mostly because I am a girl, but I watch a lot of movies.  And if you can't trust a fictional movie for information, who can you trust?

Viva la Resistance!

When I went to sleep, the land known as Parentaville was calm and quiet.  The humble monarchy slept easy, knowing the kingdom was safe, and it ruled in a benevolent manner, fair and loving.  I awoke in Drakesylvania.  During the night in a bloodless coup, the diminutive dictator overthrew the monarchy, and tyranny swept the 1100 square foot land.  None were exempt from the oppressive power of the Neo-Mussolini.  A small band of resistance fighters are working to restore the monarchy.  The dictator's second in command, the Minister of Chaos, can be bribed with cheese and baked goods; this powerful ally will be essential to return the land to its former prosperity.  Hopefully, this will come to a peaceful resolution swiftly.

Day 1- NaNoWriMo

Day 1 has been going well.  Note the use of past tense.  I was writing along at a good clip.  I wrote this morning before the boys woke.  I wrote during nap/quiet time.  I was doing great.  I'm almost to the suggested daily word count (1145/1667).  And then it happened.  I realized that the story in my head, the story that's been trapped in there for SIX years, is almost complete.  Shit.  I've completed 2% of the final product and the story is almost told out.  It won't even qualify as a short story; it's flash fiction.  No matter how you define it, I'll be way, way short of the 50,000 word count.  Now what?  Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn!

Note to self:

When attending an outdoor event in Seattle, if there is even the tiniest chance of rain, wear waterproof shoes.  Vans are not appropriate as rainy day shoes.  And don't leave your Gore-tex jacket in the car.

Dear Politicians and Groups Trying to Gain My Vote

Stop it.  Stop it.  Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it. Stop it.

Stop it.

Your negative ads are not only a logical fallacy but they are making my ears bleed.  You killed too many trees while clogging my mail box telling me to think of the children.  Stop it.

Stop!

Intent, part 2

The more I write for this blog, the more blogs I read out there in the blogosphere.  (Somewhere, there are the Ghosts of Professors Past doing their best Mr. Burns' impressions.  Excellent!)  And, gracious, there is a crapton of blogs out there.  I guess everyone with a computer is a writer.  (Reminds me of a Family Guy quote: Every hot girl who can aim a camera thinks she's a photographer.)  I'm not belittling any one's contribution to the blogosphere nor am I being a writing snob.  Here's what I've noticed.

1.  The majority of blogs have a specific focus.  Mommy blogs, daddy blogs, fashion blogs, rage blogs, and so on and so on.  (I claim in my info that I will not be pigeonholed into one blogging category.  I just like to ramble about anything.)  And, the reason these blogs have a specific focus is to do the next item.

2.  The majority of blogs want/try to build a fan base.  Please repost this to your awkward social network.  You like me, you really like me.  And so on and so on.  The reason these blogs have a fan base is to do the next item.

3.  The majority of blogs are trying to make money.  Maybe I'm just naive, but this one surprised me. I've had to wade through so many advertising side bars and pitches for my latest book and come here me lecture at the College of Kalamazoo.  Blogging in and of itself is a job?  Really??  I can understand if one works for a publication to have a blog make money.  I can also understand if a famous person starts a blog after the celebrity is established.  (I believe that is why I follow Steve Martin on Twitter.  He's that damn funny.)  But, gaining popularity/celebrity BECAUSE you have a blog seems backwards to me.  It's like being famous for being famous (I'm looking at your Ms. Hilton).  Then again, I do love The Oatmeal.  I guess it's all about intent.  If you want to make money in your pajamas, you can do it.  Just send me $49.95 and I'll send you my instructional DVD.

Speaking of intent, I would like to address the people who leave comments on these bazillion blogs out there.  Stop promoting your own blog in the comments (it's like spamming).  And stop trolling.  Have you nothing better to do with your time than correct other people's mistakes?  If you really get your ya-yas by trashing the grammar of others, then become an English teacher.  (I know you really do it to make yourself feel powerful and mightier.  Having low self-esteem can be so socially crippling.)

An Experiment

I'm writing this from my Kindle. How freaking awesome is that! It's a little awkward to type a whole lot. Now I don't need to get a smartphone. Let's be honest; I really just wanted a smartphone to play Angry Birds. Take that, overpriced data plans!

Curse you, Madison Avenue

I am grateful that the shows the boys enjoy watching are on PBS.  No freaking commercials.  When they do watch a show on the networks, I'm starting to hear, "Mommy, we need to go get that!"  Ugh!  But, sadly, it isn't just the commercials anymore that influence Drake's brain.  Here are a few examples:

D: Mommy, we need to go buy M&Ms at Albertson's.
Whaaaa...?  I get the candy part, but Albertson's?  What the heck?  We were watching the NASCAR race, and sure enough, on the #18 M&Ms car was a teeny tiny sticker for Albertson's.  Wow, is he ever paying attention.

The boys were watching Curious George.  Popcorn is featured prominently in one episode.  I turned the TV off after the show for dinner time and I hear, "Mommy, we need to get some popcorn."  He threw quite a fit when I told him we can't have popcorn for dinner.  (When I was in college, sure, popcorn for dinner was fair game.)

Yesterday's CG episode was "Juicy George."  The monkey gets a hold of a juicer.  Chaos ensues.  The resulting juice is quite tasty.  I turned the TV off.
D:  Mommy, we need to juice something.
Me:  We don't have a juicer, honey.
D: Oh, OK, let's go buy a juicer RIGHT NOW.
Me: No, Drake, we are not going to buy a juicer.
D:  WAAAAAHHHHH!
Me:  We do have a blender.
D: *pause in hissy fit*  What do blenders do?
Me: They blend things.  Should we go to the store tomorrow and buy some fruit to make juice in the blender?
D:  Oh!  Let's go RIGHT NOW.
Me:  It's dinner time.  We'll go to the store tomorrow.
D:  WAAAAAAHHHHHH!
We did go to the store today to buy juice-making ingredients.  Drake picked them out.  Here is the recipe:
               1 mango
               2 black plums
               1 lemon
               1 1/2 cup 7-up
               Remove skin from fruit and chop into little bits.  Put little bits in blender with liquid.  Blend.
The result didn't completely suck.  Drake wasn't a huge fan of our recipe.  He decided we are going to try again on Sunday afternoon.  (I think we went horribly wrong with the lemon.)  More importantly, we had a really good time with the process, even if the result was less than tasty.

My/Not My Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

Not my Drake

My Drake

So not my Drake

Chicken wings

It's no secret that I have very little upper body strength.  As a kid, it was a source of ridicule from my family.  I was shaky carrying the gallon of milk to the dinner table.  I never could climb the rope in gym class.  Tim makes a clucking sound whenever I bring him a bottle/jar that I cannot open.  I've tried most of the jar opening devices to no avail (they all really, really suck).  Then, this past Father's Day, my jar-opening savior arrived in an unexpected place.  While in the Craftsman department of Sears, Drake picked out an unusual tool to give Tim for the holiday: a strap wrench.  Let's just say that it never found it's way into the man cave/workshop.  It works!  I don't know if it was intended for use in the kitchen, but it's never leaving the room now.  Tim knows where to find it, should he need it.

Where have you been all my life?

Express yourself

The boys have become quite entertaining with how they express themselves. 

We have the large generic pack of Hot Wheels track.  It comes with a set of instructions.  Flynn picked up the instructions, put his other hand on his chin, and said, "Hmmmmmm..."

Drake's wacky sense of humor really comes through when singing his ABCs.  He's either shouting them or purposely mixing up the letters.  "E, f, r.  E, f, r?  That's silly.  I'm just cracking you up, Mommy."  Or, while at Albertson's (note, there is a large sign over the entrance for chicken):  "X! Y! Z! NOW YOU KNOW MY ABCS! SING WITH ME! 4.99!"

Cooperation?

For the past couple months, I have been trying to get a decent picture of the boys together for Tim's "Daddy" frame at the office.  The pictures usually end up like this:

Lots of screaming and carrying on.
Or like this:

Finally, I gave up and managed to snap this gem.

This was the best I could do.  They are sitting next to each other without screaming or hitting or throwing.  Why are they so calm and accomodating?  Food.  What else?

Mommy needs a time-out

Yes, I am hiding from my children.  Both are rolling on the floor in the living room, wailing and screaming.  Why?  Did I take away a beloved toy?  Did I deprive them of Curious George?  Did I make them drink Castor oil after scrubbing the floors?  Nope.

They are both throwing fits over the vacuum.

You read that correctly.

Flynn is having a fit because he wants to use the hose to suck up lint, Cheerios, and assorted blankets.  Drake is having a fit because he wants to lie in front of it.  The hot air blowing from the vacuum is keeping him warm.  Never mind that he's wearing only his underwear.  And it's 40 outside.  Nope.  I'm the bad mommy for turning off the small appliance.

Dear Parents' Television Council

Why are you people letting your small children read GQ before it has hit the newsstands?  Are you some kind of weirdo sickoes?  So a few Glee cast members are posing provocatively.  It isn't any more than some of the advertisements found in Cosmo or Vogue.  (I'm assuming that since you let your small children read GQ that these other titles are also fair game.)  And, for the record, what they are doing isn't pedophilia; it's the classic school girl fantasy.  Are you now going to visit every Castle Boutique and burn all the sexy school girl costumes (and sexy pirate and sexy nurse and sexy Alice in Wonderland)?

Getting Approved?

I've been joining Meetup groups, in the interest of meeting new people and finding friends for both the boys and I.  I recently submitted a request to join a group (it was actually an application!) and this is the response I received. 


Subject: Getting Approved

Kristi,


Thank you for your interest in the ___________ meetup group. For the safety and security of our current members and their families, we now ask that you attend one public hosted event and meet one of our AO's before being accepted into this group. We have listed 3 options for the month below. Please respond with a date that might work for you, so we can look for you. This allows us to meet you and you to meet us and ask an questions regarding the group. We are very excited to meet you. If you have any problems adding your photo, please let us know.


What the hell?  This isn't Rush Week.  Are there many SAHMs who compromise safety?  After reading this, I've decided it just isn't worth it.  If I have to endure this much hassle to join a group, the process to be allowed to stay will be ridiculous.  I'm doing a preemptive break up.  It's not me; it's you.

Intent

I realize that I come across as whiny, desperate, and pathetic in this blog.  And, oddly, I'm fine with that. I'd much rather come across that way there than face to face, causing people to run away screaming. This process has become rather cathartic for me.  I made the conscious decision to overcome my isolation.  Part of that is to slay my personal demons (of which there are many).  I didn't start this blog to become a "Blog of Note" or to even gather a base of followers.  I chose to not focus on one particular category, mostly because the thoughts in my brain are varied.  I guess it's all about intent.

So what about the bloggers who do focus on one particular area?  What is the intent?  Is it his/her own way of reducing his/her own isolation, by creating a "community" of others in the same situation?  To let others (and therefore, themselves) know they are not alone in the chaos known as life?  One blog I have been reading lately (which I am not going to name) keeps asking, rather shamelessly, to share his blog with others.  "Please repost on FB, Twitter..."  That, to me, comes across as someone who is desperate to be liked and accepted.  That's going too far.  If you are good at what you do, the sharing will come naturally.  Don't beg.  You are not a dog.

Coming to terms with one's insecurities is very personal, and I am airing mine here.  (It's my blog; I'll write what I want, dammit.)  When I first started using FB, my intent was rooted in my insecurities.  I wanted to gather many "friends" to remind myself that I know people, that people know me, that people wanted to know me, that I wasn't so isolated.  Quickly, I degenerated into my high school self-- the terribly awkward one that counted how many people had signed her yearbook.  (Yes, I did that.  Did more people sign this year than last year?)  I was feeling wounded because more "friends" weren't following my blog.  Then I snapped out of it and returned to this idea of intent.  Why am I on FB?  Why do I write?  When we understand why we do something, we can see the action for all its silliness.  So, why do I do all of this?  To get over myself.  If others read it or don't read it, it doesn't matter.  It shouldn't matter.  It's not like I'm trying to secure a book deal (like some other unnamed bloggers out there are doing).

BBC Booklist

BBC Booklist (Also a transfer from FB)

Apparently the BBC reckons most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here.

Instructions:

1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.

2) Add a '+' to the ones you LOVE.

3) Star (*) those you plan on reading.

4) Tally your total at the bottom.



How many have you read?



1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen x +

2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien *

3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte x

4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling x

5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee X

6 The Bible

7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte x

8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell x

9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman

10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott *

12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy

13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller x

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare x

15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier

16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien X

17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks

18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger X +

19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger

20 Middlemarch - George Eliot

21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell x

22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald X

23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens

24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams x +

26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh

27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky x

28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck x

29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll x+

30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

33 Chronicles of Narnia x

34 Emma - Jane Austen x +

35 Persuasion - Jane Austen x

36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis x

37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres

39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden

40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne

41 Animal Farm - George Orwell x

42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown x

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez x

44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving

45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins

46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery

47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy

48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood x

49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding x

50 Atonement - Ian McEwan

51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel

52 Dune - Frank Herbert

53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons

54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen x

55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth

56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon

57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens x

58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley x

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck x

62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov x

63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sieboldx

65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas x +

66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac x

67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy

68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding x +

69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie

70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville

71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens

72 Dracula - Bram Stoker x +

73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett

74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson

75 Ulysses - James Joyce

76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath x

77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome

78 Germinal - Emile Zola

79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray

80 Possession - AS Byatt

81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens

82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell

83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker x

84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro

85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert x

86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry

87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White X

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle x

90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton

91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad x

92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery

93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

94 Watership Down - Richard Adams x

95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole

96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute

97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare x +

99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl x

100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo x



only 44...what I lousy English major I was...

The interesting part of this list- the majority of the titles I have checked as having read, I read in high school. Go fig.

.

25 things

(This was a note on Facebook.  I thought I would transfer it over here, so I can delete it there.)

25 Things

by Kristi Walker on Tuesday, February 3, 2009 at 11:06pm.Rules:

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you. I never tag people in these notes.
1. I'm a lazy person. This thing been floating on FB for quite some time, and I'm just now getting around to it.

2. If given all the spare time in the world, I would accomplish nothing. If I'm scheduled to the hilt, I'll be productive.

3. I don't wear much make-up or style my hair. I wear comfortable clothes. This is an extension of my laziness. All of that takes time and effort.

4. Despite #3, I have a secret girly-girl side that likes fashion, glamor, and jewelry.

5. When texting, I am compelled to use proper spelling and punctuation. I have let go of capitalization rules, however.

6. When asked what my favorite movie or song is, I never have an answer. My tastes are so varied that the answer could change based on day and mood.

7. Thanks to the influence of my father, I am a huge fan of James Bond and Mel Brooks.

8. I cry easily. Always have. I was a blubbering mess in the Sistine Chapel.

9. I'm a horrible baker. It requires an attention to detail. Cooking, on the other hand, is more freeing and allows for improvisation.

10. I taught high school English for three years. The experience was the teaching equivalent of boot camp. Plus, I was one of the few members of the department with a degree in English. It still bothers me.

11. I'm obsessive about checking my financial balances every day.

12. I started watching QVC when I was pregnant with my first son. (I've never ordered anything.) I just find the whole concept fascinating. I pity the people who call in just to talk to the hosts.

13. I love my pink flamingo Vans.

14. I played a variety of sports as a minor. Volleyball, basketball, cross country, track, soccer, swimming, diving, tennis- but not softball. Not sure why. I was a three-letter woman in high school.

15. Speaking of high school, I so desperately wanted to be liked and accepted, I joined too many clubs and groups, I let my classmates cheat off my work, and I lied to my parents so I could take some people to a prom after party. Wasn't worth it.

16. I love my children very much, but some days, I would like to sell them to gypsies.

17. I should have joined a sorority in college. I didn't- not because of the money or association, but because I didn't want to have to share a room with seven to nine other women.

18. I'm not incredibly crafty, but I enjoy scrapbooking. I don't get crazy and spend three hours on one page. I keep it simple. Scrapbooking curbs the pack rat tendencies and allows me to let go of the unimportant minutiae.

19. I love watching my husband interacting with our children. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

20. I could watch the five hour BBC miniseries version of 'Pride and Prejudice' over and over and over again. Oh wait, I already have.

21. I can't get enough of Starbucks' green tea Frappuccinos.

22. I will be a happy person if I never have to read another word written by Hemingway.

23. I love getting a pedicure. I have ruined every manicure within ten minutes of leaving the salon.

24. If I could get away with it, I would eat cereal for every meal.

25. I probably won't tag anyone for this note. I believe everyone on FB has already been tagged by at least five people.

One year already?

It's my blog-iversary!  *Fweeeeeeee*  (I've having great difficulty with onomatopoeia lately.)  This year has just flown by.  Ack!  Slow down!  Slow down!


This post has been brought to you by the exclamation point.  If you want excessive emphasis, use the exclamation point!

Will wonders never cease?

I took the boys to a play date today at someone's house.  I believe, for the first time, I really enjoyed myself.  Why?  I was able to talk to the other moms.  The boys actually played with the other kids instead of screaming* or trying to lick every toy in the room. Neither were trying to make a daring escape or torturing anyone. We all had a great time.  (Thanks, Amber!)  Wow!  So that's how it's supposed to be.  Amazing.


*For the record, I did have to carry Flynn out screaming.  He was over-tired and didn't want to leave.

Isn’t the brain awesome?

I was sitting in a delightful establishment, eating lunch and grading essays, when Styx’s “Babe” started playing. Immediately, I thought of M*. Every time I hear that song, that’s where my brain goes. Every time I hear any song by The Who, I think of MP. Air Supply: P. Violent Femmes and They Might Be Giants: H. “Pencil Thin Moustache”: E. Every time. Without fail. I hope it never changes.






*Names have been omitted to prevent awkwardness.

Unclean! Unclean!

In the interest of research, I thought I would watch Jersey Shore, just to see what all the hype was about.  There is not enough hand sanitizer nor a scrubby brush big enough to scour those images from my brain.  I believe my IQ dropped in half from watching 10 minutes of that show.  So, what is the appeal?  Tanned, stupid people being crass and generally douche-y?

Now, I understand the appeal of Jackass.  Is it wrong of me to want to watch Jackass: 3D but bag on Jersey Shore?

I really need to stop reading magazines

I've come to the realization than magazines that target women really do target women.  Our collective heads have been placed upon the target with arrows constantly shooting at us.  You aren't organized enough-- fidd-d-d-d-d.  (I don't know how to phonetically spell out an arrow hitting a target.  In my head, the sound comes from a Daffy Duck cartoon).  You're looking too old.  You're looking too fat.  What do you mean you aren't hand-stitching chipboard onto the hand pressed paper in your daily scrapbook?  You're a horrible mother for purchasing cupcakes at the store for your child's birthday party.  You need to be a super woman in every thing you do.  You need to be perfect; otherwise, you are unworthy of love, success, and children.  Bah!  Evil magazines.  The worst of these "archers": magazines run by women.  Don't we feel enough inadequacies without you bringing up some more that we didn't consider on our own?

Men's magazines are must simpler and don't impose judgement upon the reader.  Look!  Cars.  Guns.  Naked women.  Aren't these really neat? 

So jealous.

Age is just a number, right?

My niece Meghan turned 18 today.  I am now twice her age.  How's that for feeling old?

On the upside of feeling old today, 14 years ago today I hooked up with Tim.  I cannot go into the juicy details because of mixed company, but there was red wine on the ceiling from two engineers without a corkscrew thinking if they just shoved the cork into the bottle, all will be well.

Politics and Facebook

I have learned more about friends' personal politics from being on Facebook than I ever have from conversation.  The views from high school friends have surprised me the most.  I've known then for half of my life.  We became friends before we ever really understood politics and understood our own points of view.  I'm surprised how conservative the views tend to be (and that's isn't a slam--just an observation).  This shouldn't surprise me at all, but it does.  It makes perfect sense.  We were all raised Catholic.  Catholics tend to be more on the conservative side.  We tend (for the most part) to share the views of our parents.  It's the transitive property from geometry.  For some reason, I assumed others my age are more liberal.  Must be left over from my college experiences.  (And, what exactly does it mean to be either conservative or liberal?  Is there a checklist somewhere?)

Political discourse in this country has degenerated into a shouting match, where the loudest crackpot is heard.  A whole generation will believe this is the way it's done.  It isn't!!!  I can't wait for the election season to be over.  I want attack ads banned.  Don't the politicians see the logical fallacies created by attack ads?  I want to see this: 
               Hi!  I'm Joe Schmoe.  I believe this way on this issue and this way on this other issue.     
               I believe x, y, and z need to be banned.  Let's implement q.
Sadly, my dream will never come to fruition.  We say we want honest politicians (ha!), but we don't really mean it.  Being honest won't get you elected.

I plan on attending Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity.  I'm tired of extremists establishing policy.  (So, if I understand correctly, taking taxpayer money and giving it to the rich is a wonderful thing, but giving taxpayer money to people who need it is socialism?  Do you not see the disconnect?)  Let's bring logic back to the debate.

Halloween

I'm enjoying Halloween again, and it's not just for the candy.  What I always liked was making up creative costumes.  The best costumes I've made were in college.  I dressed up as a highlighter (one yellow and one black hoodie), static cling (pinned socks and underwear to myself), an electric fence (silver ribbon and a stun gun), and a Catholic school girl (I already had the uniform-- I just slutted it up a bit).  My roommate and I went a King Arthur and Patsy using a coconut bought in the Student Union building and some white garbage bags.  As a kid, very few had the pre-printed vinyl sheets and coordinating plastic masks.  I have nothing against store bought costumes, but the creativity is lost.  I always wanted to dress up as a punk rocker as a kid; my mom would never let me.  Not sure why.

Drake had no opinions on what he wanted to be for Halloween.  I wanted to do something I could make.  So, this year, we are going as skunks.  Black hoodies, boas, and double sided tape is all it takes.  (I do know how to sew; I did take home ec in the dark ages.  I'm not great at it, so anything beyond fixing a hem and it's a hot mess.)

What are you lookin' at?



Drake's finished costume



Drake wanted to help, so he was my dress form.

Flynn's was more difficult to finish, especially since he won't stay still for anything.  Hopefully, it won't be raining at the Zoo Boo and numerous other outings we have planned this October.

Balance

I believe I have struck a good balance with the wearing of my many hats.  I didn't know it would be as simple as sending my children to daycare/preschool twice a week.  I've been able to take time for myself.  I've been able to check some items off the massive to do list.  I'm only teaching one class right now.  I would prefer two*, but this is a nice way to ease into the transition.  I'm not torn between the guilt of being a full-time working mother and the guilt of not earning money by staying home.  I'm not as stressed out about my massive to do list because I am able to work on it, little by little.  I can now see that is it all manageable.  I can now work on my issues (of which there are many).  The depression seems to be dissipating.  Now, to focus on the social skills so my boys don't end up awkward like mommy. :)



*Mostly, I would like to teach two classes for the money.  We could always use more money**.

**I've never met anyone who has declared, "I just have too much money.  What a dilemma!"

Stand, sit, kneel, repeat-- part 2

So, why haven't I attend mass in over a decade?  I'm having issue with dogma, you know, the man-made rules one must abide to be a part of the "club."  I'm going to hell.  Did you know that?  And, why, may you ask?  Did I murder someone?  Steal from orphans?  Pee in the baptismal font?  No, none of those.  I'm going to hell because I had my tubes tied.  I have made the conscious choice to have only two kids.  Given our situation (financially, emotionally, intellectually), stopping at two is the right and responsible course of action.  Remember, every sperm is sacred.  And since I have blocked off the access of that sperm to any others eggs, well, I'm going to hell.

It's not the religion in and of itself with which I have issues.  Mostly, it's the people who hide behind it.  I have encountered so many people who claim to be Christian but perform the most un-Christian-like actions.  These people spout memorized lines from the Bible to announce to all how devout they are, but then spread venom and bile through gossip, hatred, and intolerance.  All the major religions tout peace and love, yet some followers use specific passages from their religious tomes to justify alienation, estrangement, enslavement, and war.  I have difficulty with entities that fear independent thought and specific children's stories.

My parents are devout Catholics, but you wouldn't know it.  They don't cram Bible verses down your throat.  They don't monopolize conversations with talk of God or the Church.  Their faith is seen through their actions.  If more Christians were devout in their actions instead of just their words, then the world would be a better place.

I saw an interview with Gene Simmons (of all people), and he was discussing the difference between Judaism and Christianity.  In Christianity, one just needs to ask forgiveness for all the awful things he or she did during life to gain entrance into heaven.  In Judaism, entrance is gained by living a good, kind life.  So, basically, I can act like a douche my entire life, but on my deathbed, I can ask for forgiveness and get into heaven ahead of someone who lived a good life, provided for his family, was kind to strangers and friends, but didn't go to church.  Doesn't quite seem fair, does it?

Guess what we're doing today?

Drake: Mommy, where are we going today?
Me: I have no plans for us to go anywhere today.
D: bows head in pout
M: Drake, do you have a plan for us today?
D: smiles Oh, yes!  First, we go to Starbucks... then the toy store... then we just come back home.