You can usually tell what kind of day I'm having by how many toys make it up to "the high shelf." Yeah. Rough day.P.S. The warthog on the wall is not a toy. And that is not a prominent wall in our home.
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Friday, May 21, 2010
The High Shelf
You can usually tell what kind of day I'm having by how many toys make it up to "the high shelf." Yeah. Rough day.P.S. The warthog on the wall is not a toy. And that is not a prominent wall in our home.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
It's the Sauce
What is the frickin' deal!?! I forgot to bring my trusty bottle of Tabasco sauce to work yesterday, the result being my veggies and cheese sandwich was beyond bland and practically inedible. It never used to be like this. Are the taste buds the first things to go? Not that the rest of me is completely intact, but c'mon!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Goodbye Darkness My Old Friend
Little voices woke me up this morning, as usual. But when I opened my eyes, it was sunny! Not dawn's-early-light sunny, like I'm used to. No, it was bright, bold, it's-a-new-day sunny. So I say good riddance Daylight Saving Time, and hello earlier bedtimes and waking up long after the rooster crows. Pretty sure I just jinxed myself big time . . .
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sweet Somethings No. 8
Snook can be a little, shall we say, mouthy. I call her on it all the time. But lately when I call her on it, this is what happens:
S: (in response to some request) No!
Me: I don't like that voice.
S: I was talking to the door.
S: You mean mommy!
Me: That's not a nice thing to say.
S: I was talking to the ceiling fan.
S: Stop it or I will put you in a time out!
Me: Excuse me?
S: I was talking to the window.
S: I don't like you anymore!
Me: Use your nice words.
S: I was talking to the dollhouse.
The good thing is we both end up smiling, situation diffused. The bad thing is she isn't getting any less mouthy.
S: (in response to some request) No!
Me: I don't like that voice.
S: I was talking to the door.
S: You mean mommy!
Me: That's not a nice thing to say.
S: I was talking to the ceiling fan.
S: Stop it or I will put you in a time out!
Me: Excuse me?
S: I was talking to the window.
S: I don't like you anymore!
Me: Use your nice words.
S: I was talking to the dollhouse.
The good thing is we both end up smiling, situation diffused. The bad thing is she isn't getting any less mouthy.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Fairy Day Miracles
Amy and I braved Fairy Day at Quail Botanical Gardens with our wee ones a few weekends back. I say "braved" because the "organizers" of this event somehow failed to anticipate that more than just four kids were probably going to show up. So it wasn't particularly prudent to have just four seats at the wand-coloring/crown-making/doll-crafting stations. Because if you do, what happens is that while just four kids are painstakingly creating their wands/crowns/dolls, all of the other hundreds of kids are having to wait their turns for a long long time in the hot hot sun, and that's just no fun. But our girls (and Bubs) did miraculously get their turns.
Stamping.
Crown-making.
Wand-coloring.
And it was fun. More miraculously, the little siblings were quite patient throughout all this.
The grand finale was meeting the fairy queen.
After our hot morning, we treated ourselves to a fabulous lunch at Tony's Jacal on their cool patio near a cool fountain with some cool (in some cases alcoholic) beverages. Aaaaaah! Definitely worth the wait.
Stamping.
Crown-making.
Wand-coloring.
And it was fun. More miraculously, the little siblings were quite patient throughout all this.
The grand finale was meeting the fairy queen.
After our hot morning, we treated ourselves to a fabulous lunch at Tony's Jacal on their cool patio near a cool fountain with some cool (in some cases alcoholic) beverages. Aaaaaah! Definitely worth the wait.
C-A-R-E-F-U-L
I don't think this happens as much with modern-day computer keyboards. But if you look at the keypads on an old typewriter, you can usually tell which letters got the most use by how faded they are. Sometimes when I'm with the kids, I imagine that if I was a retired, antique typewriter, these letters would be completely rubbed off: C-A-R-E-F-U-L. Because that's all I ever seem to say. Ever. Bubs is standing on the backyard swing. Careful. Snook is jumping precariously close to the edge of the bed. Careful. Bubs is running around the slippery hardwood floors, dripping wet from his bath. Careful. Snook is diving head first over the back of the couch. Careful. Bubs is laying on top of the cat. Careful. Snook is putting one of the H's belts around Bubs' neck. Careful. On and on and so it goes. I suppose a broken record would have worked just as well.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Survivor = Mother
I'm not a Survivor fan, but I'm dealing with a lot of "Mom" issues today (low-grade fever, runny noses, puke, nap aversion, sleep deprivation, messy house . . .). So I thought I'd post this shout-out to all Moms today that my aunt sent to me this week. I thought it was a pretty funny take on an old idea.
NEW SURVIVOR SERIES
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 2 kids each for six weeks.
Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 2 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time--no emailing.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.
He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.
During one of the six weeks , the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information:
each child's birthday,
height,
weight,
shoe size,
clothes size
doctor's name.
Also, the child's:
weight at birth,
length,
time of birth,
and length of labor,
each child's favorite color,
middle name,
favorite snack,
favorite song,
favorite drink,
favorite toy,
biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance.
The last man wins only if... he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right to be called--Mother!
NEW SURVIVOR SERIES
Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 2 kids each for six weeks.
Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes.
There is no fast food.
Each man must take care of his 2 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, and complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of 'pretend' bills with not enough money.
In addition, each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.
Each man must remember the birthdays of all their friends and relatives, and send cards out on time--no emailing.
Each man must also take each child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment and a haircut appointment.
He must make one unscheduled and inconvenient visit per child to the Urgent Care.
He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.
Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keeping it presentable at all times.
The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done.
The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, adorn himself with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep fingernails polished and eyebrows groomed.
During one of the six weeks , the men will have to endure severe abdominal cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings but never once complain or slow down from other duties.
They must attend weekly school meetings, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.
They will need to read a book to the kids each night and in the morning, feed them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair by 7:00 am.
A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information:
each child's birthday,
height,
weight,
shoe size,
clothes size
doctor's name.
Also, the child's:
weight at birth,
length,
time of birth,
and length of labor,
each child's favorite color,
middle name,
favorite snack,
favorite song,
favorite drink,
favorite toy,
biggest fear and
what they want to be when they grow up.
The kids vote them off the island based on performance.
The last man wins only if... he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moment's notice.
If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years eventually earning the right to be called--Mother!
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