The Motherhood Project

Ha!

2009-05-19T03:49:00.000-07:00

These struck me funny this morning. They're from Movie a Minute, a website that allows you to just get the gist of any flick. Normally, I'm not a fan of plot give aways, but I think we're pretty safe here.

GREASE

John Travolta: I like you, but you're not cool enough.

Olivia Newton-John: What if I dress like a slut?

John Travolta: Now that you're not who you are, I can love you for who I wanted you to be.

THE END

PRETTY WOMAN

Julia Roberts: I'm a hooker, but I don't kiss on the lips.

Richard Gere: I have a lot of money.

Julia Roberts: (smooch)

THE END

Let me let you in on a little secret.....

2009-05-15T06:25:00.001-07:00

Violet thinks I'm a genius song writer. She is amazed at how fast I can dream up wonderful melodies to go with silly lyrics.
The secret? I just ad lib lyrics to songs that already exist, but ones she has never heard of. For instance, the clean up song, as sung to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen:

Violet, this room's a mess
You've got toys everywhere
There are barbies on the stairs
Violet, this is really bad
We need to clean up this room right away...

Or a motivational song as sung to Hallelujah:

Viiiiiiiiiolet Ruby
Violet Ruby!
Get your stuff on!
We haaaave to go!

There are plenty more, but you get the idea. She thinks I'm brillant - don't tell!

Cheeky little bugger

2009-05-06T12:24:00.000-07:00

Me: Do you have to sprinkle Rice Krispies every where when you're pouring yourself a bowl??

Lila: Hey, that's just how I roll.

Me: ???

*****************

Lila had a writing assignment at school this week. She had to write a letter to someone who cooked her a delicious meal.
She chose to write hers to Friendly's. Not me. Not even her Nanny who cooks dinner every Sunday. Friendly's.
It went something like this:

Dear Friendly's,

Your peanutbutter cup Frenzy is the best! I love your peanutbutter sauce, how do you make that? Thanks for a delicious meal.

Lila

She wanted me to mail it to the restaraunt. I crumpled it in a ball and buried it in the recycling bucket.
I get no respect.

Chocolate Egg Seeking Jesus Zombies

2009-04-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

"Errrr!! I hate my hair!" Violet yells as she comes storming out of the bathroom into the living room.
"What's the problem?" I ask her can't believe I'm having this conversation with someone who's not even five yet.
"It's all bumpy on top! Everyone one is my class will see that and laugh at me!" I know this is not true. The kids in her preschool class still pick their nose and eat it, but this hardly seems the time to bring that up.
"Ok. First -stop yelling at me. If you want me to fix it, you need to ask me politely for help. Second - You are way to young to care about this stuff. Look at your sister," I point over to Lila sitting in the rocker. "She's 8, has a snarl on her head the size of a small cat and she doesn't care one bit. She'd go to school like that if I let her."
"You bet!" Lila says through a mouthfull of granola bar.
None of this has settled Violet. Her arms are crossed and she's dangerously close to stamping her foot at any moment.
"Ok, come here. I can fix this." I pull her into my lap and generously cover her head with tangle spray. I even out all the bumps and smooth the hair down both sides. "Go check that out and see if that's ok." I tell her. She comes back from the bathroom all smiles.
"That's great! Thank you Momma."
Crisis averted.

*************************

"Hey Momma, why do we celebrate Easter?" Lila asks me from the back seat of the car.

"Well, Easter is a religious holiday but we're more of the chocolate eggs and rabbits kind of family." I tell her.

"Why do they celebrate it, like, what does it mean?" She asks me.

I have to stop and think for a minute. We're not a devote family. I never grew up that way, so the finer points of these occasions slip me up sometimes.

"I think," I tell her "That Easter celebrates the day that Jesus rose from the dead."

"Oh Man! That's disgusting!" Violet yells from the back.

I quickly realise the only real experience my girls have had with Resurrection has come in the form of a cartoon where a boy gets his hamster back after it dies. It comes back as it is, all bones and puss, not as it was, all fuzzy and cute.

"No! No, Vi! It's not like that. It's a miracle and he's just fine! He's in good shape!" I tell her, but she is clearly not convinced.

"So, why would they want to celebrate that anyway?" Lila continues.

"Well, he's their savior, so it's a pretty big deal." I am well aware of what a mockery I'm making of this. This is just not my area and I'm winging it here just waiting for the questions to stop.

"But what does he do?" She asks

I am so deep over my head that I do the only thing I can at this point. "You are going to need to ask Grandma that." I tell her. My mother in law is a good catholic. The balls in her court now. Maybe she can save my heathen children because Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam.

************************

"Hey Momma! I just saved my own life!" Violet tells me as I walk into the kitchen.

"Really? What happened?"

"Well, I cut my finger real bad, but I got my own band aid and covered it up!" She holds up her hand and I see the Barbie band aid stuck to her thumb.

"Good for you, but how did cut your finger?"

"Well, that's not important. I just saved my own life! I had to open the band aid with my teeth because the blood was dripping everywhere and I couldn't use this hand." She shakes her bandaged hand at me.

She's clearly very impressed with herself. Almost a little shocked too that she managed to pull this off with out crying.

"May I check the cut, please. I want to make sure it's clean." I hold out my hand to her.

"I washed it and everything. It's great."

"Please." I tell her, still holding out my hand. She puts her hand in mine and I pull back the band aid. It's a pretty good puncture wound and it's still bleeding.

"I know you washed this out, but I'd like to do it again with some soap." I take her to the bathroom and clean up the cut and apply some antibiotic cream. As we're putting on a fresh Barbie band aid I ask her again how this happened.

"A spoon?" she says as she looks up at me through her lashes.

"Really? Spoons aren't sharp. Even the handles are mild. Was it really a spoon?" She nods.

"Ok, go get this spoon, I'd like to have a look at it." Violet heads up to her room and comes down a few minutes later with her wooden club house sign.

"Actually Momma, there was a pokey piece of wood on this sign but I took it off and threw it away so it's ok now." I inspect the sign that she and her Dad made. It's fairly smooth and sanded with no places for splinters to peel off from.

"Violet, this sign did not cut you. I'm going to ask you one more time and I want the truth. What did you get cut on?"

She hangs her head "A fork." She whispers. This makes more sense, but I'm still afraid she has gotten a hold of a knife.

"Go get the fork please." I tell her.

"I already washed all the blood off it, it's ok!"

"Go." I tell her.

She comes back down stairs with the fork. It's very likely this is the culprit. "Ok," I ask her "What were you doing when you got cut?"

"Well, you wouldn't help me so I was taking the paper off the can myself."

20 minutes earlier Violet had asked me to take the label off of a coffee can and I told her I couldn't help her right now. At that time I was on my hands and knees scrapping up several inches of powder from the bathroom floor. She had "accidentally" spilled it all over her bath toys, across the floor, in the trash can and worst of all in the corner by the tub. The shower always leaks in that spot so the powder was a gluey mess. This was not so much an accident but rather her amusement at the fwoosh noise the powder bottle made when she squeezed it. She's been testing the boundaries lately with her lying. So far, they've been mild and she's had no more than a stern look and warning. Now she's hurt herself and covered it up with lies. The fork must have slipped and gouged her as she was trying to pry the paper off the can.

"Ok. I believe that happened." I tell her. "But how do I know that you didn't get a knife and cut yourself on that?" I ask.

"I didn't! It was the fork! I wouldn't use a knife!"

"But you lied to me twice about how this happened. How I can I know that your not lying now?" I ask her.

"Really Momma, I'm not lying now!" the tears are welling up in her eyes. She looks shocked that I don't believe her.

I look her straight in the eyes "This is why it's not ok to lie. No one will ever be able to believe you because they won't know when you are telling the truth. It's never ok to lie when you get hurt. I have to know exactly what happened so I can take care of you."

I pull a chair over to the pantry door and motion for her to climb into it. "Have seat here for awhile and think that over." I tell her. She climbs in, hangs her head and lets out a big sigh.

This kid is going to be tough. She is so different from my other two. They would have been bawling at the first site of the blood, too scared to worry about being in trouble. That puncture had to hurt and it was bleeding pretty good too (I found the wads of bloody toilet paper in the trash can). Still, she sucked it up and "saved" her own life. At this point, I'm torn between pride and fear.

A few minutes later I tell her she can get up from the chair. "I'm sorry I lied Momma." She tells me.

"Good. I'm sorry you lied too. Please don't do it anymore." She gives me a smile and heads off upstairs.

Violet and Middle School is going to be a bitch. I can just feel it already.

She gives channel surfing a whole new meaning

2009-03-05T08:48:00.000-08:00

Life is such a comedy of errors. Those errors are typically only funny after the fact, but that really makes them richer.

Case in point: My husband works just down the road from our house. It's a 6 minute drive, sometimes less with no traffic. Tuesday night, I had to zip down the road to pick him up from work. Jasmine was home and upstairs watching t.v. so I left the girls with her. "I'll be right back." I told them all. As soon as I was out the door, Violet got her finger caught in a folding table. She starting screaming for help. Lila heard her from the bathroom and ran in to help ("I didn't even wipe!") As she came into the living room, she stepped on the TV remote and went sailing across the rug and crash landed on the floor. At this point both girls are screaming and crying, Lila's foot is in pain and Violet is still stuck in the table. Lila gets up, hobbles over and untangles Violet from the table, the whole time yelling for Jasmine. When she gets no response, she drags herself to the phone and calls my mom, who lives next door.

The full 6 minutes has elapsed. My husband and I have just returned. I open the front door and hear a mass chaos of crying. Violet shoves a bloody hand in my face and they are both near hysterics. I'm barely in the door when both my parents come running in. At this point I have: 2 screaming kids, 2 freaked out grandparents, 2 caught off guard parents, and one absent teenager. Darryl calls Jasmine downstairs while I take Violet in the kitchen for some first aid. I'm calming the girls down in the kitchen when Jasmine strolls in. "Did you yell for me? What's up?" The TV has sucked her in so hard, she didn't even notice what was happening down stairs.

Fast forward about a half hour. Violet is just fine and settled down but Lila has started crying again. Her foot is sore. I give her some ice to take to bed, but by 11pm she's up in serious pain. In the morning the doctor confirms what I already know - her foot is broken. 4 hours later we're home with crutches and a cast.

Fast forward to this morning. Lila stays home, Violet is headed to school. Her face is looking weird. It's red, blotchy,and hot. I stop into the school office to see the nurse. "Looks like Fifth disease." the school secretary tells me. "Wow, I guess I should take her home, huh?"
"Nope." she says. "She was contagious yesterday. Today, she's good to go!"

Fast forward to 10 minutes later. I'm apologizing to the parents and teachers. "If there's a pandemic in here, feel free to blame me." They're all very understanding, but silently cursing me out.

Life. It's very exciting.

Man Cold

2009-02-16T06:36:00.000-08:00

I've had a cold all weekend. It seems to be getting better. I hope I don't pass it on to the hubby. We wouldn't want him to get a man cold!
Love you honey! Thanks for buying me cake and doing the dishes this weekend :)

Memory Lane

2009-02-06T08:44:00.000-08:00

I was going through some old digital photos and I found these two movies of Violet that are so cute, I can barely stand it. I believe Violet is about 2 years old here.

Yes, she said Happy Dumb Easter. Dumb was her favorite word. I blame Spongebob.

I don't remember this incident, but the insertion of foreign objects in the nose used to happen frequently around here, so it's hard for me to recall specific moments.

Brownie Girls Rock!

2009-02-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

click to embiggen

The Brownie Valentine's party is tonight so I made these cute little iLove valentines for Lila to bring. I got the idea from Family fun magazine.

I haven't done anything creative in a while so this was sort of fun.

I need a new vacuum

2009-02-03T11:27:00.000-08:00

The older I get, the more changes I begin to notice about myself. There's the obvious stuff, like the perpetually aching back and the gray hairs that keep cropping up. But even more shocking are the less visible changes.

If some one came to me 15 years ago and said I could have anything in the world, I may have chosen a huge mansion, endless supplies of cash, and front row tickets to Blind Melon. If someone asked me that question today I know for sure what I'd answer: I want a really good vacuum.

When I say really good, I mean suck a golf ball through a garden hose good. I want a vacuum that sees Capri Sun straw wrappers and laughs. I want a vacuum that grew up in the hood, had a momma who smoked crack, a daddy who was never around and wouldn't think twice about shanking you if called him a sissy. I want a vacuum that shows up ready to rumble, ready to rock out with his balls out. I never want to have to pick up paper bits, Barbie shoes or, for fucks sake, thread again.
My construction yellow monster gave up the ghost yesterday so I borrowed my mother's dainty little toy vacuum. I think this thing was an asthmatic, lazy bastard in a previous life. All it did was look at the Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the floor, sigh real big and say "Could you get that for me?".
I've tried my friends' high end Dyson. It's nice and sucks like a cheerleader under the bleachers, but it's a little too delicate for what I have in mind.
I need the Marlboro Man of vacuums.
I need one I can ride hard, smack it's ass and put it to bed wet.
I will admit that I am a vacuum murderer so I need something tough enough to look me in the eye and say "Bring it, Bitch!"

Do they have that at Target?

Been busy, so here's a quickie-

2009-01-27T18:44:00.000-08:00

In the car on the way to the movies. Jasmine has joined us at the last minute and has no idea what movie we're going to.

Jaz: We're not going to see MILF are we?

Me: What? MILF?

Jazz: Yeah, you know, that movie about the gay guy.

Me:*face palm* That's called Milk, Jazz. Big difference.

Jazz: Oh. Whatever.

Consequently, Rachel Getting Married will completely shatter the Princess Diaries facade for a 14 year old.

Miracle Worker

2008-12-04T07:14:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, I can perform miracles. Not in the traditional sense, mind you, but miracles in their own right. For instance, take the playroom:

This is after a play date that lasted a few hours.

It's pretty amazing what 3 little girls can do to a room or two.

Let me tell you, I avoided those rooms all day. I actually hid in the kitchen so wouldn't have to face it. But sooner or later, the job had to be done so I rolled up my sleeves and dug in. I did find some interesting things among the chaos.

These are surely Lila's rocks. Violet crams hers in her pockets and they end up tumbling around my washer or dryer.

This must be from Violet's back pack.

I guess they played school. Yes, those are a balled up pair of undies next to the papers. I don't want to know what happened there.

So three hours and a bag and a half of trash later I was able to produce this:

It's not water to wine but it's definitely more practical.

Little Violet

2008-11-18T16:22:00.000-08:00

Violet's been having a rough couple of weeks at school. There could be many reasons, but I think I've narrowed it down to a combination of a weird, weekly guest speaker in her class who performs with a puppet and a scary and inappropriate story told to her by an older cousin.

Her teacher and I are working on a plan to get her back to her old self, but for now a magic show is a welcome distraction.

I'm told to "convert" my eyes so the trick can be set up.

Then comes the magic words - ABRAY CA DABBY!

And the toy is magically reappeared!

There's even a magic hat, artfully decorated by her big sister Lila.

And rabbits, pulled from within!

She's a keeper, this one.

Hand Carved Box

2008-09-01T21:14:00.000-07:00

Halloween Kitten!

Somewhere in my early twenties, I convinced Darryl that I needed a kitten. He already had a cat, Samantha. She was all white with striking blue eyes. She was also a little crazy, but otherwise a nice girl. None the less, I wanted my own cat and my sister managed to find me a gem.
Bela was all black with the most striking yellow eyes I had ever seen. He also had the biggest claws I'd ever seen too. He looked very much like a little bear cub. I wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it in our house with Samantha there. His first day home with us, he shook every time she came near him. That didn't last long. Bela very quickly found his bearings and became the dominant male in the house, dare I say he even challenged Darryl for the role of numero uno. He was my pride and joy and I lavished him with attention. I took him to bed with me and I even taught him to sit on command. Bela was also a terrific hunter. I know most cats are good at that, but Bela had skills. One of his more famous kills came after a weekend when Darryl and I went to the beach. I decided it would be best if we left both cats indoors for the two days we were gone. My mom would stop by and make sure they had plenty of food. Big mistake. Bela, if nothing else, was an outdoorsman. Two days in our apartment drove him nuts. I knew we were in trouble as soon as we were in the driveway. One of the venetian blinds in our living room was destroyed. The apartment didn't look much better. There was a lamp overturned and things were knocked off the tables. Bela took off outside as soon as he could. Later that day, Darryl and I were standing outside visiting with friends. We were all standing next to a bush that was full of birds chirping away. Bela came over to us, sauntered into the bush and grabbed not one, but two birds. There he was, directly in front of all of us with a bird squirming frantically in his mouth and another in his paw, pinned to the ground. The rest of the birds were still chirping away in the bush, completely oblivious to the carnage. We were all dumbfounded. That was years ago and we still talk about it to this day because it was such a site, and such a statement. That cat was clearly saying "Don't you lock me in the house like that again or you're next!". From then on, we left him outside whenever we went away.

Bela was by no means a perfect cat. Temperamental might be a good word for him. Someone could be petting him and think everything was alright, but then he'd turn around and bite them. He kind of got a reputation as being a bad ass that way. He was very clearly my cat. I knew how to read the signs of when enough was enough, but he also gave me way more leeway than anyone else. I'd often grab him up, hug him tight and plant a big kiss on his head much to the amazement of my kids. They would see this and say "Momma, was does Bela only love you?" "He loves you, too" I'd say "Just don't touch him."

Bela has been there for almost all the major events in my life thus far. He was there when I got married, had three kids, and moved from the apartment to this house. I knew his end was near. He was 15 and not looking great. He'd gotten very skinny and pretty much just slept outside in the sunny spots he loved. He still seemed like his old self to me and wasn't feeling any pain. Two weeks ago, my husband found him dead. He'd gone to sleep on my mom's back porch and just never woke up. Yesterday I picked up his remains at the vet's office. The company that cremated him had sealed him in a lovely hand carved box. I thanked the office staff and then sat in my car and cried. I've had a lot of pets in my life, but I'm having the hardest time getting over the loss of this one. Forgetting the routines is the hardest part. I still want to go to the door and call him in at night, still want him to sleep on my feet and beg for my food.

He was one of a kind and I miss him every day.

A very pissed of Bela. I put a collar on him that day. It didn't last. He had it off in no time.

Summertime and the living is easy...

2008-08-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

It's been an incredibly busy summer. There's only 3 weeks left until school and I haven't accomplished half of what I had planned to this summer. We've been busy.

Recently, we went on vacation to the Berkshires in Massachusetts. We had a good time! But before that, my good friends took my husband and I to the best concert ever - George Michael! It was a birthday gift to me. George was so good. The show was amazing, the seats were excellent, I was incredibly happy! I had so much fun. It was about a 2 1/2 hour concert and I was totally fueled on adrenaline the whole time.
Ah, George. It was fun. Thank you!

Here's a few pictures from vacation. I'm working on what to do about the blog. I could go anonymous, stay here and leave Jasmine out of it, I'm not sure. I'll figure it out.

Here is the Stone Barn from Shaker Village

Violet next to her favorite part of Shaker Village:
The Privy. She loved the idea of us using the bathroom as a family. There were enough holes for all of us and even a small one for a potty trainer. Between this, and the interactive animal scat exhibit at the Berkshire Musuem, Violet was happy. She could not have given a crap* less about anything else we saw.

*please excuse the bad pun*

Those Shakers. Too bad they were celibate. Maybe there would still be some of them around to enjoy this view.

When we got home from vacation we discovered something very mysterious in our house. A fairy door had popped up in our hallway staircase! Lila and Violet have been very interested in Fairies lately and have been spending a lot of time outside building fairy houses from sticks and moss. I guess they felt welcome here and moved in to the house!

Last night the girls left the fairies some presents. A few pennies, a flower, and a couple of letters. When they got up this morning, all the presents were gone and the hallway carpet was all sparkly! A hunt began for more doors, but none have been found - yet!
You can check out this website to see where some other fairy doors have been spotted.

When reality and the internet collide

2008-05-14T10:15:00.000-07:00

I've been a little hesitant lately to post here. A few months back, Jazz mentioned to a kid at school that her mom had a blog, but she didn't know the name of it. Turns out, it wasn't too hard to find me. This kid just typed in my name and up popped my blog. Normally, I wouldn't care, but the friend read through my entries and found a story about Jazz that I found to be funny. Jazz thought otherwise when the kids at school were laughing at her.

My point of being here was to tell my version of events and admit how difficult this whole parenting thing can be. I've begun to realize that my stories are not just my own. I share them with my kids. For Lila and Violet, that's not such a big deal but the same cannot be said for Jasmine.

Another reason I like to do this is to vent. I'm finding that increasingly harder to do. I can't really talk about (ok, bitch about) the other parents in the playground because many of them are computer savvy enough for MySpace pages. My fear is that these people will enter the names of school parents into the computer and see where they pop up. I'd, of course, pop up here discussing this bratty kid or that skanky mom and end up the Playground Pariah. I've already had one mom innocently enough ask me where I lived, only to have her confront me the next week wondering if I knew just how many sex offenders lived on my street. For whatever reason, she felt the need to enter my address into the Family Watchdog site. Maybe she does this to every person she meets, I have no idea. But faced with that kind of scrutiny, it's not hard to imagine the reaction I'd get if she found my cute little blog with some post criticizing someone at school. And if I can't bitch about the Playground Moms, what good is a blog anyway?

So here I am, at a crossroads. It seems the only way to move forward is to go away to a new space. A new blog where I can be anonymous might do the trick. Although, I'm not sure how this blog linked me to my name to begin with, so this may take me some time. If anyone would like to follow me along, let me know and I'll be sure to get you the new address. Unless, of course, our kids go to school together. Then I'll give you a fake address to a site that is rosy and never complains (and consequently is never updated either).

2008-04-30T14:27:00.000-07:00

I stood on the playground breathing warm air into my freezing cold hands. Beth, the saint-like preschool teacher stood command at the door scanning the crowd for familiar faces. She spotted a parent, called out a child's name and opened the door. The little girl ran from the school. "Mooooommmmmy!!!" she yelled, all the way down the walkway until she reached her mom, and jumped into her arms. I smiled, and turned to Violet's door to wait for her class. I'd been in my car a few minutes before and watched Violet play outside with her friends. I love watching her play when she doesn't know I'm there. I get to see School Violet. The person she becomes after I drop her off and she's on her own. It's the personality formed by her home life that gets road tested on the playground. I watched her run around, call to her friends and laugh.

Four years old might be the best age. It just seems like the best of both worlds. At four, my kids were mostly independent. They could use the bathroom, get a juice box, and carry on a conversation. Granted, it was mostly about what clouds taste like or does Cinderella ever go poop, but still, a conversation none the less. Yet at four, they are still your baby. They still like to be snuggled and kissed. They still need you, but they don't rely on you every second of the day. And they still really like you. Sure, my seven year old is happy to see me pick her up at school. She gives me a hug, but the level of ethusiam is different. She's a first grader and knows I'll be there to get her every day. The preschoolers always act so amazed that their parents are waiting for them. They never expect that when the door opens mom will be standing there.

Joanne opens the school door and scans the crowd. She see me and calls to Violet. Violet comes outside and yells "Moooooommmmmmyyyyy!!" all the way to me where I picked her up and give her a kiss.

It has to be the best age if you can make them insanely happy just by showing up.

Update

2008-04-02T17:23:00.000-07:00

Wal-Mart has decided to not sue Debbie Shank for the money in her trust fund. Public pressure caused them to re-evaluate the case and change their mind on how to proceed. Congratulations to everyone who emailed Wal-Mart and forced them to reconsider.

I'm happy that the right thing happened here, but it's still a sad story. I wonder how far the $417,00 will go when it comes to Debbie's care and what will happen when it runs out. And it's terribly sad, as one of my smart commenters posted, that the laywers ended up with more money than Debbie or Wal-Mart.

Small victories- I'll take them where ever I can.

2008-03-28T10:41:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's been two months since I posted anything here. It's not for lack of material, that I can assure you. Living with three kids, enough stuff happens around here to fill a book. I'll come back to my kids antics later, but for now I want to share someone else's story.

This story is about Debbie Shank. Debbie was a Wal-Mart employee up until a near fatal car accident that left her with permanant brain damage. She must live out the remainder of her life in a nursing home, the severe short term memory loss rendering her unable to live with her family and continue working. Debbie's family sued the driver at fault for the accident and won a $1 million settlement. After paying the attornies fees, $417,000 went into a trust fund for Debbie's care. If any of you have had a relative in a nursing home, you know that money won't last long. But it is something to help out. Debbie's husband has cancer and works two jobs to try and support his family but recently had to divorce Debbie so that she qualified for more financial aid. And to make matters even worse, the Shank's son was killed in Iraq while serving for our military.

Think this poor family's story can't get any worse, oh, it does. Wal-Mart has now sued Debbie Shank for the $417,000 that is in her trust fund. The reason? According to the fine print of her health insurance form, Wal-Mart has the right to take any monies received in a settlement for reimbursement of medical expenses paid out through the plan. They were suing her for more money but all she had was the $417,000 so the Supreme Court said that was all they could demand from her.

Wal-Mart's response to the family and public was that while the Debbie Shank case was sad, they owe it to the other plan members to put money back in to the plan when ever they can. They have to follow the plans strict guidlines.

Ok, so the plan dictates what Wal-Mart is legally entitled to receive. I understand that, we all do. However, I find it hard to belive that a company who posted $90 BILLION dollars in sales last quarter cannot find a way to make a charitable contribution to Debbie Shank in the amount of $417,000. This goes way beyond Supreme Court rulings and insurance plans, this is about common decency.They can rationalize this all they want, but we all know this is just wrong. The benefit plan may be entitled to the money but Wal-Mart can and SHOULD do better.

The link to the CNN.com story is below. I'm encouraging every one to read it and send an email to Wal-Mart. Let them know what you think. Maybe if they feel the pain in their next sales report, they'll see Debbie Shank's story from a new perspective.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/03/25/walmart.insurance.battle/index.html

Gulliver, you shameless bastard.

2008-01-15T09:21:00.000-08:00

Since it snowed all day Monday, the kids had the day off from school. Pretty soon after 9:30am, the neighbor girls called to see if Lila could play. For the sake of anonymity, let's just call them Root and Shoot. Their mom is a former vegetable growing-homeschooling-all things earthy is best-Hippie, so those are actually not too far off from their real names.

I've had a little trouble in the past with the Hippie (as she will now be called). She is very strict about what she feeds her kids and about allowing them to watch tv. I found this out over the summer when her kids had been in my yard playing all day. I invited them into the air conditioning for a lunch of chicken nuggets and Sponge Bob. Big no-no.

So Lila, Root, and Shoot played out in the snow for most of the morning. They came in at noon and asked if they could have lunch with us and then play inside our house. I took their lunch orders ("Since you don't have tomato, which is the best part of a ham sandwich, I guess I'll have to have peanutbutter and jelly.") and let them sit in front of the tv only while they ate. As soon as everyone was done, I turned it off and told them to go play. And they did play. They played toys, made forts, did crafts, played school and none of it involved any tv.

Around 4:30pm, everyone was getting kind of bored. They'd been over all day and were starting to get hungry and tired. We had a half and hour to kill before I walked them home for dinner and I was out of ideas. Then I remembered that my dad had dropped off a copy of Gulliver's Travels. It was put out by the Hallmark channel, so it had to be family friendly! The girls all settled on the couch with a big blanket and I sat down with my knitting and we started the movie. I have to admit, I wasn't really paying a whole lot of attention to the movie. I knew he was a giant in a land of tiny people but I'm new at knitting, so I still have to watch what I'm doing. I was sort of listening though, and at one point Gulliver admitted to having drunk the "Royal cellar full of wine" in celebration of helping the Liliputians defeat their enemy. "I was quite drunk, when it happened." He said. This is where I put my knitting down. What in the hell did the drunk do? I thought. We can't possibly be talking date rape, right? This is a Hallmark movie and the logistics of a giant and a Liliputian...
It turns out the Royal Castle was on fire. The Queen was trapped on the top floor and no ladder could reach her. With the fire fast approaching, Gulliver had to do something.

I knew right then what he was going to do.

Gulliver, in all his drunken glory, unzipped his pants and pissed on the fire.

The movie makers did a lovely job of dubbing in a realistic pissing sound. And the stream? Why any man would be proud of a full bodied forceful stream like that.

"What is that?" Shoot asked me. I didn't say anything.
"That's pee, right?" asked Root.

Just then the greatful, and thoroughly drenched, Liliputian Queen looks up to thank whoever saved her from the fire. Her eyes widen as she looks up, a horrified look spreading across her face. It was the same look on my face as I realized what was happening, only I didn't have to stare straight into Gulliver's one eyed monster.

The queen screams her bloody head off when she realizes she covered in giant piss and not lake water as she originally thought (you'd think the stench of red wine urine would have given that away, but suspend your believe folks).

It's at this point that Lila starts laughing like a maniac. "That's pee? She's covered in pee!" Lila rolls off the couch in an absolute fit of giggles.

"Ok girls, it's time to go home!" I jumped up and turned off the tv and ushered them into boots and hats, hoping the quick action of gathering all their belongings will make them forget what they've just seen. But, I know it won't. When they get home they won't tell their mom about the healthy lunch, the forts or any of the crafts we did. All they'll remember to tell her is that Jenn let them watch a movie about a drunk giant who pissed on people.

That's why I left them at the end of the driveway instead of walking to the door. I'd rather stare headlong into Gulliver's dick then get the look of shame from the former Hippie.

Little Punk

2008-01-08T09:20:00.000-08:00

Jazz: So, I see you signed up to work the bake sale tomorrow.

Me: Yup.

Jazz: Well, I won't be there you know. So you'll have to hang out with all my dorky friends!

Me: That's ok. I have plenty of stories I can tell them.

Jazz: Was that 12 to 1 you were working? Oh, yeah, I can make that. I'll be available.

Me: That's what I thought.

-----

Phone call at 8am

Jazz: Hey can you bake a bunch more stuff for today?

Me: What? I spent 6 1/2 hours baking yesterday! Why do you need more stuff?

Jazz: No one else made anything and we'll never make it throught the first lunch period.

Me: (muttering) Do I have anything left? Are there any eggs left?

Jazz: Oh, and, no other adult signed up to help us either so if you could come in earlier that would be good.

Me: So you want me there by 11am with enough baked goods to feed the whole eigth grade?

Jazz: Pretty much. I'll see you later! *click*

Me: I fucking hate bake sales.

The week that made Mommy want to run away and join the circus.

2008-01-06T19:51:00.000-08:00

December is done and I'm finally starting to feel like I'm back in the land of the living. It was a mad rush to figure out how to pay for Christmas, find gifts, and get everything organized. It made me rather Bah-humbuggy. I expressed my distaste for all things tinlsey and festive at our monthly PTA meeting and I thought the gasps of horror were going to blow me through the library wall and straight into the Instructional Resource room. "How could you say that?" said one particularly disgusted parent. "You have little children at home!" Apparently the fact that someone of the small persuasion would be ripping open gifts at the butt crack of dawn in my living room should make it impossible for me to feel any holiday stress. Screw her. She's a freak who drinks gas station coffee and eats crab rangoons during the meetings.

But Christmas came and was good. The kids were spoiled and had great fun. The food was great and we all ate way to much. Well, there was that unfortunate incident of my husband stepping on a three inch embroidery needle. It went straight into his foot - what the hell are the odds of that? It stopped just before the eye and I got to pull it out for him. That was pretty gnarly! I was really impressed by how much it bled after it was out.

Then December 26th happened.

Jasmine woke up early and left the house by 7:30am to go redeem her Christmas gift cards. She was back by 9:30am and said she didn't feel well. It all fell apart shortly after she came home. She puked more than any human should. I banned everyone from using the upstairs bathroom and sent the little ones to my mom's house. It was close to 11pm before she was able to settle down and sleep. But the damage was done. Pretty soon Lila starting in, then my mom was ill, followed closely by Violet. I'll spare you the gory details and just say that I fully expected Dustin Hoffman to knock on our door dressed in HASMAT gear and ask if we'd seen a monkey roaming around. Somewhere in there our rabbit died too. I hate to be insensitive, but I was really too tired to care. My dad bagged him up and left him by our car. He then went to a "better place", otherwise know as my sister in law's dumpster. Don't judge. What the hell would you do with a dead rabbit in below freezing weather?

It was pretty bad. I had some barfing everyday during Christmas break. On the upside, I'm now pretty good at pulling the sheets off the bed in a nice ball so that when I get to the washer the icky part can unfold right into the machine. Hey, we all need skills baby.

So New Years Eve came around and everyone was much better. We had a few friends over and we're in bed by 2am. By 4:30am I was up and ready to die. So was my husband. It seems the nasty Norwalk virus survived my ferocious bleach scrubbing and slammed us too. We were in rough shape, and the worst part was that New Years Day is Lila's birthday. I had promised her that she could have chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday breakfast and I hated to disappoint her. The smell of the hot butter and the batter almost made me cry, but I managed to cook two before giving up. I spent the rest of the day moaning on the couch and Darryl spent it in bed.

So that was my week of hell. But it's done, gone, and soon to be forgotten. I officially welcome 2008! Just be gentle to me, I'm low on detergent and bleach.

The Ugly Truths -or- The Crap You Don't Tell People

2007-12-05T10:09:00.000-08:00

Right now, I'm supposed to be preparing the budget for our PTA meeting tonite. But instead, I'm catching up with you. If any of you are still out there. Please forgive the lack of posts and accept my apology in the form of some guilty confessions. You know, the ugly stuff we all hide so everyone thinks we're normal.

Lila spent three days in the same clothes. Not three days in the sense that she put pajamas on, went to bed, then woke up in the morning and chose to wear the same clothes again. She slept and lived in the same clothes for three days. She was actually quite proud of it. She came downstairs Monday morning and proclaimed loudly "Three days and two nights!". Eh, hate if you want. It was the weekend, we didn't go anywhere, and Monday was a snow day. The upside is that by Tuesday morning, those undies walked themselves to the hamper and hardly any of our clothes actually make it into the hamper.

Today was the only day the school store was open for first graders. Grade five is selling crappy toys and unusable erasers to raise money for their class trip. I pretended not to have any money on me today. The truth is, I had change in my pocket and I stopped at the convenience store on my way home and bought myself a HUGE Diet Pepsi. The guy in front of me was buying a 40 oz beer (or a fo'ty as he called it) at 8:45 am. He tucked it into his book bag and headed to the college for his morning class.

I haven't put the laundry away in a long time. My nice hubby keeps washing it, and I keep ignoring it. We're living out of laundry baskets. Lots of laundry baskets. They're perched rather precariously on top of each other in the my room. I'll get to it, eventually. Right now, I just keep grabbing my shirts off the bedroom floor and wearing them.

Violet got a hold of my self sticking stamps and plastered the house with them. She thought they were stickers. I got most of them back, some were too far gone. The other day, I needed a stamp and remembered there was one stuck to the trash can. I scraped it off with a knife and stuck it to my letter with double stick tape. You do what you gotta do.

Yesterday was picture re-take day. Lila's pictures were less than stellar. Her lip was curled in this weird grimace and her hair was all fuzzed up behind her. For $40, I expect them to smooth her hair down. I wrote a note to the photographer that said "All I'm looking for is a natural smile and less crazy hair." Who wants to place bets that they took offense at that and I'll get a nice 8x10 of Lila looking like a DMV shot?

Ok, what's your story? I know you've got them. Be honest - did your undies walk themselves to the hamper too?

William Tell Overture for Moms

2007-10-03T05:10:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my friend Jeremy for sending this my way!

Migraines Suck Ass!

2007-09-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's been awhile since I've posted anything. There's no particular reason for that other than the oppressive summer heat that zapped all my desire to do anything and the fact that the kids kept nagging me to make them food and take them outside.

At the moment, all three girls are at school. Violet will need to be picked up soon, but the momentary peace and quiet is nice. Especially since I got up this morning with a raging migraine. It's still here, but the debilitating nausea is slowly going away.

So while I work on a fulfilling post, here's a few highlights:

-Remember Message in a Bottle guy? My brother in law called the number. Turns out the dude's name is Sean. He's a twenty-something pervo from Massachusetts and he throws those bottles all the time.

-After three years of trying, Jasmine has finally made it on a team sport. She'll be playing Field Hockey this fall. Her first game is this afternoon.

-Lila has had this terrible cough for about three weeks. She coughs so hard she pukes. Last Friday nite, the kid could hardly breathe with out a coughing fit. The doctors wouldn't see her. They said it sounded pretty typical and call back if she actually can't breathe. Oh, and I shouldn't be giving her any over the counter cough medicines because they no longer believe in them. Fuckers. She got her Triaminic Night Time Cough and Cold anyway. She had to sleep a little.

Ok, I've got to go ice my head and eat some more excedrine. I hate migraines.

Random thoughts.......

2007-08-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

I think I need to buy a cow. Seriously. Or maybe Hood can just fill a tank in my basement like the oil man does. It would be so much easier for me. We go through a gallon of milk every two days. But if I buy two at a time, no one drinks it. A conundrum for sure.

Lila has moved up a level in swim class. That means she has to spend some time in the deep end. Every class, she has to jump in the 10 foot and then tred water. She's always the last one in, her nerves getting the better of her. She finally jumps and it seems like days before she comes back up and clings to the edge. Then she swims across the deep end to the other side and treds water. At this point, my chest is ready to explode because I finally realize that I have been holding my breath since she left the shallow end. The safe end. The end she can touch in. I hate watching her in the deep end.

Elderly people are great and all, but I really think the grocery stores need Elderly Hour shopping time. A time when they can just go in by themselves and shop to their hearts content. This would be a great way for the stores to get rid of all the Granny Annie sized jars of peanutbutter and Ovaltine. It could be at like 5am, they're all up early anyway right? Oooh, better yet a Family Grocer that had a huge jungle gym in the middle where you could drop off your kid to play while you shop. Our grocery store used to do Wine Sample Fridays. That was nice.

We may also need a wheat field. I can't seem to buy loaves of bread often enough. We are constantly out of bread.

Carrie, my daughter's swim teacher really needs to pull her bathing suit down. I tired of seeing her butt cheeks. I look at her butt cheeks more than my own. I've started bringing books to swim lessons.

I have not practiced Lila's reading with her yet this summer. I've read to her but not practiced her reading to me. I promised my self we would do it at least 3 times a week. Aren't the little promises you make to your self just precious? Ahhh, noble thoughts.

The weekend at the beach.

2007-07-29T21:36:00.000-07:00

We're home after spending the weekend at the beach. Some good friends of ours agreed to put up with all our noise and messes for two days so we could enjoy the salty air and sandy bottoms. We are greatly appreciative of their hospitality!

Here are a few photos of the weekend. We were staying in Scituate, MA. The house was right on the harbor. Here's a view from the porch:

There were some beautiful sailboats docked in the harbor for the weekend.

Lila

Violet

And Jasmine was camera shy so how about a picture of the sunset?

While Darryl was exploring the rocks near the lighthouse, he found a message in a bottle! I was pretty excited because I'd never found one of those before. It took me a pretty long time to get it out of the bottle. The inside was a little wet and the paper kept sticking to the sides. But I finally managed to pry it out in one piece. Wanna know what it said?

Yup. I *heart* Vagina.

It wasn't a romantic message from a heartbroken man whose wife, his only source of light and joy, died in his arms and he just wanted to send her one last thought.

Not even a cute scribbling from an adventurous grade schooler looking for fascinating "What I Did This Summer" story for school.

And it wasn't even a hopeful wish for the future of our planet.

What are the chances that I'm ever going to find a message in a bottle again? Did my one and only chance really have to be I *heart* Vagina???

Feel free to call the number. I'd like to, but I have the feeling the writer and I don't share similar interests

Because I'm crazy like that

2007-07-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

Here is a short clip of JG singing!

And here he is talking on the phone to me!

Ok. Teenage-girl syndrome is over. We now return to your regular scheduled blogger.

Squeel!

Guess what I did this evening!

2007-07-24T20:47:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't watch American Idol, you won't care. But for those of you who do-

I just talked to Justin Guarini on the phone !!!!!

He was at a corporate event that my husband attended this evening. I acted like such a girl, I told him he was my one of my favorite Idols ever.

And I may have squeeled a little.

*Sigh*

That was fun.

Then I cleaned the toilet.

My life is a non-stop par-tay people!

The Wedding!

2007-07-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

The wedding day came and we were all prepared. I had made the lists of all the things we needed: curling iron, make up, jewlery, the shoes. Everything was packed and in the car. Our friends Mary and Jeremy followed behind us with the dresses and the steamer. When we got to the venue we dressed the girls and did one last rehearsal and then it was time. I left the little ones with the bridesmaids and took a seat. I was fairly sure that all would be well. Violet was very excited to be there and she just loved her dress. But still, you just never know with a three year old. The music started to play and the bridesmaids started walking. Everyone was beautiful. And then came my two little ones. I held my breath.....

They did it! I was so happy. The service was lovely and sweet. The bride was crying as she walked down the aisle and it made us all tear up. The girls stood still and silent during the vows and walked politely back down the aisle after the service.

Then the ripped off their shoes and daisy rings and begged for food! We all had a great time. The reception was fun. It's been a long weekend. I'm going to fight my way through some laundry and dishes so while I do that, have a look through a sampling of the photos we took that day.

I'm so glad they made it down the aisle!

Violet and Lila as Flower girls

Jasmine, my niece Kelsey, Violet & Lila

My mom, and my nephew Zac who is also the groom! I was freaking out because the service was starting and I couldn't see my mother anywhere. I was just about to get up to look for her and then I saw Zac escorting her to her seat and then taking his place at the alter. I didn't know he was going to do that and I thought it was very sweet.

The bride, Lindsey, and the groom, Zac. Poor Lindsey was just doing all she could not to sob. Zac looked so nervous!

The mother of the groom and my sister Cindy with dad of the groom and my BIL Jim. Ha! She's going to shoot me for putting this picture up!!

I'll make my ammends by posting this pic. That's me in the striped shirt with the mother of the bride. We were discussing the fact that a large bug flew up the brides veil during the service and what was the best way to see if it was still there w/o freaking her out. I ended up just faking that I was really into veils and needed a closer look. No bugs were found!

2007-07-10T00:05:00.000-07:00

So we've got a wedding here in a few days. My nephew is getting married on Saturday and all three of my girls are in the wedding. Jasmine will be a junior bridesmaid and Lila and Violet will be flower girls. This has been quite the process. It was a challenge to find matching flower girl dresses that were flattering to both a 6 year old and a 3 year old. But, all the dresses are in, the alterations will be finished tomorrow (thanks Mare!) and it should all go off with out a hitch.

If I can convince Violet to go down the aisle.

Now, I hate to even bring this up because my sister is a reader of this blog and it's her son that is getting married. To say that this wedding has turned her into a raging stress-ball would be an understatement, right Cindy? The fact remains that Violet is 3 and that's still pretty close to unpredictable babyhood. She may march down the aisle and beam with pride that everyone is staring at her, she may also yell "NO! I hate the wedding!" and refuse to budge. It's a crap shoot. We do have bribes waiting for her. My mom purchased some ridiculously priced stuffed animals that will be waiting for her at the end of the walk and I plan to have lollipops waiting to keep her interested. But even with all that, she still might get stage fright and not do it.

And in the end, if she doesn't do it or if I have to walk down the aisle with her to get her to go, it's not the end of the world, right? This ceremony symbolizes a commitment to future. That no matter what happens, these two people will be together to weather the storms and bask in the sunshine, hand in hand.

And a 3 year old in a lilac gown ain't got nothing on that.

Leslie's Aviator Sunglasses

2007-06-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

One of the cool things about raising my kids in the same neighborhood that I grew up in is that they get to have some of the same experiences I did as a child. My kids are going to the same elementary school that I did and are even playing in the same backyard that I spent nearly every day in. It's a pretty cool thing. They are also taking swimming lessons in the very same public pool that I learned to swim in many, many summers ago.

I was sitting at the pool this week watching two of my girls and my niece learn their strokes. It was hot in the sun, so I found a nice shady spot near the shallow end to sit. I was enjoying the peace for bit until I looked up and saw her. Leslie, the world's meanest life guard. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started to race. Leslie is an impossibly tall, manly built woman with a severe blond haircut. She had the same aviator style sunglasses she had always worn when I was a girl. To tell you the truth, I'm not certain she even has eyes. I've never seen them. The only thing a kid ever saw when they looked Leslie in the face was their own shivering, pruney reflection in her mirrored sunglasses.

The swimming lessons were actually the brilliant plan of my friend Jeremy's mom. She thought we needed them, and told my mom that she would be happy to drive the two of us to the pool every day during summer vacation to make sure we had the lessons. I hated the idea of it. I never wanted to go but my mom made me, so I went.

It never seem to matter how hot the summer afternoons were going to be, the mornings were always frigid. The pool water would mimic the air and be just like an ice bath. That, however, was easily remedied by jumping in to the pool. You could acclimate to the ice water pretty quickly once your head was wet. The hard part was getting to the pool and past Leslie. She had an almost sadistic need to make us "shower" before we could get in the pool. By "shower", I mean that we would have to go to the locker rooms and drench ourselves with water via the communal shower head. If you thought the pool water was bad, the shower water was sure to send you into sheer epileptic fits. I pretty sure that it came directly from frozen glaciers with ice chunks still flowing through out. I fucking hated going under that shower. Not just for the cold temperatures, but because Leslie insisted it had to be done. We had germs, you see, and the shower would keep her pool clean. I'm not sure what kind of germs Leslie thought a few middle class kids from the suburbs had that couldn't be killed off by massive quantities of chlorine. And let me tell you, she kept that pool juiced. Jer and I went around looking like pre-teen stoners for most of the summer with our chlorine induced red eyes. Still, she demanded we shower before jumping in the pool. So we, of course, found ways to avoid it.
Our first line of defense was getting in the pool quicker than Leslie could inspect us. Jeremy and I would dump our towels on the ground and run to the deep end and jump while Leslie was getting her clipboard.
"Hey!" She'd shout. "Did you two shower first?"
"Yeah, of course!" We'd yell back, and we were safe for a day.
That didn't always work. Some mornings she'd be waiting for us. We'd get turned around and sent straight back to the locker rooms for a shower. We'd splash some water on our bathing suits and hair and head back to the pool, dejected. There was one day that I ran and jumped in pool confident that I'd fooled her. I hadn't. Leslie actually made me get out of the pool and go shower. She was nothing if not consistent.

The showers were not the only area that Leslie ruled with an iron fist. She was a Nazi when it came to laps and treading water. We would tread water for ten minutes straight and then do twenty pool laps. We'd be exhausted, clinging to the edge of the pool for dear life and Leslie would decide that we hadn't done the laps right. "Jennifer!" She'd bellow. "10 more laps!" It never occurred to Leslie to actually instruct us on how to properly swim a lap. She'd just sit in her lawn chair with her towel wrapped around legs, her whistle hanging from her neck and bark orders.

By the summer of fourth grade I'd had enough. I told my mother flat out that I hated swimming lessons, hated the lifeguards, and I wasn't going back. "You can pay the money if you want to, but you won't get me in the car. I will not go." I told my mother. She decided that this was not a battle that she was going to win, so I didn't go back to another lesson.

*****

I watched Leslie saunter across the pool yard and over to some workmen at the far end of the property. She talked with them a while, then left. I can't believe she still works here. I can't believe she still wears the same sunglasses. But mostly, I can't believe she still makes my breath hitch in my chest and brain ask "Can I make it to the deep end before she sees me?"

One bad choice...

2007-05-30T23:57:00.000-07:00

I was reading the obits last night and came across one for a kid that I went to high school with. I was never friends with him, he was actually a year ahead of me. I always knew who he was, one of the cool kids, kind of cocky, you know who they are. Hell, maybe they were you. This particular high school elite was memorable to me, and the rest of our school, after one fateful night. This guy had spent the night drinking at some party and then decided he was perfectly capable to drive home at an obscene rate of speed. Unfortunately, high school kids are dumb and the drunk ones even dumber. He drove straight into a tree, totaling the car and permanently damaging his brain.

I can vividly remember girls crying in the hallway when they heard the news. Girls that never got the time of day from this guy were so upset they tried to leave class early, or not go at all. A few people thought he'd be back to school in few months. "He just needs some physical therapy." they said. Most of us knew better.

The reality was that this perfectly healthy, popular, 17 year old boy would be confined to a wheelchair. His brain damage so severe that he would be unable to return to school, or our world as teenagers, ever again. I remember the night that his parents decided to bring him to the school talent show, Avant Garde. It was many months after the accident and he hadn't been back to the school yet. The whispers started that Sean was here and everyone wanted to see him. I edged around the crowd to sneak a peek at him and I was pretty horrified at what I saw. He was sitting in a huge wheelchair with a head rest, his hands in fists at his chest and some sort of towel around his neck. It was a sobering image and must have particularly hard on those kids who had hung out with him. I walked away shocked. I had never seen anyone like that before.

High school went on after the accident. People forgot about Sean and the talk died down. When I was a senior I did a presentation on the dangers of drunken driving, citing Sean as an example. "It can happen to any of us," I said. "Actually, it already has."

So here I sit. Married, three kids and a cat. My life went on because I didn't make the same choices Sean did. I always saw him as older than me but he really was just a kid. I was just a kid. I made plenty of bad choices, just not extreme enough to take my life. Or mostly take it and leave the rest of me behind in a wheelchair. I look at kids that same age now and think about what babies they are. It's terribly sad that one cocky kid made a bad choice and paid for it the rest of his life. His short life. But, babies or not, we let our kids out in the world and let them make all the choices for themselves. They're going to get it wrong sometimes, it's impossible for them to always get it right. It just seems very unfair that a 17 year old should be able to get it that wrong. The only thing I can do as a parent is teach my children about making good choices and what the consequences are of the bad ones.

Then cross my fingers and let them go.

Of course, that means no more poopy diapers either. Ha!

2007-05-17T14:12:00.000-07:00

The warm weather has brought on one of my favorite times of year - yard sale season. I just love picking through all the junk and finding something good. That's how I started my collection of vintage Pyrex bowls. Of course, I have to distract my sister and my mom from them first. Usually an "Ooh, look over there! Jewelry!" will send them off in the wrong direction. Hey, you snooze, you loose, right?

This Saturday was beautiful and sunny. A perfect day to do some spring cleaning. Yeah, everyone was thrilled here, too. I was able to get rid of so much stuff. The kids were at my mom's house so I threw all kinds of crappy toys in the trash. I was able to give a ton of stuff away, too. My husband dragged all of Violet's baby stuff out of the basement and I cleaned it up so we could stick it by the side of the road with a free sign on it. As I was standing there cleaning that highchair, I got to thinking about how many times I'd done that before. I got the chair as a baby shower gift when I was pregnant with Lila. The girls from the office chipped in and bought it for me. It was really nice, one of the expensive ones. I always tried to take good care of it. I washed it up at least three times a day for meals, and all the little in between times for ice creams, painting, and whatever other messes that babies made while contained.

I remember thinking what a pain in the ass it was when the thing got dirty. The pad and cover would have to be removed and washed. The tray scrubbed, the seat scrubbed out. It got to the point that I loathed cleaning that highchair. I was so glad to move it to the basement and get Lila in a booster chair at the table.

I don't think I even gave the highchair another thought until I found out we were having Violet. Then I did a mental inventory of our baby stuff and remembered it was in the basement. I was glad we had saved the highchair. It held up so well through Lila's babyhood that we could certainly use it again for Violet. And soon enough, we were. I wish I could say that my feelings about cleaning it had changed, but they didn't. The first day that I had to scrub peaches and baby cereal out of all the grooves I thought "Right, I remember. This sucks."

I washed it up at least three times a day for meals, and all the little in between times for ice creams, painting, and whatever other messes that babies made while contained.

Saturday, I washed it up for the last time. It went home with somebody else. Some other baby will spill spaghetti sauce and pudding all over it and some other mom will clean it up.

I won't miss the scrubbing, but it's an end of an era. No more babies in this house. I knew that after Violet was born, of course. We made the choice and had the surgery to ensure that fact. Some how putting all that stuff outside for other moms to use with their babies just drove it home. Made it real. Final. Fact.

No more babies for us.

The Big Party

2007-05-05T18:30:00.000-07:00

So last Saturday I hosted a surprise party for my husband and two of my daughters. Darryl and Violet share the same birthday and Jasmine is just a couple of weeks earlier than them. It went very well. My husband was surprised, I don't know how, but he was. I kept accidently leaving little things out (like the guest list!), but he never noticed. Jasmine already knew about the party but she and Violet were happy to see all the gifts.

Here are some photos of the day. Many, many, many thanks to all the family and good friends who helped me pull this off. I would have gone nuts if I had to do this alone!

Violet's Pinata. Lila helped stuff this sucker full of chocolate & toys.

I bought 3 journals and left them on a table with some family photo albums of my girls and Darryl during his childhood. There was a note on the table asking people to leave a message for Darryl, Jasmine and Violet. A big thanks to my MIL for spending two days going through photos and putting an album together of my hubby.

Ok, this is a crappy picture. Me, my friend Mary and Darryl's sister Tammy made party favors for all the guests. Little boxes that were stamped and had chocolates in them. The chocolates were wrapped in stamped sticker paper. It was A LOT of work but worth it. Mary was very instrumental in this. I'm not sure it would have gone as easily with out her!

We had so much food! Yum, it was all great.

I made 8 center pieces. My husbands favorite thing in the world (besides me, of course) is M&M's. Each bowl was filled w/ candy and had a picture of all three birthday people when the were young. Which for Violet was pretty easy, since she's just three!

Darryl, my husband, is in the middle. My friend, Jeremy is on the left. He and I have been friends since kindergarten. His wife, Mary is on the left. Mary was a little afraid of us when she and Jeremy first started dating (we can be a bit loud and crazy) but we won her over. I enlist her help when ever something crafty, stampy, or artsy needs to be done. She's pretty darn good!

This is Darryl's Uncle Ken on the left and his Dad Neil on the right. Ken and his wife Jane came up from Massachusets for the party.

Lila Grace. Done, tired, finito. She woke up with a cold that morning but was a trooper all day. She didn't complain at all. This was as we were packing up the car to go home and she was pooped out.

I had the party at the Surry Town Hall. Behind the hall was a very cool, very old cemetary. Some of the headstones date back to the 1700's!

One of the coolest ones was for Ichabod Crain, the main character in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow story. As legend has it, that story was based on true events. Ichabod was so scared by all that happened, he and his family moved to from NY to NH. He owned and operated a general store until he died. Several years ago the town replaced the headstone with his full name on it to prevent tourist. As I said, some of the stones are hundreds of years old and they were worried about them being ruined. If you google Ichabod Crain, you can find a picture of the original stone.

Some of the headstones from the 1700's were very poetic. The were all hand carved on thin sheets of slate. You could even see the lines they carved in them to keep the letters straight. You can see on this one was missing the Jr. so someone had to add it in. Here's the poem in case you can't read it:

Behold and see as you pass by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now so you must be

Prepare for death and follow me

Some how, there are just no pictures of me from that day. Darn! Oh well, maybe at the next event.

Jennifer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days

2007-05-03T14:30:00.000-07:00

The day started off with spiders. I hate spiders. For some reason the house has been full of them lately. And not just the tiny little ones, or the dust ones, but the big fat-butted ones. My dad mowed our lawn recently. I think he scared them into the inside of the house. One jumped out of the dishwasher soap bucket while I was filling it and made me cry (seriously!). I told my husband we need to move.

There's a 1st grade teacher at Lila's school that many people are complaining about. "She's tough, she's mean, she's insensitive," they all keep saying. "Make sure Lila doesn't end up with her!" They keep telling me. So at PTA during the "questions, comments, and suggestions about our school" segment - I brought it up.
"What's going on with this teacher?" I asked. "I've been hearing a lot of complaints. I'm starting to get concerned for Lila next year."
*crickets chirping*
Did I mention almost every other parent on the board is a 1st grade parent? No one said a word. I felt like an ass. A giant, fat-butted spider ass.
The principal shot me down and said that PTA meetings were not a good place to discuss these matters, even though it's a parent-teacher organization and there's no other forum around to discuss this stuff. We moved on and I felt this big. Stupid parents. They left me twisting in the wind.

There was another spider in the living room before I went to bed. I kept one eye on American Idol and one eye on him. I left a note on the door for my husband to kill him. "Take no prisoners!" I said. And I meant it.

Violet and I had music class this morning. That went well, except for the fact that I was wearing socks with holes in them and we have to take our shoes off in class. I tried to hide the holes, but Violet kept saying "Look a big hole! And another one there too! Are there holes in your shirt too Mom?" Which there wasn't, but you know everyone was looking just to see if there was. They all looked like they got dressed right out of the Lands End catalog and the kids were all sporting Baby Gap. I had holes in my socks and Violet was rocking the Hand-Me-Down chic look. Oh, and she wouldn't let me brush her hair either. Then Violet kept plucking the teacher's guitar while she was playing a song. Nancy (she's the teacher. Very nice, lovely voice) had to keep flickingViolet's hand away. Oh, and there was that one incident when Violet got bored, pulled her pants up to her boobs and said "I look like Nanny!" Apparently Nanny needs some Lands End Lo-Rider Trousers.

When I got home from music class there was a message on the machine from a parent that was at last night's PTA meeting. I called her back and she gave a small chastising for bringing the subject up. "That's not really what I feel PTA should be about. I'm uncomfortable talking about a teacher behind her back." Did I mention she's one of the parents complaining? She did agree the subject needs to be discussed, but not there, and she has no idea where. She's a nice lady, very friendly and all, but I think she needs a spine. Can she get that at Lands End?

There was a spider over the bathroom door this morning. I had to kill it myself and I hate doing that. I also had to throw a stack of books at a big black ant, too.

Terrible. No Good. Very Bad.
An Alexander day

I don't look that good on paper.

2007-03-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I received in the mail a survey that this research company wanted me to take. I get them every once in awhile, but this one was special - it had ten bucks attached to it. Actual money, too. Not some dumb check I was going to forget to cash. Of course, I had to hand the money over to Jasmine so she and a friend could go get pizza, but that's beside the point.

It was one of the most mind numbing things I have ever done. This thing was 18 pages long and was in print this small. There were questions on every subject imaginable. What magazines I read, what airlines I like, what shows I watch, just everything. So after about 35 minutes with this thing I realized something. I don't look very good on paper. Out of a list of like 50 magazines, I subscribe to only three - Entertainment Weekly, Glamour, and Martha Stewart. I couldn't even say I'd seen a Baron's Magazine or a New Yorker in the last twelve months. I was proud to say that I had seen Gourmet Magazine. It was at the dentist office, but it counts.

I bombed completely at the airlines portion of the survey. There were two pages of airlines and I had to check boxes for which ones I'd flown on in the last 12 months. I had no idea there were that many airlines out there. If pressed, I may be able to come up with five names, but two pages worth? I had to check the soul sucking "I haven't been anywhere that can't be driven on a tank of gas, therefore I have not flown on any of these airlines" box. Pathetic, really.

The TV portion didn't make me feel much better. Two more pages of stations and the task of ranking - a. which ones I recieve and b. of the ones I receive, how many hours in a seven day week do I watch them. We get MSNBC, and I do watch it. But I watch DIY way more. We also get CNN, and I do watch that, too. However, I watch The Food Network WAY more.

So if all that wasn't bad enough, along came the finacial section. Do I bring in an income? No. Do I work outside the home? No. Do I regularly trade in the stock market? No. Do I have a personal Broker? No. How many IRAs do I have? Do I prefer municipal bonds over blah blah blah.... Technically, I do have some part time work. But it's hours are so few, and the money so meager that they didn't have a bracket for me. I had to answer no.

In the end, I was reduced to a no job, no income woman who's interests fall squarely on entertainment media and home repair. I don't travel, I don't trade stocks, and I watch more entertainment than hard core news. Pretty sad.

Then I got to thinking, they just weren't asking me the right questions. I could have come out on top if they asked things like -

In the past 12 months, how much bodily fluid (in liquid ounces) have you cleaned up that did not belong to you?

Have you done any laundry in the past 12 months, and of those loads how many were really nasty?

Have you successfully potty trained another human being? *Yes! All hats are safe!*

Have you taught a preteen how to correctly use a tampon?

In the hundreds, how many chocolate chip cookies have you made for school functions?

In the last 12 months, have you ever had to go to the grocery store more than 3 times in the same 24 hour period?

At Christmas time did you make fleece socks for every one of your daughter's elementary school teachers?

You can see where I'm going with this. I may not have been reading Barron's all year and spending quality time with my stock portfolio, but I have been useful.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

What have you done in the past twelve months?

Baby girl gets right to the point.

2007-03-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

*Smack, smack, smack*
"Mama, you've got a big boob. Why I don't have a big boob?"

Oh God help me.

"Well, when you're bigger girl, someday, you will have big boobs, er, bigger boobs. Not necessarily BIG boobs" What the hell did I just say??

*Tickle, tickle,tickle*
"Hahaha! I just tickled your big boob, Mama! Laugh! Hahaha!"

"Violet, my boobs are private. You don't tickle-"

*Kiss, Kiss*
"I kissed you big boob. You're my best Momma!"

" *sigh* I love you too, baby."

Motherhood- The place where embarassment and adoration meet to kick your dignity out the window.

Back from the depths of despair.

2007-03-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

Where have I gone? I feel like I've disappeared in a haze of snotty tissues, empty Tylenol bottles, and puke soaked blankets. The last half of February was rough, to say the least. Winter break came around and all three kids were sick. And boy, were they ever sick. I'll spare the gory details. Anyone with kids really does not need to be told the disgusting details of a stomach virus and a cold virus. If you don't have kids and you still want to know, call your mom. Better yet, call your mom and thank her for being able to wipe your nether regions as well as your nose, all while singing children's songs to keep you from crying. Go ahead, call her. I'll wait.

It's been about three weeks or so and we seem to be coming around the bend now. The noses have pretty much dried and the all the bedding has been washed. I just feel like I haven't seen the light of day in years. That's why I decided that I'm going out tomorrow night. Sitters have been informed and friends have been invited to join in. Truthfully, I'm going whether the friends come or not. I love the kids whole-heartedly, but I am a might bit sick of them. I need a couple of hours away. And I am SO looking forward to some one else cooking dinner, clearing away the dishes and cleaning the mess.

We are on the upswing, though. Violet has pretty much potty trained. There was that unfortunate incident yesterday while her aunt was watching her. The result of too much cheese and a few too many bananas. Sorry about that, Tammy. For the most part it has been ok. And the weather this week was so nice. We were able to take several long walks. One of which was so good that Violet fell asleep at 6:30pm and stayed that way until 7:30 the next morning! Heaven on earth, people. Heaven on earth.

So we seem to have joined the land of the living again. Antics will resume, and I'll be able to record them for posterity. It's nice to be back.

Atleast she's trying

2007-02-01T10:01:00.000-08:00

This morning before school

Lila- "Momma, Violet is saying a bad word!"

Violet- "Friggin' Steaks!"

Me- "Violet, babe, it's For Goodness Sakes - not Friggin Steaks."

Violet- "Yeah! Friggin Steaks!"

*sigh*

Sometimes I am.....

2007-01-31T21:55:00.000-08:00

An Embarrassing mom:

We have very little time on Tuesdays to get from school to the YMCA for swim lessons. This situation is not helped any by Lila being the classic Pokey Little Puppy. In the changing stall at the Y, I try not to nag at her to hurry along, I just helpfully suggest what she needs to do next. "Ok babe," I tell her "Take off your pants."

"I know, I know.." She says and gives me a little look. The pants come off and she hands them to me.

"Ok, now the shirt kiddo."

"I know." She sounds a little irritated and I can't figure out why. I'm being nice, I'm not nagging at all.

"Ok, now hand me the underwear baby." I say nice and sweet.

"Momma! Stop! People can hear you. You don't have to say -that- out loud!"

"What? Oh, sorry Li. I was just trying to move it along some."

"It's ok. Just sit quietly. I know what to do." She tells me.

"Ok."

Sometimes I am....

A bad influence:

Today we were standing in line at the Post Office and Violet spotted these little plastic mail boxes that you can buy to put your stamps in. She loves the darn things and begs for one every time we go to the post office.

Her-"Ooooh, Momma, can we buy this?" She yanks it off the shelf.

Me- "Not today, baby." I tell her and put it back.

Her- "Dammit!"

Three customers turn full around to stare at me, which I can't understand because I didn't use the profanity. The teller didn't even look up. She's seen us in there before.

Sometimes I am.....

Very Proud:

Jasmine was waiting for me to pick her up from school today. She was sitting in the breeze way at the front of the school with a couple of boys. One of the boys, an eighth grader, starting picking on a sixth grader who was mentally challenged. The bully went up to the younger kid, ripped a ski tag off of his coat and tore it up. He kept picking on the boy who, Jasmine said, was trying hard not to cry.

"Hey!" my daughter yelled "Stop being a friggin' bastard! Leave him alone!"

"Yeah, make me!" The bully yelled back.

Jasmine stood up from the stairs she was sitting on. My five foot six inch daughter towered over the little prick.

He promptly sat down and shut up.

Biology or not, that's my girl.

The End of Things As I Knew Them

2007-01-23T13:45:00.000-08:00

Life, my friends, is all about change. That fact seems to ring especially true when you have small children at home. They take leaps and bounds in their lives every day, so change can be seen more frequently.

Recently, due to my small child, my life has changed exponetially. The change happened fast and has left me saddened and bewildered. My life will never quite be the same and some how I will have to find the courage and strength to go on.

You see, baby girl will no longer take a nap.

I've tried and still she can't be swayed. She began by coming out of her room and simply stating that she wasn't the least bit tired. I would quickly usher her back in and tell her she really was tired. So tired, in fact, that she wasn't thinking straight and should really get some sleep. This worked once. Maybe twice. Darling Violet is the clever sort and cannot easily be detered. She has found a new tact to nap avoidance that has worked quite well. She poops herself out of it.

Every day I put her down for the nap, she kisses me, and lays down nicely. 15 minutes later, she's at the top of the stairs proclaiming a full diaper that needs immediate changing. "It's gross Momma. And stinky. I need a new one please!" She yells so sweetly.

It's a pretty good trick. I haven't been able to find a way around this one. Any parent can tell you that this is one area that the kiddos are pretty much in control of. They say when, they say where, and they say how much.

I'd like to be able to say that I used nap time to be productive. That nap time is when I cleaned all the dust balls from behind the fridge and organized everyone's sock drawers. I'd like to tell you that. And maybe if fewer people who actually knew me read this blog, I'd be able to pull that story off. The real truth is that nap time was actually my free period. Choice time, as they say in kindergarten. I ate lunch in peace, I watched shows I recorded the night before, I read magazines. Lots and lots of magazines. Nap time was my time. Not that a mom's time is ever really her own, but this was as close as I got to it. And I shall miss it desperately.

I knew deep down that it wasn't going to last forever. Yet, I mourn it just the same. Bow your heads, my friends, and join me in a moment of silence. It just may be my last.

Conversations with Violet

2006-12-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

Early Saturday morning, I just woke up and was on my way to the bathroom-

Violet: Mama, can I do Arts and Craps?

Me: Not now Violey.

V: Awwww! Can I paint?

Me: Maybe later.

V: Awww! Dammit!

Later that morning when the TV was going fuzzy-

V: Dammit! Stupid TV! Dammit!

Me: Violet, don't say dammit and stupid. They're not friendly words. Say silly TV.

V: Dammit! Silly TV!

Me: Close....

Yesterday, after I stubbed and broke my toe-

V: Oooh! Mama you're toe is blue! That's so pretty. Can I have a purple toe? Can I paint my toe purple?

Also yesterday, when her nose would not stop running-

V: Dammit! Stupid nose is running!

Me: I'm sensing a pattern here...Violet, use this tissue.

V: No thanks. I have my shirt (lifts shirt tail and wipes face).

Me: At least it wasn't my shirt.

2006-12-13T10:30:00.000-08:00

When my husband and I got our oldest daughter, she was close to three and a half and still wearing diapers. Potty training her took a whole two days. She was so ready for it, it came as a relief to her (no pun intended) to get rid of the diapers.

With our second daughter, we had to start from scratch. Lila was about 18 months or so when I introduced the potty chair. She was very receptive. I kept the potty chair in the living room and put underwear on her. When Lila needed to go, she'd see the potty chair was close and go right in it. She was trained by 2 years old. Sure, there were accidents and the night time training took longer, but she has always been pretty easy to deal with.

Violet is proving to be a little trickier. She is now two and half and not ready yet. My previous little tricks and rewards don't seem to have much of an impression on her. She can't be bribed with a sticker, a candy, or much else really. Oh, she has a full understanding of the concept. She'll strip naked, head to the bathroom, and climb on the toilet whenever she wants to. The key here is - whenever she wants to. She is still very much in control of this subject right now. And that's ok with me. I'm not really going to push her. It seems that forcing the issue just creates phobias and I don't want that.

My problem is that Violet has this little issue. She likes to pee in things that are not necessarily her potty chair. Like the lid to board game, or a plastic cup from the kitchen set. Or most recently this morning, her sister's velvet lined treasure box. She is always very proud of herself afterwards and brings the offended object to me. "Look Mama! I peed!" Maybe I've been too encouraging. "Good girl!" I'll tell her "But we don't pee in empty crayon boxes, only the potty."

Honestly, I don't know what to do. This morning when she brought me her sister's velvet lined treasure box she told me she had a present for me. Thankfully, I saw the box was leaking out the bottom before she could set it in my lap. "What is this present?" I asked her while I held it at arms length so it wouldn't leak on my pants. I was pretty sure it was juice or possibly a stray soda.

"I peed!" she jumped up and down and clapped.

She is so gross.

I did put her in a time out while I cleaned up the leaky mess from my floor. Maybe she'll get the message this time. Maybe not. Until then, I wouldn't leave your drinks or hats unattended in my house.

Salty Language & Christmas Joy

2006-12-04T08:25:00.000-08:00

Another christmas season brings yet another search for the coveted toy that no store carries. Last year it was the Dream Life game for Jasmine. She really wanted this video game and we really wanted to give it to her. So, of course, when we saw it several weeks before christmas we said "We'll have to make sure we come back and pick that up for her." Yeah, we're fucking idiots. The game sold out and was no where to be found. I started monitoring internet sites that sold it. I checked them two or three times a day to see if the game was in stock. One did finally pop up five days before christmas. The only way to guarantee a christmas delivery was to have it overnighted. My mom forked over her credit card and Jasmine had the game christmas morning - for three times what it sells for in stores right now.

Ah well. She was happy and my mom was happy to give it to her. The story ends well.

And it begins again. Violet is desperate for the Baby Alive doll. It's all she asks for when the subject of christmas is brought up. I'm fairly certain that Violet's interest in this doll stems from the fact the thing poops. I could fool myself into believing that she has some deep-seated mother instincts that really need an outlet to display, but I know the truth. The baby poops and Violet wants to be there when she does. She wants to hold her nose and scream "Ewwww!" and poke at the poop and make the baby do it all again. She's gross like that. But still, she wants it and I want her to have it.

The world, it seems, does not.

I can't find this freakin' doll anywhere. All the heavy hitters (Toys R Us, Target, Walmart) are out of stock. I checked some of the other toy sites out there and everyone is backordered until after Christmas. I did find a couple of Hispanic and African American ones out there, but she has her heart set on the blonde girl (yeah, yeah, take your racist rants elsewhere. She's two. I'll save the cultural equality lesson for the Fisher Price School Bus. There's a black kid and a handicapped kid on that ride). Of course we do have some options out there if we get desperate enough. Amazon.com has a few of the tow headed beauties. And in the spirit of Christmas they have jacked the price up to only $120. Generous to a fault, aren't they? And there's always Ebay where the really desperate are buying up the babies for just as much.

If I even think of spending that much someone needs to hit me over the head with a Tickle Me Elmo TMX.

**UPDATE** Walmart.com had a few in stock for $34.77! I ordered two - one for Violet & Lila. The order has yet to ship, and they are now back to being out of stock. Keep your fingers crossed for me, I'd like to come through this without resorting to drinking heavily.

And just in case anyone was wondering....

2006-11-08T10:48:00.000-08:00

Lila was able to find a couple of things she liked in the Target Holiday Toy Catalog.

I gave her a whole pack of posties, she gave me one back.

Hey! Hey! PTA!

2006-11-08T00:35:00.000-08:00

It constantly amazes me how quickly time flies. Christmas in literally around the corner and Lila's birthday follows that quite soon after. We've completely knocked out two full months of school and Thanksgiving Break is in a couple of weeks. And to top it all off, I joined the PTA.

I tried joining the PTA several years ago when Jasmine was in elementary school. I very soon realised that PTA was a cover for bitchy women who like to be in charge and control everything. The same three women ran the group for years. They did all the major work and took all the major credit. The only reason they ever wanted any other moms to help was if they needed fresh blood to man the bake sale table on those peak hours when no one good would see them. None of the three liked to relinquish control of any project. They never needed help, or atleast never admitted that they did. They secluded themselves in a patheon of raffles and holiday events, fundraisers and bookfairs. They called the Principal by her first name when the rest of us were still saying "Good Morning Mrs. Mitchell". And then something amazing happened. Their kids grew up and left elementary school. That left the PTA in quite a lurch. Only one of the Holy Trinity remained and she couldn't possibly do every activity by herself. Or could she?

Well, she gave it a go. She organized and ran every event by herself last year. She did ask for volunteers, but she never allowed them to actually do anything. One event in particular stands out in my mind. It was a Teacher Appreciation Luncheon. She scheduled seven of us to come in and set up. We were allowed to open the package of napkins and wrap some plastic silverware into them. She wanted to fill the mini sandwiches, she had a vision for the table placement, only she knew how to pour gingerale into the punch bowl at the exact right angle. I heard one woman mutter "I took a half day off of work for this? I run an office for christ sake. I can fill an egg salad sandwich."

The luncheon came off lovely, but the same can't be said for the PTA Queen. Soon after this event, she dropped out of the PTA. Her marriage was in shambles (drinking, cheating) and she could no longer handle the stress of the PTA.

And that's where the rest of us step in. We have a new President (a dad!) who is very into parlimentary proceedure, and we all get to help out where we are needed. No one really seems interested in taking over every event. I am on a few more committees than I thought I would be, but I don't work full time, so I felt obligated to help a little more. It's nice to be at the school and be involved.

And, guess who's using the Principal's first name now?

My Little Angel

2006-09-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

We were playing on the playground after school. Lila was making brave attempts to swing from the rings while Violet and I dug in the dirt and watched her. It was a nice afternoon. Not too cool, warm sun, just lovely. Then I heard this little girl yell "Hey! That's her! Right there digging! That's the girl that threw a chair at me!" The Playground Moms shot their heads up, ripped from their conversation about chardonney and workout schedules to see who was the offender. Or better yet, who was her mom. Shit, I'm thinking, now we've got to change schools.

About a month ago my niece had a birthday party. She was turning six and her mom had invited something like twenty five people to the party (yeah, crazy bitch, I know). It was a fun day. The kids played in the kiddie pools and ran around wild. A few of the quieter kids went upstairs and played in the birthday girl's room. That worked out well - for awhile.

We were a couple of hours into the party and I was helping pass out the gifts. I'm standing there with a Barbie shaped box in one hand, the piece of paper I was writing down all the gifts on in the other hand, and had one foot holding the little nose miners away from the loot when we heard this collective scream. Suddenly, a group of six year old girls came running down the stairs and out on to the front porch. One of the little darlings was yelling that there was a little girl, a toddler, upstairs that was being mean . "She threw a chair at me!" She said with quite the dramatic flair. "Honey," said her mom "Are you sure it was a toddler that did that?" She was holding her daughter and stroking her hair. "Yes! She's right there!" She pointed her finger towards the house and up the stairs.

My two year old daughter was standing at the top of the stairs looking down at everyone.

In her defense, they were mean first. From what I could gather the girls had decided that they didn't want to play with a baby and had tried to kick Violet out of the room. Violet, the meek little sweetie, didn't care for this turn of events. When she tried to push her way back in, they pushed her out. So she did the only thing she could think of, which was pick up a wooden chair and fling it at them. It was just a small chair, you know, kid size. But it certainly got her point across which I think was "Don't push me bitch or I'll fuck you up!"

Now, I don't condone violence and I certainly don't want Violet to be a bully, but I will admit that I take a small amount of pride in the fact that my twenty five pound two year old can hold her own against a group of six year old girls. It makes me envision a time when the girls are older and someone is being mean to Lila. I can see scrappy little Violet pushing up her sleeves and daring someone to tease her sister one more time.

All three of my girls are cut from a different cloth. Jasmine was always the social butterfly. She was, and is, friends with everyone. A chatterbox that liked being in the middle of it all. Lila is more reserved. She's the quiet one who prefers a few close friends than running in the middle of a big group. She's sensitive. And then there's Violet. She was climbing up the couch at five months. She pulled hair with such force that I was certain Lila would be bald before she entered Kingergarten. Violet knew no limits as a baby. She climbed on to the counters, up the stairs, over anything in her way. She grasped her language skills pretty early on and is now a prime teaser. It's not unusual to hear her march through the house singing "Jeza Christ I dry momma nuts!". She is also very loving. We have to stop at every baby we see so she can coo about how cute they are. I love her passion, but not everyone will. We need to walk that fine line between fiesty and down right obnoxious.

The little girl ran over to where we were sitting in the dirt. "Do you remember at Wendy's birthday party when she threw a chair at me!" She was standing with her little hands on her hips and her brow furrowed. Violet looked up at her, but went back to scrapping a wide gouge through the sand with a stick. I stood up and brushed myself off. "Yes, Isabella, I remember that day quite well." I told her and put my arm around her shoulder "That wasn't very nice of Violet to do that and I'm sorry. Next time, try playing with her. She can be quite fun." Isabella looked down at Violet, who was lining acorns along the edges of the hole she had made, then ran off. The Playground Moms looked at me for a minute, but soon huddled back up. Something tells me this escapade won't help me break into their click anytime soon.

When we got home, the girls starting fighting over a toy. Violet ripped her shoe off her foot and threw it at Lila. It hit her square in the head. "Did you see that, Momma?" Lila asked me increduously. "I did." I told her. "I'll make her apologize. That wasn't very nice."

But it was a damn good shot.

I can't fight that feeling....

2006-09-22T22:45:00.000-07:00

Home from the dance, Jasmine shares some precious Middle School insights with us.

Jasmine: "Samantha told me some personal stuff tonite. It was pretty gross."

Me: "Really? Like what?"

Jasmine: "Well, she wears a thong. And she puts it on backwards so she can get 'That Special Feeling'."

Me: "What?!"

Jasmine: "Yeah. She got In-School Suspension for showing someone the thong. Her mom wears one too, and they both have their own massagers."

Me: "Massagers. Do you mean vibrators?"

Jasmine: "Yeah, that. Kayla slept over there and saw her mother using the vibrator. She went to the bathroom in the night and the mother's bedroom door was open."

Me: "How, exactly, do you know what a vibrator is?"

Jasmine: "It was in a movie I saw. The girl turned it on and put it under the blanket so I pretty much figured it out."

Me: "Ok..."

Jasmine: "Samantha also says she's bi-sexual because she made out with a girl once. "

Me: "Did her mom buy her the vibrator or did she.."

Jasmine: "She probably bought it for her because they both like 'That Special Feeling'. Her mom has a ton of condoms in her room. Kayla saw them when she slept over."

Me: "Is Samantha still taking her meds?"

Jasmine: "Oh yeah."

Me: "Good."

No one said I had to make any sense.

2006-09-14T11:00:00.000-07:00

I am no fan of bugs. Anyone who knows me, knows that I hate them all. And spiders? Oh my god, let's not talk about spiders.

I knew that because Jasmine was entering the 7th grade this year that she would have a Bug Collection science project due. That's why I had her and my niece collect them over the summer. My niece is not afraid to pick up anything, especially the wimpy New England bugs. She lives in the south where there are camel back crickets and tarantulas in her yard. Yes, TARANTULAS in her YARD! The two of them made a good pair, trampsing through tall grass with empty margerine tubs and cream cheese containers. They got some good stuff. They even caught a couple of butterflies without a net.

That's where this whole mess starts. See, we haven't seen any Monarch caterpillars and butterflies in our town in years. Like 10 years. I'm not sure why that is, but every year there would be a plea from the elementary school teachers for some one to bring a caterpillar in to school. We'd search all over town, but never had any luck. Then we went to my sister in law's house a town over and the girls got their butterflies. At first, we were a little disgusted. "How could you! We haven't seen one of those in years!" we proclamed. That's when my sister in law said "Oh relax, there's hundreds of them out there." Turns out, she wasn't that far from the truth.

Next to her house is a field of milkweed and when my husband went searching through it, he came back with handfuls of monarch caterpillars. Well, we took a bunch home and he eventually built a hutch for them so we could watch them transform.
It's been a cool summer project seeing the little caterpillars grow, build a chrysalis and then setting the butterfly free. Violet loves to check the "kisslis" every morning to see if there are any new butterflies. Lila was the kindergarten teacher's joy when she brought a bunch of caterpillars to school.

Which brings us back to our current problem. Remember those butterflies Jasmine and my niece caught? They went moldy. Jazz has tried to catch another one, but no luck. We even went back to the milkweed field but there were none to be had. There was, however, a chrysalis that was ready to hatch on the side of the house. "Do you want to take this one home? It should be out by tomorrow." My sister in law suggested. She got a piece of dental floss and tied it around the silk patch and we took it home. It came out this morning and looks great. No deformities and it's nice and strong.

And there's no way we can freakin' kill it.

We just can't.

We have 10 that will be ready to come out tomorrow and we won't be able to grab one of those, put it in a plastic tub and put that in the freezer either.

I feel a little ridiculous. It's a bug, after all, and I'm supposed to hate those. For some reason it doesn't seem as bad to us to catch one that's flying around and freeze it versus watch one hatch, get strong, and then thrown in the cold to it's death next to our chicken nuggets and porkchops.

So I emailed her science teacher to ask how many points she's going to lose by not having the butterfly. I explained about our summer science project and how we don't have the heart to do it. Yes, I realize what an idiot I am. The teachers probably sit around their breakroom and have group readings of my silly, idealistic emails and laugh.

I'm cool with that.

Victory will be had

2006-09-07T11:43:00.000-07:00

This is an email I just sent to the principal of my daughter's middle school. Jasmine called me this morning to tell me that she did not make the field hockey team. She was disapointed, and so was I. The school sports are so competitive. They only want kids who have been playing the sports since toddler-hood. It's frustrating. Anyway, this one is much nicer than the original letter which simply stated -"Yo bitch! Stop dissin' my kid or I'll get my deuce-deuce and pop a cap in yo ass!"

Dear Principal,

I’m writing to you to discuss the team sport situation. My daughter, Jasmine is in 7th grade at your school. Just this week she tried out for girls Field Hockey. Much to her disappointment, and ours, she did not make the team. I understand that many kids try out for team sports at your school and not everyone can make the teams. My question is – Why not? It seems that the selection of athletes made for these sports are just that, competitive athletes. The teams are comprised of kids who have been playing organized sports for most of their childhood and are geared the best for winning. Where does that leave all the other students who’s skill levels are lower, but whose drive to be involved is just as great?

Jasmine informed me that any girl on the team in 6th grade automatically became a member of the team this year. While this seems like a great way to insure a winning team, it also just completely obliterated the other girls’ hopes of playing field hockey in the future. What chance does an 8th grade girl stand when trying out, knowing that the last two years worth of players are guaranteed a place on the team? The only thing this kind of approach guarantees for my daughter is that she won’t be playing field hockey at all in high school.

We all know that winning is the major focus of any sport. This edict is contradictory to the attitudes we try to foster in our kids. We tell our kids to get involved. We tell our kids to get off the couch and get moving. We tell them to have passion about things beyond themselves. And yet when they really try, they’re met with rejection because they have not been rehearsing these roles since pre-school. Field Hockey is not the only club that my daughter has tried out for. Basketball, Drama, and Show Choir also held similar fates for her. Faced with the challenge of trying out with kids who have been dribbling, singing, and acting since childhood, she didn’t stand much of a chance.

There were a few bright spots. Basketball had a “B” team of sorts. A team for kids who weren’t good enough to represent their school, but still wanted to play. The kids played in school clothes and street shoes and had fun. She also made a similar team for track. She was allowed to compete only at home meets, and in a category where the coach didn’t have a top notch player. She was not the fastest runner there. In one instance, she was even the slowest. But you what? That’s ok. She tried so hard. She made an effort, got involved and did her best. I can still picture the look on her face when she was finishing a grueling lap that she knew she had not won. She was utterly defeated. Then she heard our voices. Me, screaming like a maniac, telling her she could do it. Her friends cheering her name and clapping. Jasmine’s whole demeanor changed in that moment. She got that extra boost of pep and crossed the finish line. She’d lost the race, but won so much more.

The small chances that Jasmine has had to participate have really taught her a lot about herself. They have shown her the strength she has inside and what she can really accomplish when she tries. Those lessons are far more valuable than a winning pennant to hang in the gym. Please consider giving a chance to the motivated kids who want to be involved. You may not win any trophies, but victory will be had.

Sincerely,

Jenn

When Violet speaks...

2006-08-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

To the cat on the front porch:"toopid cat. Hi Bela!"

In the kitchen when the basket full of toys she's carrying spills: "Dammit!"

When it spills again: "Dammit toys!"

To her sister, after being banished from the kitchen, after three different breakfasts have been asked for, made, and then refused: *whimper* "Lila, momma hate me I no want peanut butta toast." *whimper*

Lila in response: "Oh Violet, she doesn't hate you. She just doesn't like you very much."

In the car: "Mama, I sirsty."
"Here's your water kiddo"
"I no want water. I want cuppa coffee"

To me, while I'm eating a bowl of cereal: "Mama, I stink!"
"Do you need a new diaper?"
"Yes, an it STINKS!"

At the grocery store tonight with grocery receipt in hand: "Lila dis is my money, not yo money. MY money. You not has it, it MY money!"

Bagger: "Boy, she talks real well for her age. Most kids that age, you can't even understand them but I heard every word of that!"

Me: "Yeah. We're proud. Violet! Leave Lila alone!"

V: "It MINE, not yo money!"

I am such a idiot

2006-08-22T09:45:00.000-07:00

I have become such a wimp since I had kids. Some things that never bothered before, things that wouldn't even give me pause a few years ago, are just too much now. Like amusement rides. I was the queen of those. Flipping, spinning, flying through the air with no more than a canvas strap and a carnie's approval for safety was no problem. Now? I have an irrational fear that I'll be killed and my kids will be motherless. Plus, they make me a little ill. I was also the horror movie fanatic. Guts, gore, ghosts with an agenda - bring 'em on! Now? I still say bring it on, but it's a little more meek and spoken through a good sturdy pillow. My husband sometimes looks at me in disgust and says "Where did my fearless girlfriend go?" You married her, pal. And worse yet, you kicked her hormones into gear by getting her pregnant a couple of times.

So we're at the mall yesterday and my oldest decides that she wants to get her ears pierced for a second time. She's twelve, she has her own money, so why not? We get in line behind this woman and her family. I noticed that the woman filling out the paperwork already has pierced ears. I look at her two year old and her ears are pierced, too. The husband doesn't really look the part, so I check out the stroller. Sure enough the cute and chubby little baby's ears are not pierced. My stomach starts to feel a little sick and I tell Jasmine maybe we should do this at home. We start to walk away and Jasmine is clearly disappointed. "Do you really want to have this done?" I ask her. "Yes, I really do" she tells me, so we head back to the kiosk.

By now, the woman has paid the fee and is getting the baby out of the stroller. "I've got to get my husband to hold her because she is gonna squirm." She tells me. The husband takes the baby inside the booth and I start thinking Shit, they're really going to do this. Baby is all smiles while the nice girl in the booth makes little marker points on her ears. Then she loads the gun and says "Ready?" to the dad. I can't look away. I know that baby is going to scream and I can't look away. She squeezes the gun and I feel my breath catch. At first, there's no noise, and for a second I think she's going to be one of those babies that just doesn't cry at this stuff. Then I see her little leg go stiff and she screams. And I start crying. I just couldn't help it. I know, I'm such a idiot. I turned away, but the damage was done. The baby's mom had already seen me.

"She'll be over it in five minutes, you know." she told me. You could hear the defensiveness in her voice.

"Oh, I know, I know. She looks so cute. Good job, baby!" I try to smile as I wipe my eyes. They loaded the kids back in the stroller and walk away. I can see the mom's furrowed brow as she heads down the hall. I feel guilty.

"I think I made her feel bad." I say to my husband.

"Ya think?" He says. "Her baby's ears were pierced and you cried."

I don't even have a problem with piercing kids ears. It's not a choice I would make for my baby, but there's nothing wrong with it. In fact, it looks very cute. I have just become an incredible pussy about certain things. And babies in pain is one of them. I cried at every immunization when the girls were babies. The nurse would pick up the empty syringes and look at me and say "Are you going to be ok?"

Jasmine was up next and she was nervous. "That kid screamed. It must have hurt. I hope I don't cry like that."

"You do, and I'll laugh at you." I tell her, trying to lighten her mood.

"Oh sure, you'll cry at a stranger's kid..." It was over with in a minute and she didn't feel a thing.

chastitybelts.com That's all I've got to say.

2006-07-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

There was an article in our local paper about a convicted sex offender that was just arrested for coaching a children's softball league. Deeper into the article it tells you that this man was arrested when he was 18 for having sex with an under age girl. He claims it was consensual and the article never states how old the girl was at the time. But because he was arrested for statutory rape, this man is considered a sex offender and cannot take jobs that involve children. A fact that escaped his mind when he signed up to coach his twelve year old daughter's softball league. I don't know how his arrest record came to light, but this man now fears that his kids will be tormented unmercifully about a decision he made as a teenager.

I'm not claiming to have any anwers here. This slope is more slippery than one paved with grease and covered in oil. But the subject of teenagers and their boyfriends has recently entered my world and it's a scary place to be.

Before school ended, one of Jasmine's friends moved to the next town over. She never said goodbye, never called, and didn't return calls either. We just assumed she had moved on and that relationship was done. Yesterday, she called. Her mom had to work the night shift as a nurse and wanted her to sleep over our house. Jasmine was thrilled at the idea. Jazz got off the phone and said that her friend wanted to be picked up at 5pm.
"Why 5? Doesn't her mom go to work at 2?" I asked.
"Yeah, but she's going to hang out with her boyfriend and do chores until then."

This 14 year old girl's boyfriend is 17. And her mom thought it was fine that they spend several hours alone together.
"He's really sweet and her mom totally trusts them together." Jasmine told me.

He could be the Pope's godson but he still wants to have sex with her daughter."Yup," my husband agreed "And if they're left alone long enough, he will too."

I tend to have more of a Flying Nun attitude with my girls (you want to soar around and see the sights? Great! Just wear a long black dress and remember the Mother Superior while you do it.) but there seems no point in setting them up for failure. A three year age difference is nothing when you are 19 and 22, or 30 and 33. Hell, with adults, I could not care less what the ages are. You go Anna Nicole! If you want to ride the wheelchair of some 90 year old guy so you can have his share of the pie when he's gone, more power to you. But 14 and 17 is a marked difference. If memory serves teenage boys are horn dogs ("True, very true" my husband agrees again) and chances are the 17 year old has had some more experience than his younger counterparts. Why would you want to put your daughter in a situation were she has to make the really tough choices about her behavior with a boy she likes and doesn't want to dissapoint?

Maybe he's a nice boy. I don't know because she wouldn't let me in the door to meet him. Jasmine met him. She told me later that night that when she and her friend ran back inside for her pocketbook, the boyfriend was still there.
"He's cute. And really nice." She told me.
"That's nice, I'm glad." I said "But 12 and 17 is an inappropriate age difference and I don't want you to spend any time with him." She nodded. She knows our rules and how her father and I feel about this subject.

So I don't have any real answers. Should the 40 year old who had sex as a teenager, with another teenager, be allowed to coach his daughter's softball league? Probably. The bigger issue seems that teenagers can't really understand the consequences of their actions and how it will affect their futures. One sweaty, 2 minute interlude in the back of your Honda Civic will embarass your future child and have her friend's parents calling you a sex offender. Not fair? Welcome to life, kiddo.

American Girl Dolls and Lipgloss -Great! Building full of dead things- Not so much.

2006-07-16T22:43:00.000-07:00

This summer we are going to be taking a couple of day trips to fun places instead of our usual trip to York Beach, Maine. We love the beach desperately, but it's so expensive. We also sent our oldest daughter camping for a week and that depleted quite a bit of our vacation money. Oh well, she had fun and that's all that counts.

For our first trip, we took the two little girls and my mom to the Peabody Natural History Museum at Yale University. When I was a little girl we would visit my aunt and uncle in New Haven Connecticut and occasionally go to the museum. I always loved it. They have dinosaurs, mummies, and all kids of different Egyptian and Native American artifacts. I just thought it was so cool. I was sure the girls would have a good time there.

Violet did love it. She ran through the whole place just racing from exhibit to exhibit yelling "Look! Dinasohs! Rooaarr!!" It was cute, until I looked up from the Camptosaurus plaque and saw her climbing into the area with the dinosaur bones. Christ kid, I can't put that reconstruction bill on my credit card.

Lila, however, did not have as good a time. It seems that, from a five year old girl's perspective, a building full of skeletons, dead animals, and mummies is not so much interesting as it is creepy. She spent the afternoon being simultaneously petrified at everything she saw and horrified that her parents had brought her there. I felt really bad about that. I still do. This is, afterall, her vacation time too and I terribly misjudged what her idea of fun and interesting is. I guess that I just have such fond memories of visiting the Peabody that I wanted that for her. The only vacations we ever took as a kid were to New Haven to see family and a few trips to the museum. I can remember savoring every sight. The shrunken head, the mummy in her glass case (still wearing her bracelets!), and the dinosaurs! I was always so amazed that there were actual dinosaur remains within a few feet of me. But as much as Lila is like me, this was just not her bag, baby. Maybe we'll try again in a couple of years and maybe she'll like it better. And maybe she won't. That will be ok, too. There's always the gift shop. That's one part of the place she did enjoy. I bought her a lovely and soft stuffed Triceratops for a whopping $20. Ouch.

I'm thinking about the New England Aquarium in Boston for our next trip. I will be sure to show her the website first, because I really want her to have fun. And if all else fails, there is always a trip to the mall for this.

Lila and the skeleton of a 1.6 million year old Homo Erectus. The plaque says it was most likely an 8 year old boy. She was not impressed.

Lila and the largest Sea Turtle ever caught. That thing was frickin huge!

The mummified remains of an Egyptian female. These have been at the museum since I was a kid.

Violet & Lila & the T-Rex head.

Lila and the baby Camptosaurus. There was a bigger one behind this one.

The first day of school

2006-07-11T10:30:00.000-07:00

Lila had her first day of summer preschool today. It's just a small, 3 day a week program. Nothing to educational, it's really just to keep the kids in the swing of going to school. Some times a long summer break can make it even harder to go back to school. Especially for a shy kid, and Lila is definitely that. So Violet and I walked her into the classroom and stayed for a few minutes to play. When it was time to go, I dragged Violet out kicking and screaming and looked back at Lila. She had that look on her face like she was trying very hard to not cry. "My brave baby girl" I thought and got the hell out of there.

I'm not a cold hearted bitch you know, I've just been through this before. Two years ago, when Lila was three, she started this preschool program. I was as nervous as I could be. I couldn't get the teacher I wanted so Lila had to go in Joe's class. Joe is a great preschool teacher, but for a little girl who had only been taken care of by her mom and her Grandmother, a man teacher was going to be tricky. The first day of school came and Lila seemed eager to go to school. Her cousin Wendy was going to be in her class and that made her happy. So we got there, checked out the room and played for a bit. I finally got up and said it was time to go. I gave Lila a quick kiss and headed for the door. I was three feet away when the screaming started.

I don't know about your kids, but when Lila starts screaming or crying real hard, she throws up. So when I turned around and saw her starting to gag, I rushed over to calm her down before she could puke up her breakfast. Long story short, I spent the afternoon in the hallway outside the preschool room while Lila cried and ran to me every few minutes.

The next day, Lila was transferred to Cindy's class because Joe thought she would be more comfortable there (which is what her mother said, but what do I know?). They also separated Lila and Wendy because if one started to cry so did the other. We walked into Cindy's class and when it was time for me to leave Lila started crying but this time I couldn't comfort her and she threw up in my hands. I'm not a religious girl, but god bless those teachers. One brought me the trash can and some paper towels and said "Clean up your hands and just leave. She'll fine, really." So that's what I did. I left her there in the care of her teachers. As I was walking down the hallway I could hear Lila screaming "I WANT YOU TO FIND MY MOM!!" . I started crying and turned to run back to the classroom when another mom stopped me.

"Is that your little girl in there?" She asked me. She put her hand on my arm and slowly turned me around.

"Yes, " I said through sobs. "I really need to get back in there." I was trying not to cry. I felt like this wonderful combination of complete idiot and horrible mother all at once.

"My son had a hard time the first day, too." She said as she guided me down the hallway. "She'll be fine. The teachers here are great. She'll settle in in a few minutes. Is she your first?" The whole time she was talking to me, this mom was leading me farther away from the classroom and towards the door.

"Uh, no." I sniffed "She's,uh,I have three. But I'm a stay at home mom and Lila's never been taken care of by anyone but me. I should just check her." By now we were outside the school building.

"I think she's ok by now. Enjoy your couple of hours of freedom, it will go by fast."
We said goodbye and I walked home. When I got home I bawled like a baby. I felt so bad for leaving her there, but we had to start somewhere. If she didn't get used to this now, I'd never get her off to kindergarten.

Pretty soon the two and half hours were up and I went back for Lila. I was convinced that I'd find her in a blubbering pile on the school room floor, covered in her own vomit and screaming my name. In fact, she was standing in line with the other kids, back pack on, ready to file out the door. She made it. She was definitely tired out, but had made it just the same. I tried not to cry when she came through the door and ran to me.

That was not the last difficult day. Actually the first month was hard. The first two weeks were her crying and puking in my hands or the trash can.I'd clean us up and say goodbye, she'd walk away with her head down and settle into an activity. Oh, and lets not forget the day her nice teacher Beth crounched down and gave Lila a hug as she cried. Lila promptly threw up rice krispies in her cleavage. I scooted out the door and got the hell outta Dodge on that day.

But it got better. Every day, a little more. Pretty soon there was no crying at all. She always would rather be home with me, or course. But she had resigned herself to the fact that she had to go, so she did her best.

So that is why, when she gives me that look, the flat smile, eyes welling up a bit, a look that just screams "I'm nervous, meeting new kids is hard for me." I just smile back and leave as quickly as possible. My baby girl can do things with out me just fine. She's learning just how strong she really is.

And to that mom, the one who guided me ever so gently through the door and into Lila's independance - thanks.

Migraine and more rain.

2006-06-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

Waking up with a migraine sucks. I knew before I even opened my eyes in the morning that I had one. My dreams were full of weird scenarios of pain and head injury. I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to pour cold water over my face. It provided some relief, but only for a moment. For anyone who has never had a migraine, I'm not sure my words can do it justice. It's not mearly a headache, but a naseaous, painfilled trip. All the normal things make it hurt worse. The sound of the tv, the smell of, well, anything. That, of course, will start the vomiting, but nobody wants to hear about that. It's a pretty shitty way to start the day.

I had to get the girls to swim lessons , so I took a long, very hot shower and got them there only a few minutes late. We may have been on time, but did you ever notice how little girls can never just walk to the car and get in? They have to twirl and skip to the car. They have to stop for every dandelion and beetle (EEEW! A BUG! LOOK MAMA!). They can't possible open the car door and get in with out jumping and missing and falling and noticing more bugs and flowers while they're on the ground. And just when you're totally about to lose your mind, they hand you some ratty little buttercup with practically no stem and say "This is for you Mama. Isn't it pretty?" Oy. Normally it would all be very cute and lovely, but today- not so much.

It was steamy and miserable out. I was standing there watching Lila practice kicking. She's a little shy and the teacher kept asking her if she wanted to try kicking across the shallow end with a noodle. Lila would shake her head no and just hold the edge. "She's never going to do it if you don't make her!" I wanted to scream. But I didn't. I decided instead to drink my Diet Pepsi and eat a few crackers. It helped me some. Pretty soon Lila's class was done and it was Jasmine's turn to practice diving. Lila and I sat and ate crackers and alternated between watching Jasmine and the baby swim class. The babies were so darn cute. I used to take Lila to the same class.

The rest of the afternoon was kind of a waste. The migraine had abated some(after copius amounts of advil), but not enought to make me feel anything but worthless. The girls splashed in the kiddie pool for awhile, but then it started to thunder and rain. We are so sick of the rain, I can't even tell you. We've exhausted our paint and glue stick supply. My house now has more original works of art than MOMA.

It rained on and off for the rest of the day. When it was all done for the night there was such a cool breeze. It was refreshing and my head started to hurt less and less. We went outside and found a beautiful rainbow.

I'm hoping today to get to the playground. These kids need to run and play and get dirty. With any luck it won't rain tonite and we'll be able to have a T-Ball game. My husband is the luckiest damn T-Ball coach ever. We've only had a handfull of games in the month and a half season because of the rain. Mosquitos be damned, we could use an evening at the ball field. Cross your fingers for me!

Elizabeth

2006-06-14T23:20:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was one of the first nice days we've had around these parts in quite awhile. It seems that lately all it does is rain. The girls and I headed over to the playground in hopes of catching up with some friends for a playdate. When we got there, the only people there were a little girl and her dad. The girl was playing in a sand pile and was trying to get her dad to help her with the digger toy. Dad was too busy yelling into his cell to hear her.

"I don't care!" He yelled, "I said keep him away from her!" It seemed like a pretty heated debate. I got some sand toys from the car and sat down to dig with Violet. The little girl came over and stood next to me, eyeing the buckets and shovels.

"You're welcome to dig with us." I told her. She sat down and grabbed a bucket and her father yelled to her.

"Elizabeth! Come talk on the phone. It's your mother." He made little to no effort to hide the contempt in his voice.

Elizabeth chatted for a few minutes and then handed the phone back to her dad who was standing behind me. She came back to the sand toys and reached for a purple bucket. "Oh, don't use that bucket hon, that one is Violet's." I told her. The girl's mother heard me talking and dad started yelling into the phone again.

"I don't know who she is! There are other people at the playground you know! I AM NOT!!"

I can just imagine what the mother was saying on her end. After that exchange , dad dragged Elizabeth off to the swings. By now I had the gist of the conversation- Dad didn't like mom's new boyfriend and come hell or high water he was going to make sure that his daughter didn't have anything to do with this guy. The really sad part was Elizabeth knew what the conversation was about too. It was painfully obvious. Instead of enjoying his visit with her, he blew the time on an immature arguement. He may be justified in his complaints. I don't know, because I don't know these people . Maybe mom's new beau is a scabby drug bum with no job and no good intentions. What I do know is that Elizabeth asked her dad to push her on the swing at least three times before she gave up, resigned to the fact that he was ignoring her and there wasn't much she could do about it.

And that's pretty sad.

It's the quiet ones you gotta watch

2006-06-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

"Jenn, could I talk to you for a second?" Lila's teacher stopped me on the way out of the classroom today.

"Sure, what's up?" I said.

"One of my main concerns with Lila is that she doesn't always speak up when she knows something. She can be very chatty and silly at times, but at other times she doesn't speak up when she needs help."

"Yeah, I know that. She's pretty shy and you covered that on her kindergarten evaluation form." I told her.

"Well, yesterday we had an incident in the classroom." She looked at me very seriously.

"Ok, what happened?" Now I was a little worried.

"Well, it was time to pack up and go home and I saw Lila at the cubbies. I went over and asked what she was doing in the cubbies, but she didn't say anything, she just smiled at me. So I closed the cubby and told her it was time to get ready to go."

"Ok?"

"A minute later, we noticed that Nancy was missing. We looked everywhere and couldn't find her. I was really starting to panic and then we discovered she was in the cubbies."

"Oh, you shut the door on her? She's pretty tiny, I could see how she'd be easy to miss." Nancy is a very small girl and this could have happened to anyone. I wanted to make her feel better.

"The thing is, I asked Lila if she knew that Nancy was hiding in the cubby and she said she did. I told her it would have been nice if she said something because I was very worried about Nancy."

"Ahh, yes, well, Lila doesn't like the attention on her. With all the commotion of looking for Nancy, she was probably too shy to speak up."

"I would expect her to speak up to us by now. She knows us well enough and feels comfortable in our class. Any conversation you could have with her about the importance of telling teachers what she knows would be very helpful. You may also want to let her Kindergarten teacher know that she is like this so she can be prepared."

"I'll talk to her." I said. I was kind of stunned. She's had my daughter in preschool for two years and this is the one and only time she has ever misbehaved, if you could even call it that. I definitely will talk to Lila about what happened. I want her to know how important it is to tell grown ups what she knows. Whether it's a missing kid or an alphabet question, her thoughts are important enough to share.

And yet.....

I can't help but feel that the main reason her teacher was so upset was that she lost a kid. In clear daylight, in the middle of the secure classroom, one of them got away from her. And we all know that if Nancy was truly missing, not just hiding in the cubby, her parents would have this teacher's head on a silver platter surrounded by curly endive and radish roses. This conversation seemed like it was a carefully worded defense in case she was ever called upon to explain why a kid went missing.

I guess she found her scapegoat, let's just hope this doesn't go down on Lila's permanent record.

On the lighter side

2006-06-07T09:09:00.000-07:00

It's not all pre-teen angsty drama. Sometimes we doll ourselves all up..

And chill out with our friends.

We act real dorky!

Or just plain evil.

On the hottest days, when it's so humid and sticky that no can stand it anymore, dad takes us to the gourmet chocolate store and gets us peanutbutter cups the size of an infants head!

We have fun, we laugh, we spend a half hour getting chocolate off of every surface in the bathroom (just imagine walking in after her and seeing brown smears everywhere, what would you instantly think?).

Here's to a happy summer! I'll leave you with a picture of Jasmine & Violet from last year. That girl really needs to stop hiding when the camera comes out. I had to sort through about 3000 pics of her sisters to find one of her.

And then there's my twelve year old...

2006-06-05T10:39:00.000-07:00

I have three kids in three very different age groups. The youngest is two, and a firecracker. She climbs everything, gets into everything, repeats everything, but her biggest problems can be solved with a simple kiss and a hug.

My middle girl is five. She is very inquisitive. She asks lots of questions about how things work, and why things do what they do. She also listens to adult conversations when you think she's not and interjects her philosophical opinion. She has become an excellant (and exhausting) tattler and most of her problems can be solved with a kiss or a forced apology from an unsympathetic two year old.

And then there's my twelve year old. I think this one is trying to kill me.

"Have you seen the girls?" Innocent enough question that sent my heart racing with fear. Jasmine was supposed to be at her friend's house down the road. They asked to come here to get a movie, but never returned. "And I can assure you, they are no where in between my house and yours." The friend's mom said. They had been gone over ten minutes for a trip that should have taken five.

Could they have been kidnapped? Two preteens kidnapped at once seemed unlikely. The only logical choice was that they snuck off to somewhere they knew they weren't supposed to be. I headed off down the road to look when I saw Jasmine heading my way. Her friends mom had been driving around in her car and seen them. She conviscated her daughter and sent Jasmine on her way home.

"Where were you!" I screamed at her even though I was fairly sure of the answer.

"I was...we were just.." She faltered. She knew she was caught and was trying to decide if lying would get her in less trouble.

"Are you fucking stupid! You are twelve years old! You NEVER take off somewhere and not let an adult know where you are!" Jasmine looked shocked. It wasn't the swearing that threw her for a loop, but I was yelling at her in front of the neighbors. I usually try not do that to save her embarassment, but today I didn't care. I was so livid.

She and her friend had snuck off to Trevor's house. Trevor is the boy Jasmine has a major crush on. She is obsessed with him. I don't know him at all, but I know his family. To put it nicely: They ain't a pretty picture. And to make matters worse, Jasmine is not allowed to date and she and this kid are acting the part without all the boyfriend/girlfriend terminolgy. Not cool in our book.

Dating or "going out" is not what it used to be. When I was in Jr. High there was hand holding and maybe sitting together at lunch. Now, Jasmine's friends french kiss, feel up, and sit on their boyfriend's laps at the back of the movie theater. There was also a pregnant girl, but they shipped her off to another school so she wouldn't cause an epidemic. Pregnancy, it seems, can be very appealing for the lipgloss peers and spreads like lice at a preschool.

My daughter is a follower, not a leader. She wants to be liked, wants to be like everyone else. She goes with the crowd and is totally afraid of what her friends think. She's been in trouble a lot this year. More than she ever has before. Each time it involved sneaking and lying and not being where she was suposed to be. Until she can develop sense of autonomy, be comfortable enough with who she is to be able to protect her integrity, I don't want some raging testosterone fueled boy anywhere near her.

She knows our reasons for the no dating rule, even agrees with them, but she feels left out. All her friends are given many freedoms that I didn't even have in High School. More freedoms than kids this age can handle. Twelve year olds can't be expected to make wise choices about sexuality and drugs. They are simply not mature enough to say no. Hell, most adults aren't. Yet almost all of her friends are left to their own devices after school and on weekends. As long as they are home by a certain time, their parents don't care where they go.

That's not me. And that's not me, because I know my kid. She's not ready to say no. She's not in that space in her head that will allow her to make the right choice, even if it's unpopular. She's just not there yet.

So, she has rules. And she's unhappy about it. "Jasmine, you have all the rules you've earned." I told her. "If you don't like them, you need to step up and prove you're ready for more resposibilty." She nodded and wiped her teary eyes. I have no idea if that sank in this time or not. I often feel like I'm talking to the proverbial brick wall. I just keep reminding myself that I'm doing what I think is best. I'm not her friend, I'm her mother. My job is to raise her up and get her to adulthood with a good head on her shoulders.

But being the hated one sucks. Big time.

Miss Hanagan may have had a point...

2006-05-19T10:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was one of those days. You know those days, right? The cute little stories your kids tell are just annoying, the little one is whiny because of her cold, the older one is bitchy because, well, she doesn't have reason she just is. And she brought home an equally bitchy friend who teases the little girls and doesn't even thank you for dinner. Sighhh....one of those days.

It's been raining here is New England for like 100 days straight. I'm sure that's contributing to my general sense of malaise. That, and the fact that the baby won't nap this week. I miss nap time. I really do. I never realized it before, but that hour and a half a day was the best thing that ever happened to me. There was quiet, there was peace, there were Will & Grace reruns on Lifetime. Those were the days...

We did manage to get outside and play yesterday. The kids played in rain water that had collected in various buckets and pools around the yard. They made mud pies and squished mud in between their toes and flung mud at each other. It was all well and good until baby girl found a straw and drank the muddy, scummy, rain water from the pool. She is so gross. She really is. She would have emptied the thing, smacked her lips and said "Ahhhh" if I had let her. I made both of them strip on the patio and marched them into a warm shower to hose down.

After little ones were in bed, I headed outside to get some air. Jasmine and her friend were out there playing with a soccer ball. I sat on the stairs and they came over to join me. Jasmine's friend is going into high school next year and I asked her what she wanted to do when she got out of school.

"I don't know, teacher maybe?" She didn't sound convinced.

Jasmine piped up "Isn't there a test you can take? It tells you what you should be when you grow up. I saw it in a movie."

"There's no magic test, Jazz. You have to find something you're passionate about, some you love." I tell her. They both looked discouraged. They were clearly hoping to fill in a few circles with a #2 pencil and have someone tell them what job they had. They are both such girls. They pretend to be grown up, but they're not.

I sat for a few more minutes and listened as Jasmine talked about this circle of girls that wear thongs to school.

"Their parents don't know they wear them." She said. "I think they pass the same one around the circle so they can each have a turn with it. "

"Jasmine, it's not ok to share underwear. Actually, it's kinda disgusting." I never thought I'd have to say that out loud.

We sat for a few more minutes then I sent the friend on her way home and Jasmine to bed. I was never so grateful to see the end of a day come. Not that anything particulary bad happened, I was just done. It reminds me of Miss Hanagan's song from Annie - Little girls, little girls, everyday I eat, sleep, and breathe them.....Some women are dripping with diamonds. Some women are dripping with pearls. Lucky me! Lucky me! Look at what I'm dripping with - Little girls!

I'll meet you at the bar, Miss Hanagan.

My child is perfect, damn it!

2006-05-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

The end of the school year is drawing to a close and my five year old will be entering kindergarten in the fall. I can't believe that she's ready for all day school. Right now, she's in preschool five days a week, two and a half hours each day.

In an effort to communicate with her future kindergarten teacher, the preschool teacher has filled out an evaluation form on Lila. I saw it in the backpack on the way home from school yesterday and practically ran home so I could read it. I pulled it out of the bag and instantly got nervous. I hate these things. If they don't say "Your child is the brightest, most special, beautiful child we have ever bared witness to!" then I get mad.

So I read the report. Can cut with scissors? Yes. Can listen to teacher/stories? Yes. Shows age appropriate self control? Yes. It was mostly fine, she can hit all the right milestones with ease. None the less, I was bugged by several responses the teacher had to some questions. Such as - Can follow a series of three directions? Usually only one or two at a time. Hello??! She's five! My twelve year old can't follow three directions without a written decree from the governor of our fair state! Lila can certainly follow more directions than most of the kids in her class, half of whom need a chew toy and personal tutor to get through the day!

Ok, I may have been harsh in that last statement. Knee jerk reaction, is all. She has great classmates.

Dress independently? Yes, but attention wanders. We often have to remind her to keep moving to finish the task. She's five! This is not military school, the kids don't all move in straight, silent lines to the cubbies and methodically put on their coats. They goof, they laugh. I've been in your classroom at the end of the day, I know how it works. Don't try and fool me, bitch!

Again, harsh. I apologize, she's a lovely teacher. I actually requested her this year.

Physical coordination: Yes on all markers - with an astericked note: Moves slowly with a purpose. So?! She's a thinker, a planner. She likes to be safe and choose wisely. What the hell is a matter with that? Huh?! You wanna take this outside?

Her teacher closed the evaluation with this note:

Lila is a very caring and happy girl. She is also very reserved and sometimes needs to comforted from the adults. She usually speaks very softly but at times can be very silly and animated. She has been a big help with the younger children who don't communicate well. She has a mothering instinct that reaches out to these children. She is very cooperative and helps out in the classroom. Lila's preacademic skills are good, although there are times when I'm not sure she has understood a direction. We will miss Lila very much, but I look forward to seeing her on our way to the playground next year.

Hard to argue with that. That's who she is. She is a quiet, shy girl that takes some time to warm up. But once she does, her infectious laughter will make even the most disgruntled old misers giggle along with her. She has an amazing ability to feel compassion for people. She takes great care of her baby sister and calls her "Dear" and "Sweetheart". She is cautious and afraid of getting hurt, but has become quite adventurous over this year. And yes, I'll admit that I call her Pokey Little Puppy when it comes time to put her shoes and coat on. I know all the things in the evaluation are true of Lila, that's why I'm going to sign it and hand it back in. But I may add one note of my own:

Careful, her momma is a lion and will bite if provoked.

Educating Lila

2006-05-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

My niece is in Kindergarten and she is learning to read and write. She can sound out simple words and even write a few of her own. It's very cool when they start to do that.

So the other day my niece and Lila were playing "homework" in the play room. It was very serious stuff. They were both quite upset when Violet would take a crayon and scrub on their homework papers. It was keeping them quiet, so I would redirect Violet as best as I could so they could play.

The next morning Lila came over to me with some papers in her hand. "Mama, do you want to see the homework we were working on yesterday? Wendy can write real words."

"Sure Li, let's have a look." I put down my magazine and she handed me the papers one at a time.

"This is mine." It was the word cat written a few times. There were some backwards C's and a few cat drawings on the page.

"Very nice Lila!" I handed the paper back to her.

"This one is Wendy's! She wrote real words!" Her joy was barely containable. I took the page from her and had a look. It did, in fact, contain real words. The entire page was covered with the words "POOP" and "PEE".

"Hmm...did she tell you what these words were?" I was thinking maybe she and Wendy had no idea. I once wrote the word F-U-C-K-Y-O-U in 3 foot chalk letters down the sidewalk. I had no idea what it meant, I had just seen it on a wall and remembered it. Not too surprisingly, my dad saw it too and the rest of that day is a blur.

"She said it was 'Poop' and 'Pee' !!" Lila erupted in a fit of giggles. This was clearly the funniest thing ever.

"Yup, babe. That's what it says alright." She took the paper back and walked away still giggling.

Older cousins can be so cool. They know just enough more than us to keep it interesting. The same can be said for older sisters, too. It was mine that wrote that nasty little epitaph on the wall that I ended up copying on the sidewalk. Immitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know.

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza!

2006-05-01T09:44:00.000-07:00

Saturday was my husband and my daughter's birthday. Violet turned two, Darryl turned 34. We had a party for them, and everyone else through March and April whose birthdays slide by us. Not unnoticed, mind you, just unrecognized. I think we celebrated close to ten birthdays. The weather was lovely and sunny and my mom made mass quantities of food that pretty much all got eaten. As the day wound down, we played cards at the picnic table and sat around my husband's new fire pit (a birthday present from me and his girls). The kids all played together and had fun. There were a few fights, mostly between Violet and her little friend over a car. His birthday was also in April - three weeks before Violet's.

They eventually moved on to other modes of transportation where they kissed and made up.

All in all, it was a good day. Violet got some great presents, as did Darryl, and Jasmine who's birthday was in the beginning of April. We survived another April - the birthday month from hell. Just what was it about July that had the panties flying off, anyway? You'd think the sweltering heat and humidity would cause wives to threaten their husbands with sticks if they got too close. It must be the air conditioning.

As my friend always says: "God bless Willis Carrier"

How did Stella get her groove back?

2006-04-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

I really do have lots to say, you know. Being home with three kids gives me a ton of material. For instance, I met a woman a birthday party recently who's five year old son has never thrown up. Never! I found this little tid bit fascinating. She's never been woken up in the middle of the night to change pukey sheets, or had her kid make it to the toilet, but not in time to lift the lid. Can you imagine? What's her life like?

There was also the conversation I had with my daughter's friend about how us "old ladies wear your pants so high. It's gross." Hello! It's called your waist. The last thing this town needs is more over weight soccer moms bearing a muffin top for the world to see. Freakin kids.

And T-Ball! Did I mention I sorta made my husband the coach? Eh, all he does is lay in bed on Saturday mornings anyway. And on the ball field, I thought I met a great group of parents with two year olds for my little one to play with. All hopes for playdates may be dashed, as my sweet baby girl ran up to the other babies and used a nice deeeeeep monster voice to proclaim "MY daddy MY ball MY Tee I PLAY!" Don't scurry to your cars too fast moms, you forgot your kids' mits!

Oh, there's lots more. Like Jasmine just turned twelve last week, Lila is losing teeth faster than Augustus Gloop in the chocolate factory, and potty training Violet has been - interesting. And it seems that every time I start writing deeper into any given subject, reality comes crashing down with, well a crash. Or an overturned cereal bowl. And when I settle back down to finish, I just can't get my groove back.

So one of these days I'll be able to finish a thought, flesh out an idea, or sound out a proclamation. I hope. Those kids have gotta sleep sometime, right?

Music to my ears..

2006-04-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

"I wad YOU you wad ME! Gray big HUG!"

There's been quite a bit of joyful noise around the house lately. For no other reason than the fact that baby girl has discovered she can sing. It's really rather cute. So cute, in fact, that I can forgive that she prefers to sing the Barney anthem most of the time. Caillou's theme song is also a big hit around here too, and Elmo makes an occasional appearance.

The really interesting songs come when she thinks no one is listening. That's when she makes them up herself. Armed with her little piano, she'll find a quiet place to sit so she can play and sing. Not too long ago I was in the kitchen making dinner when Violet wandered in and plopped herself on the floor with the piano she got for christmas. Completely oblivious of me, she began to play a song and sing.

"AhhhOOOO! OOOOoooo. To to to to to! OOOOOO!"

I crept over to the phone and called my mom. "Hey, listen to this." I whispered and held the phone out.

"AAAHHHooooo OOOOaaaahh OOOOO!"

"What is that? Are you playing a whale song tape?" My mom asked.

Nature sounds and kid show theme songs are not the only things on her repetiore. She can riff off her family too. Just the other day, alone in the Sponge Bob fort, I heard her playing the piano and singing a sweet little gem:

"Lila too, We We too, Mommy too, Daddy too..."

Ahh..baby. So sweet you are. Almost makes me forget the upside down bowl of cereal on the living room rug and purple crayon on the wall. Almost. Play it again, kiddo. I'll get the cleaning supplies.

Candy cigarette anyone?

2006-04-05T10:16:00.000-07:00

Things have changed since I was a kid. I remember one of my favorite candies when I was a kid was the candy cigarette. Remember? There was the gum kind that was wrapped in paper and if you blew really hard a little puff of "smoke" would come out. The other kind were little candy sticks that had red ends to make the cigarette look lit. Both came in a realistic cigarette box. I thought they were so cool. Can you imagine buying a treat like that for your kids now? You'd be shunned from the playground in no time.

School work has changed too, you know. Parents are way more involved with kids projects than they used to be. When I was in school, if I had a paper due it was all up to me. I wrote it, I dragged out the old typewriter and typed it (it was electric, I'm not that old!). If there was any kind of diaorama or poster required, my mom passed me the glue and walked away.

These days, parents spend just as much time in threnches as the kids, sometimes more. A friend recently told me that her husband spent five hours with an erector set for her eight year old's "machine" project. My own sister typed (and possible wrote) every paper for her now grown son. I bring this all up because I have joined the ranks as well. I spent my evening typing and editing my daughter's health paper last night. And after she went to bed, I watched Law & Order and colored in the poster of "Tuberculor Bob" - an informative and entertaining visual on the disease that ravaged the 1920's. I probably wouldn't have done so much work, but darling daughter mentioned at 7:30pm that her report was due today. She thought she had more time, got confused when it was due, told me and I forgot- pick your excuse. At first, I told her tough luck. She didn't budget her time and was going to have to suffer the consequences. We didn't even have any poster board! I soon calmed down and sent her to her room with her notes to write the report. While she was doing that, I quickly scared up some facts from the internet on Tuberculosis to add to the report. I wasn't going to let her take the F grade. She deserved it, but I couldn't let her show up unprepared. Jasmine works hard for her grades, but she can be very forgetful. I need to remind her of due dates constantly so she can stay on schedule. This is my child. When she moves out in her own, her electric and cable will probably be shut off more than once. Not for lack of money, but simply because she forgot to mail the check. I know she's only twelve, but she's the kind of kid that has to learn everything the hard way. She's always been like that.

So hubby ran to Walmart for poster board and drew her a lovely Tuberculor Bob. Jazz filled in the facts on the poster and wrote her notes for the oral presentation, and I typed and edited the paper, and colored in Bob. It was a group effort to get our kid the best grade possible. But there are consequences for not being prepared for project worth a test grade - Dad just happens to be chaperoning the dance in a couple of weeks. And if that wasn't already punishment enough, he's going to make a special song request "to my darling daughter Jasmine, from her Daddy". She chose that idea. Her other option was having the last dance of the evening with her dad. She'd rather be brutally murdered by a grizzly bear than have that happen, so song dedication it is. Boy, now that I think of it, disipline has changed a lot over the years too.

The truth hurts.

2006-03-23T18:23:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I was driving my oldest daughter to pick up one of her friends. She was telling me that to tease her, a boy in her class calls her "masterbator". The term is similar to our last name. I'm trying to teach Jasmine to stick up for herself. Quick wit is not one of her strong suits, and is sometimes imperative for fending off idiots.

"Tell him it would take a real pro to know a term like that." I told her

She looked a little confused "I don't get that." She said.

"Well, it means that he'd have to masterbate a lot to know the word masterbator. That way everyone would start laughing at him instead of you." I explained.

"Oh, ok. Good. That's funny." She said. " I just don't now what 'masterbate' means."

"You don't?" I was shocked. The kid just got a 90 on her health test who's major topic was "Wet Dreams - what are they?"

"No," she said earnestly "I really don't."

This put me at a major impass. I was terrified at the thought of explaining it to her, but if I don't she was likely to ask one of her friends. And let's face it, her friends are all idiots. So I took a deep breath, and layed it all out for her. With as few details as possible, of course. By the time I was done, we had arrived at her friend's place.

"Oh my God, that's disgusting. I'm going in to get her now." She avoided looking at me and practically ran from the car.

Some times the most horrifing thing about parenthood are the truths you have to tell your kids, and how much joy you take in grossing them out.

Dancing Queen

2006-03-16T10:18:00.000-08:00

"Where is everybody?"

Miss Kim is looking around the room. It's full of a bunch of five and six year olds in leotards and she's not remarking on the pitiful attendance today. She has clearly lost their attention as they spin around in circles and dig their little fingers up their noses. We have a dance recital in a few weeks and our lovely, sweet teacher may have picked a lofty song choice for these kids. And as Simon always says, song choice can make or break you in this business.

Miss Kim calls out "Everyone to your green dot!" and the kids scramble to find their green piece of electrical tape stuck to the floor. Most manage to find a green dot. There are a few who want to know why some kids dots are bigger than others. "That's just the way it worked out." she says diplomatically. One girl can't find a dot at all. "Oh, we must be short one. Can you pretend there is a dot there?" Miss Kim is an optimist, for sure. Before the little darling can answer, she starts the music and gets the kids moving.

Splish splash I was taking a bath..
"Move those ahms kids, good!" Her Massachusetts accent slays me. I stifle a giggle.
..put my feet on the floor. Wrap my towel around me..
"Ok, turn around, backs to the audience!" The kids turn around and wiggle their little buns. "Now face forward!" My kid is still facing backwards.
Splish splash I jump back in the bath..
"Grab your pahtner and spin!" The spinning is their favorite part. They instantly spin each other out of control.

"Ok everyone! That was great." Miss Kim stops the music and tries to impart her wisdom on the tiny dancers. "We don't want to run in circles, we need to skip gently. We don't want any of our friends to get hurt, do we?"

"I have a teacher named Lindsey." My daughter tells her.
"That's nice, Lila. "
"And I have a cousin Lindsey"
"Really?"
"And my teacher Lindsey has a brother named Zachary."
"Oh?"
"And I have a cousin named Zachary."
"Well, nice."

"I have a cousin named Annie!" One of the other kids pipes up. Soon everyone is telling cousin names, dog names, and anything else they can come up with . Miss Kim shoots me a look. I just shrug and hide behind my Premier Magazine.

"Ok everyone! Let's play Miss Bunny!" The room erupts in squeals and everyone lines up. She has her control back with their favorite game. After a quick round of our kids pretending to be baby bunnies, she has them find their dots and try the routine again. It starts strong, but ends pretty dismally. They're just not that into it today. She heaps on the praise for their efforts and encourages them for next week.

"You guys are looking really good, I'm very impressed! Let's all try to make it to every practice from now on because we have a recital in a few weeks and we want to look good for our families, right?" That last bit was clearly meant for us parents. Miss Kim is as non-threatening as they come.

After some flower and butterfly stamps on everyone hands, we're headed home. I can't believe this woman does this two days a week, three classes each day and manages to get routines in there. I'm pretty sure that If I was in charge of the class, there would be a lot of interpretive dance going on. Which really means out of control spinning and nose picking. They're good at that.

It's The Inner Voice That Counts

2006-03-07T09:03:00.000-08:00

"Violet, do you want a bagel?"

"NO!"

No thank you Mother. I'm really not that hungry. Thanks for offering.

"Violet, do you want some milk?"

"NO, JUICE!"

Actually Mom, I would prefer some juice. Thanks so much for getting it for me!

"Phew! Violet do you need your diaper changed?!"

"No!"

Yes Momma, I have soiled myself. Will you be a dear and clean me up? I promise to get that potty training thing down as soon as possible.

"Violet, did you color on the wall?"

"No, Lila."

Yes mother, it was me. I know I blamed Lila and that was unfair. It's just that when the creative spirit hits me, I can't help myself. Please forgive me.

Moody babies don't like Pizza Hut either.

2006-03-05T00:42:00.000-08:00

Well, we gave it a try but Violet just wasn't into it. I kinda knew when we left that she wasn't really well, but had been begging to see her cousin "WeWe" (Wendy) so I thought that might cheer her up some. Nope. Thankfully my mom was home so I drove her over there. They cuddled up in a blanket and watched Caillou and I was back by the time the pizza arrived.

When I got home, the girls had a nice warm bubble bath and we laid in my bed watching cartoons until Violet fell asleep. And did she sleep!

She woke up at 5 and came into our bed.

She woke up at 8ish and downed half a bottle of water and a cup of juice. She fell back asleep with the juice cup in hand.

And she slept, and slept, until - 12:30pm!

And right now she is eating the crunch berries from her cereal, eating yogurt, and drinking more juice. Maybe we're on the mend, keep your fingers crossed!

Boy, is her diaper wet!

Moody Babies don't like to "Nite"

2006-03-03T09:27:00.000-08:00

My littlest, Violet, has been sick lately. It started with fever and diarrhea and has since morphed into a nasty little cold. Needless to say, she been very crabby. And to add insult to injury she hasn't been napping.

Last night at dinner time was tough. She was very tired and crabby and was prone to crying at anything. After ten minutes trying to decide what she wanted for dinner ("Mac & cheese?" "NO, THAT!!" "Chicken?" "NO, THAT!! *sob, tears, snot* "Potatoes?" "Yuhuh..sniff..sniff") Violet was finally sitting quiet and eating. Jasmine and her friend were getting their dinner so I quietly walked up behind them and whispered:

"Ok, nobody talk to or look at the baby. She is very tired and sick and is finally sitting still. I just want her to eat her dinner so she can go to bed."

I'm such an idiot.

"NOOOO! NO NITE! I DON'T WANNA NITE NOO NOOO!" I'm pretty sure the sobbing and screaming could be heard across town. "I DONE! NO NITE!!" More sobbing as the plate get thrown to the floor.

"Ok Violy, you don't have to. Calm down, calm down." I tried to soothe, but it was all over.

That, my friends, was a rookie mistake.

Conversations with Lila

2006-02-28T09:47:00.000-08:00

Lila: Do you know that caveman?
Me: What caveman?
Lila: I think his name is Fred.
Me: Caveman Fred....Fred Flintstone?
Lila: Yeah, him. Why is he always saying "Yibba Yibba Yibba"?
Me: It's "Yabba Dabba Doo!". It's his happy noise. Kind of like saying Woohoo, or Yee Haw!
Lila: Oh. That's a little weird.

*****

Lila: I don't get Miss Piggy.

Me: What do you mean?

Lila: Well, why is she always in a dress and wearing make up and jewlery and stuff.

Me: Because she's very fabulous.

Lila: Pigs belong on farms.

Me: Miss Piggy is way to pretty to live on a farm!

Lila: Pigs aren't allowed in the house. They live in mud.

Me: I wouldn't let Miss Piggy hear you say that. She'd get you with one of her karate chops - Hiya!

Lila: Really?

Me: Really. She can be a little mean sometimes.

Lila: I don't like her.

*****

Me: I have to work today, so you're going to go to Nanny's after school.

Lila: Great!

Me: Now when you come home from school I want you to make a healthy choice for snack. Something good for your body.

Lila: Ok, I'll have some chips and some juice and two cookies.

Me: Those aren't really healthy things. How about some apples, bananas, peanutbutter toast, a bowl of cereal would be a good choice.

Lila: Ok. I'll have a bowl of cereal. But can Nanny chop up a chocolate bar and put that on top?

Me: *Sighhhh*

*Ed. Note- If asked, my mom would totally chop up a candy bar and put it on her cereal. No questions asked.

There's another one in April!

2006-02-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

The Thursday of a school vacation week is brutal. Almost over, but not quite done. The toys are boring, we've had sleepovers, been to sleepovers, worked on school projects, blew all the quarters in our change jar at the arcade, had playdates, built forts. We're sick of looking at each, sick of tv (well, I'd like to watch Oprah, but heaven forbid..). I was hoping to win Powerball so we could all go on a nice vacation this week. So much for that. We really need some more stuff to do in this town. An indoor playground would be great, a children's museum....anything. We only have one car so we can't really get to far away, hubby needs to get to and from work and all.

There will be a break in the monotony today. I've been called into work for a few hours to help out, so everyone will be going to Nanny's! They will watch tv, play toys, and eat snacks. For some reason this will all be way more fun at her house than ours. Jasmine also has a friend sleeping over. That will get us to Friday. Maybe my sister in law would love to drive us all to Chuckee Cheese? Come on crappy pizza and video games! Let's go!

Party Time

2006-02-19T17:15:00.000-08:00

So Jasmine came to me to announce that she had been invited to a birthday party. One of her friends was having a sleep over with a bunch of girls. They were going to head over on a Friday after school and spend the night. Great, sounds like fun. This Friday rolls around and Jasmine announces that she has since been UNinvited to the party. Seems that the birthday girl had invited too many friends and her mom told her shorten the list. Three girls, including Jasmine, were asked not to attend - but they are invited to stop by after school to drop off their gift. Just as long as they don't stay for the party.

Yeah, right. Hold your breath Miss Manners, we'll be right there.

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

2006-02-15T18:02:00.000-08:00

Nevermind the kid, I'm never going to survive Middle School.

Kitchen Olympics

2006-02-15T14:06:00.000-08:00

All was well when I last left the scene of the crime. Violet was nicely seated at her snack table in the middle of the kitchen. She was eating her toast and raisins. Lila was sitting the computer, eating a sandwich and playing a game. Peace and harmony.

"I'm just going to run upstairs and put some laundry away girls." I said.

"Alright Mama." They said in unison.

I put one basket away and went to the stairs "You guys alright?" I yelled.

"Yeah, we're fine." Lila called back

"Ahright!" Little Violet chimed.

I started the second basket when I heard *Beep Beep Beeeeep*. "Geez," I was thinking "that sounds like the microwave." I headed back downstairs to see what was up.

The kitchen looked like the monkeys from Jumanji had been there. Toast and raisins were everywhere. The crusts from Lila sandwich were on the floor under her chair and she was making her own chocolate milk. The snack table was pushed aside and Violet had pushed her chair to the counter and was setting the microwave for 10 minutes. The smell emanating from inside of it suggested it had been run for atleast two or three already. This had to atleast qualify for a speed record. I was gone, maybe, seven minutes.

"What have you guys been doing?!" I asked them.

Baby girl answered first with a resounding "Nahying!"

Lila agreed with Violet "Yeah, nothing. Just eating breakfast."

I was going to point out that when most people are just eating breakfast it doesn't require a hose and an elephant broom, but I had the feeling that idea would be lost on these two. So I'm giving the Gold and Silver medals to Violet and Lila (respectively) for speed piggyness and the ability to make their Momma sigh.

*Sighhhhh*

That Tooth Fairy better stop at the ATM

2006-02-12T17:20:00.000-08:00

Lila has found herself a new way to earn money:

If nothing else, she's resourceful!

Who knew PBS could be a bad influence?

2006-02-10T09:04:00.000-08:00

Lila and I were driving home from the video store last night. She had just rented a movie with her own money - a whole $2.00 - when she pipes up from the back seat "I know a way to get more money."

"Really, how?" I asked. Secretly, I was starting to swell with pride. My little baby was going to do some chores and earn her money. She'd pick up a few toys, maybe wash the kitchen table or windows. It didn't matter, she was learning the value of hard work. What a smart girl.

"Well," she starts "First I need to get a dress and cut some holes in it, then I have to stand on a corner and say (affecting a falsetto) 'Oh dear, I haven't any money. Whatever will I do?!' "

"Lila Grace! Where on earth did you get an idea like that?" I'm really trying to be stern and not laugh.

"On Arthur. DW did it." She says

"That's a cartoon, and you're a real girl. That idea is not safe or honest. You need to find a different way to earn money." I tell her.

"It would work." She says, a little disapointed.

Smart girl, indeed.

Jasmine

2006-02-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

"I'm nervous."

It's Friday night, the first "dress up" dance of the year, and Jasmine and I are sitting in the car in front of the middle school.

"You look great!" I tell her. "Why are you nervous?"

"Nobody else is wearing a green dress. They're all wearing pink or red." She's scanning the throng of kids that have assembled in front of the cafeteria door. It's not really true, I can see several girls in blue, black, purple, all sorts of colors. Jazz had her heart set on a pink dress but we just couldn't find one anywhere. We got a beautiful green flowery dress made from a nice gauzy fabric. It looks great on her.

"I'm not ready to go in yet." She says, still staring at the crowd that is growing thicker by the minute.

"Ok, we'll just wait here awhile." I try to lighten her mood by giving commentary on the girls that teeter by our car on their very high heels. "Ug, those shoes are going to give her blisters. Hey look- that girl's wearing leopard print!"

"I don't see any of my friends, why did I come?" Most of this anxiety has been caused by these so called friends. They told her they were all wearing pink and that she'd stand out in her green dress. One even went so far as to say she didn't like the dress at all. Middle school is all about conformity. Individualism is kin to ostracism.

"Jazz, you look good. You're going to have a great time once you get in there." I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her to call me if she wants to come home early. She knows she can, but I don't want to give her the out. She can do this.

A few more minutes go by, and we talk about what the girls are wearing as they walk by our car ("What's with that dress? It's not a prom. Ooh- cute shoes! Am I the only one with a purse?").
Then she finally sees some one she knows.

"I know her! I'm going in now, bye!" In a wisp of organza she jumps from the car and runs after her friend. Nerves gone, or atleast at bay for the moment.

I drive home alone and think about when Jasmine came to live with us. She was three and had been left with strangers by her mother, who never came back for her. She had been living in a car and her nutrition was beyond poor. She needed to be taught everything- potty training, table manners, how to sleep in a bed. She was so little and helpless then. Now she's wearing heels, make up, and slow dancing at a semi formal. I swear to god it all happened in blink of an eye.

She's growing up, and there's no stopping it.

The Violet Tornado

2006-02-02T10:19:00.000-08:00

I pulled this stuff out of the VCR today. It works much better now! And while I was doing that, baby girl spread crumpled up Frosted Shredded Mini Wheats across the kitchen and living room floors. And as I sit here typing, all the books are flying off the bookshelf. I'm going to be busy today.

Believe it or not, you've come to this town to get an education!

2006-01-30T09:52:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this post by saying I am in no way a perfect parent. But I have learned a few things along the way that I would like to share. Here it goes:

Teach your kids to appreciate their education. Not everyone can afford to go away to college, they should feel grateful that they can.

Teach your kids that when they do go away to college, they will be living in someone else's hometown not a "college" town. They will be in a place where people raise their families and live their lives. Respect that.

Teach your kids to have fun responsibly. Wandering the streets at night, drunk and looking for stuff to do is not a good thing.

And the most important thing of all:

Teach your kids respect other people's property.

This is the second time someone has done this to one of our cars.

I've been voted off the island!

2006-01-25T09:22:00.000-08:00

It is now official - I am the Bad Momma. So bad, in fact, that my oldest would like me to go on Wife Swap. For those of you who've never seen the show or *shudder* no tv, Wife Swap is a show where you trade your mom for two weeks for another. The drawback is that you don't get to pick the new wife/mom, the show picks her for you, sometimes with horrific results.

I'm sure you're wondering what vile, heinous act I committed that would cause my daughter to want to rid herself of me ? Here it is - I limited her computer time. Before you commence with the stone throwing hear me out. The girl was spending hours and hours on Instant Messaging. She was getting sore wrists from all the typing and backaches from being hunched over the screen for so long. She may have stopped breathing for long stretches, it's hard to be sure because she was so quiet. So conversations have been going something like this the past couple of days:

Her: Butit'sfunandIlikeitanditgivesmesomethingtodosowhyisitsobad?!

Me: Chocolate with almonds is great, and I like it, but I can't eat it all the time because that wouldn't be good for me, right?"

Her: I hate almonds. There's nothing else to do.

Me: You could read, or play with your sisters...

That's where I stop because I can see her tuning me out.

I have given her two hours a day to use the computer which is an hour more than my husband thought she should get. Her friends don't have limits which is making this even harder. Most of them don't have any supervision either because one popped up with a swastika logo next to his name. Idiot. My girl is naive, so she had no idea what it was. And it's the naivete that scares me because of all the internet predators out there.

So the limit stands. I mentioned the idea of using extra computer minutes as rewards for good test grades or chores. She perked right up at that thought. It looks there may be hope on the horizon for our precious young lass. As for Wife Swap, I'm hoping not to be shipped out. But if I do have to go, I'm hoping for a house with a maid and live in nanny!

Presents, Cake, and Amoxicillin

2006-01-17T14:46:00.000-08:00

We had Lila's friends over this weekend for her fifth birthday. It was a nice time. There were several no shows, but that actually made the group easier to manage. They did crafts, games, and whacked the guts out of an overstuffed Strawberry Shortcake Pinata. They also had a Barbie cake that Lila's Nanny made for her. It was a good time.

And today, both my girls have ear infections. I hope we didn't pass it around, or maybe it was passed to us, who knows? But at the risk of pulling a Martha, here's an insider trading tip for you- invest in CVS or Walgreens. I think they will be pulling in some extra scripts sometime soon.

And the Winner is.........

2006-01-13T12:57:00.000-08:00

Friday!

Baby Girl now has a fever and runny nose.

Ok, who owes me money?

A Quick Note of Thanks....

2006-01-13T00:44:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to quickly thank NUGGET for sparing mine and Lila's lives today. You see, Lila and I walk to school every day. And every day we wait patiently at the crosswalk for someone to stop and let us cross. Today, after waiting for three or four cars to pass, a nice man stopped for us. NUGGET was behind this nice man and apparently had many important things to do today. So important that he actually he veered around the car stopped at the crosswalk so he could keep going. Thankfully, he saw me and my five year old in the middle of the street and decided to wait his turn.

So, thank you NUGGET for letting us live.

You asshole.

Cough,sneeze, tissue please!

2006-01-11T08:45:00.000-08:00

It was bound to happen. With more preschoolers out than in these days, in was just a matter of time. Poor Lila is sick. Fever, cough, general malaise. We'll be lying around today watching movies and wiping her nose.

Now, who wants to lay down money on how fast the babe gets this? I've got a five spot on Friday. Anyone?

Why did I ask?

2006-01-04T19:49:00.000-08:00

Lila goes flying through the kitchen and into the bathroom.

Me: You ok, bud?

L: Yeah, I just need a tissue.

Me: Runny nose?

L: No.

Me: Why else would you need a tissue?

L: Giant Boogers!

Me: Ewww.

Exit Lila, stage left.

If I didn't steal the damn grapes to begin with....

2006-01-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

"Ah more, Mama?"

We're cruising through the grocery store and Violet is eating grapes we haven't paid for yet.

"Here you go, babe." I hand her two more.

"Thank you!" She says back in a sweet little sing-song voice.

Then we get to the register and it all goes bad the moment I hand the bag of grapes to the cashier.

"NOOOOO MINE!! MAMAAAAAAAAA!" Violet is doing her trade mark squeel. It's a new character trait of hers that none of us are fond of.

"Babe, we have to pay for them. You can have them right back."

"NOOOOOO!!!" More squeeling. The people behind us are giving me looks. The cashier is giving me looks. Even the old lady searching for the Pal Mals looks up.

I smile at the cashier. "She likes grapes" I say with shrug. I take my change and scramble for a few more grapes so we can leave. At the car, Violet wants her pen and paper at the exact moment I'm trying to buckle her in the carseat.

"I write Mama! I write!"

"Yes babe, I just need to buckle you in first." I'm struggling to get her arm through the strap.

"OW! OW! Mama! No!"

Now the cart kid is eyeballing me, I'm sure wondering what on earth I'm doing to the poor baby. After some more screaming and shoving I finally manage to get her in and situated with her paper and pen and we're off for home. I hate when we're the center of attention at the grocery store. All that staring, they probably think I beat her or something. Well, in their defense, I did bring her in looking like this:

She fell off the kitchen chair, I swear!
Err..I think we should just stay home for awhile.

Coffee, Coffee, Buzz, Buzz

2005-12-30T10:56:00.000-08:00

Sleepy. Very sleepy.

Oldest daughter up at 3am. Cramps, can't sleep. 2 Advils, 1 hot water bottle, the remote and the couch.

Baby Girl heard the commotion in the hall. She's up. 3 hours of twirling my hair (it's what she does when she's sleepy) and calling the cat to sleep with us. Finally put her back in her own bed at 6-ish.

Cat can't settle. On the bed, on the floor, on the bed, on my head, out the door.

Babe is back up at 7:30am. Her Dad puts her back in bed with me. "Where the 'mote? Where the 'mote? Caillou!"

8:30am- Middle baby girl brings me a present and hand made card. "Open it!" It's one of my christmas hand towels wrapped in a fleece blanket. "Isn't it soft and pretty?!"

Half a pot of coffee later. My fingers are twitching, but I'm coming around. I love you, Juan Valdez.

The Christmas Review

2005-12-28T10:00:00.000-08:00

With Christmas over and all the toys out of the boxes, I thought I'd give my quick review of the kids favorite pressies this year and the ones that didn't quite live up to their expectations.

Older kid first:

The IPod Shuffle - Jazz is really enjoying this pressie from us. She has put all her new CD's on it and is loving the slip covers that change the color. A bonus feature is that she is learning to multi-task! She IPods and watches TV, empties the dishwasher, gives the her sisters a bath (Dad put the kabosh on this activity), and even IPods while she's sleeping! My only fear is that she'll need perpetual noise in her ear to be productive at anything.

The Gift Card - Probably your best bet when shopping for a tweenager. She got cards to clothing stores, music stores, Wal-Mart, even one to get her hair done! Sweet!

Middle Kiddo:

Stuffed Things of Various Creed - Lila is very hot on sleeping with stuffed animals and dolls. It's a big decision each night about who makes the cut, and who ends up in the closet. Her new favs from Christmas are a huge horse she named Stella, a small pink poodle named Rose, and a Strawberry Shortcake Pillow Buddy that even smells like strawberry! I can tell you from experience that artificial strawberry scented dolls thrown in my face first thing in the morning are enough to make me puke. But she doesn't sleep with me, so she can stay. Lila did have one gift that didn't live up to her expectations. The Barbie and Me doll. This is the toy she asked Santa to bring her. It looked soft enough to sleep with and has pretty clothes. Santa came through and even brought one for her baby sister so there wouldn't be any fighting. But after removing the doll from the box, it was discovered that her fingers were sewn together and she was a little "weird" looking. Baby sister could not care less about hers, either. Barbie did make the cut and is sleeping on the bed, but I fear a life in the closet is in her near future.

Little One -

Babe received lots of pressies that she adores. Baby dolls, Teletubbies, noisy Wiggles stuff, and a couple of Elmos. However, my favorite is something that I bought for her. In the end, it means less scrubbing for me which is always a good thing. The winner is the Aquadoodle Coloring mat. A water filled pen that only works on the special mat. As you may know from previous posts, Violet is quite an artist around the house. This thing draws with water! Can it get any better? I submit that it cannot! I'll leave you with a picture of my budding Picasso. I hope everyone had a nice holiday and you have my best wishes for a great New Year!

So that's where all the Cruditè went!

2005-12-20T20:30:00.000-08:00

Another priceless conversation with our eleven year old.

J: The weird boys sit on one side of the cafeteria, the cool boys sit on the other.

Me: Whose weird?

J: Well, there's this kid named Nick. He's from Italy.

Me: Oooh, can he speak Italian?

J: Yeah, and english.

Me: That's so cool. You know, maybe he seems weird because he's from Italy. Things are different there. Maybe he's not used to our customs.

J: He stuffs carrots up his nose.

Me: Yeah, ok, that's weird.

Fun at dinner time

2005-12-14T20:25:00.000-08:00

Tonight at the Long Horn Steak House. Jasmine and Lila head for the bathroom. They came back to the table two minutes later.

Me: What's up Jazz?

J: Nothing, I just have to think for a second.

Me: About what? What's the matter?

J: Bull or Lamb?

Me: Huh?

Hubby: You're a lamb.

J: Ok. I thought so but I wasn't sure.

Me: Lamb? What? Oh, the bathroom door. Right.

Wanted: One Collection Agent, must be relentless.

2005-12-14T09:57:00.000-08:00

I was recently laid off from my part time job, so I am home full time with the kids now. I miss the money, but this was pretty much the plan all along anyway. So since I've been home, I've taken on some babysitting gigs. The first couple were freebies to help out some friends when they got stuck. The last few are paying gigs. Well, they are supposed to be paying gigs.

A neighbor asked me to watch her daughter a few days a week. She just got a night shift position and didn't want to leave her 13 yr old home unattended. The deal was I would pick her up from the afterschool program, feed her snacks, dinner, and dessert. Check to see if she needs homework help, and pretty much just make sure she's somewhere safe for those few hours before bedtime. We would then walk her home at 8:30pm. If her mom works on the weekends she sometimes sleeps over. So this has been going on for a couple of weeks now and her mom has yet to pay me. I keep hearing "I will pay you tomorrow" or "Thursday for sure!" I haven't seen one thin dime yet. It's absolutely degrading to have to beg for the money. I hate asking for it, but I finally called to find out when I would see some cash. The mother wasn't home, but her daughter told me that they needed to get through the holidays before they were going to pay me. I told her that didn't work for me and I couldn't sit for her anymore until I got paid.

That was Sunday. I haven't heard from them yet.

Errr ...It's not fair to make me the bad guy in this. I appreciate that it's hard to be a single mom, but we're a family of five here. We have bills too. She already owes me $75, if she charges any more she'll have an even harder time paying me.

I guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens. I'm not going to chase her down for the money, but I'm sticking to my guns and not babysitting her kid until I get paid. That means her 13 year old, who has a boyfriend, will be home alone.

You gotta love guilt.

Abu ghraib's got nothing on these kids.

2005-12-12T15:39:00.000-08:00

Good ole George Dubya isn't the only one dealing with the issue of torture lately. We've had our fair share around these parts as well. You see folks, my oldest is a middle schooler. There's nothing nastier than a middle school girl. I'm not trying to betray my gender, but quite simply, it's true. These girls will rip out your guts, feed it to crows, and laugh the whole time. Ok, I might be a little harsh since it's my daughter on the receiving end. Let me try to explain.

My daughter has been friends with "Sally", the girl down the road, since the beginning of elementary school. Everything has been great until this year when they entered Middle School and met Bitchy Betty. Bitchy Betty has been encouraging "Sally" to torture my daughter. They call her up and invite her places then say "Forget it, you can't come!" and hang up. They stood in the middle of a group of people at school and said she was "annoying and can't believe she has friends" They asked her to sing for them and then told her she was terrible. The most recent event was friday night at the dance when she said hi to them. They called her a leach and told her to go away.

Can I tell you what I'd like to do to these dumb little shits? Let your imagination roam, you'll find it. You might wonder why my girl keeps going back for more. God knows if it was me, I'd get as far away as possible. Unfortunately, that's just her style. She wants to be friends with everyone. She gives people way more chances than they deserve. And this is also the way it is in Middle School. Fight, make up, fight, make up. I don't miss it at all.

The kicker is that "Sally's" mom is big in the community. She is on several commitees for women's issues, handicap rights, she's a bigwig at the local college, and holds a position in our city government. Yet both her kids are big bullies. Especially the older one.

It's a tough position because I don't want my daughter to be bullied, but she has got to learn to stick up for herself. Errrrr....She just called to say she's staying after school with Bitchy Betty and Sally (and others) to watch the boys basketball practice. There are so many things wrong with that sentence, that I just don't know where to begin.

Home school looks pretty good on days like this.

The Ramblings of Four Year Olds

2005-12-06T09:19:00.000-08:00

Overheard at this morning's play date-

Lila and friend using a paint brush to apply brown eye shadow to a Barbie head.

Lila: "That seems like a lot of make up."

Friend: "It's ok Lila, she a model. That's how they do it."

Lila: "But it's all in her eye."

Friend: "She's a model, Lila. A model."

Lila: "Ok."

From Lila's room-

Friend: " Hold still Violet. This won't hurt at all."

Lila: "Yeah, Violet. It's not gonna hurt."

Violet: "Ahhhhhhhhhh! NO NO NO leggo!"

From Upstairs-

Friend: "Can we go in your sister's room?"

Lila: "Well, I'm not supposed to play in there. We could go in and look at stuff."

Momma: "Lila, what are you doing?"

Lila: "Nothing! See, I told you we can't go in there."

All I Want for Christmas is a Happy Kid!

2005-12-01T10:11:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season has arrived in our house. You can tell by the cries of "I want that!" eminating through every room. Even baby girl has gotten in on the action by shouting "I that!" when she sees a toy advertised on TV. In the spirit of the holiday, Lila's preschool teacher sent home an article for us parents to read. The topic? The most appropriate toys for us to buy our kids this year. I'll spare you the nitty gritty and give you the gist - Don't buy any toy advertised on TV or any toy associated with a TV program. It promotes more TV watching and that's bad for little minds. And you can forget about those kid friendly video and computer games. Too many of them star cartoon characters and that takes us right back to TV show tie ins.

It seems to me that this article is setting parents up for failure. I can see where this plan would work for kids who don't watch any tv. For the other 97% of kids in America, Christmas morning might be a little disapointing. Especially considering just about any toy you find in a store this time of year was advertised on TV at some point. As parents, we all want to do what's best for our children. So do we follow what the experts think is best and buy commercial free toys, or make our kids happy and get that Dancing Dora doll?

Why does everything have to be so complicated? Can't we do both? Why can't I get my daughter glue and glitter, as well as the Dora doll? Isn't moderation the key in any indulgence? I appreciate the teachers efforts to help us traverse this parenting thing, but what she really accomplished was adding more angst about the effort we're putting forth. Parenting is tough.

I guess I'll just have to do the best I can out there. Carefully balancing my children's developing minds and their desire for cool stuff to play with. If I find that toy at Wal-Mart, I'll let you know.

I see the moon....

2005-11-29T07:31:00.000-08:00

"Mama! Where are you? Mama! Mama!"

This is what I can hear from the shower. It's my baby girl and she wants in.

*gentle knocking* "Mama? Mama?"

I grab a towel and open the door.

"Dank you Mama!"

I close the door and throw the towel in the hamper and baby girl throws open the bathroom curtains. Wide open. Did I mention it's a first floor bathroom and we have neighbors?

"Oooo snow!"

Thank God they're all college kids. They're much too hung over to be up this early in the morning.

Here's to hoping.

Kool Aid Mom

2005-11-25T19:55:00.000-08:00

I saw this comedian recently who was discussing her eastern European mother. "My mom is not one of those Kool Aid moms who invite all the neighborhood kids in for snacks" she said. "My mom always told me 'you find someone who'll feed you, you go there'". Well, it was funny when she said it. However, my point is that I have some how become the Kool Aid mom. It seems that not only can I not get rid of my kids for a few hours, I end up with 2 or 3 extras. Not that I mind. I don't always mind. Sometimes I mind. Some how the other parents have figured out that I don't work anymore and they started sending their kids over after school. This means we never have food in the house. I am simply amazed at how much 11 year old girls can eat! And their drama. Oy, someone is always mad at another and they have to IM about it repeatedly. At the very least I know where my kid is, who she's with, and what they're doing.
I have also become they're personal chauffer. Not one of these other parents can drive these kids anywhere. They won't even split the duty and drop off or pick up. I get both. The beauty of it is that they don't even come up with a cheap excuse about why they can't (which is totally what I would do) they just say "No, I'm not taking you anywhere." My sister in law says they know I'll drive if they won't, so why would they bother? If I don't drive them to the dance/movies, then that means they stay at my house all night and, well, I need the break.
I also get to host many sleepovers that are planned at whatever excursion I've driven them to. That means more snacks, drinks, and pancake breakfasts.
They’re not bad kids. Most of them are pretty nice. I’m glad that I can do this. Many parents work and can’t have kids over after school. Besides, they’ll be grown up before we know it, right?
I have to go now. The posse of pre teens currently invading my house wants to use the computer to watch the Black Eyed Peas “My Humps” video for the tenth time today.

Where are those Want Ads anyway?

Baby Talk

2005-11-23T11:21:00.000-08:00

My baby has entered that great stage of talking. It's cute. She says all kinds of funny things like "I nake!" when she takes off her jammies and "I stuck!" when her head is caught in the kitchen chair. The thing she says most often is "Where Lila?"
Lila is my four year old and Violet's hero. She asks for her all the time. Five in the morning - "Where Lila?". Again at six am "Where Lila?". As soon as she gets up from a nap - "Where Lila?". Sitting next to Lila on the couch "Where Lila?". You get the point, right? Our oldest is jealous as hell. It drives her nuts that the baby is so obsessed with Lila. Especially when Lila gets up in the morning. You'd think the Queen had come to tea. When Violet hears Lila coming down the stairs she runs around yelling "Lila! Lila! Lila!" And when her Majesty enters the room Violet throws her arms around her neck and gives her a kiss. It's all very precious.

Jasmine hates every second of it.