Yesterday I told the crazies the truth. Actually, what got me to do it was the fact that my Oldest, who is twelve, still believes in the tooth fairy. Now, my Girl has had her doubts and has even accused me of the various gifting of change in large amounts into a cup that she'd find in the morning, but I have always sort of lied and acted dumb. It has disturbed me greatly of late to see that my son would leave notes pleading with the tooth fairy to spare an extra buck or two. It is equally disturbing to see his eyes shine at the thought of something fluttery, pink, and prissy, armed with a wand. I think. I have had to tell mountains of lies about what this thing looks like, what she or it does with the teeth, you know.
So the Professor had this grand idea to put a note next to my son's cup of change with Lord of the Rings script on it. The Oldest would enter the bathroom and find the note, unable to decipher it. Grand idea. He meticulously copied the characters and I scanned them as well to make sure it did not look like his small, cramped print that only the Professor could write himself. This was to lightly inform the boy that the tooth fairy is not real. Not my idea. I just wanted to out right tell them.
I got up the next morning forgetting all about it. Finally as I was making coffee the note was shoved in my face and my son said, "This is Lord of the Rings code!" He was angry.
I ignored him, feigning fatigue and disorientation.
He proceeded to get one of the books from our library and yelled out, "This is from the back of the book! Did you write this?! This looks sort of like Dad's writing!"
I continued to make coffee. Just keep the money and be happy dude. Not my idea.
It was a constant subject of the day. Why would a fairy write in Lord of the Rings language? Gee, I don't know, maybe all the fairies come from Middle-Earth! Maybe Gimli and Legolas, whenever they would lose baby teeth, would anxiously await some sort of mithril or something to cascade into their goblets while they were asleep.
I got sick of hearing about it. This note---this thing that was not my doing anyway. "Dad doesn't write that good, Mom must have done it." (I realize that was poor grammar)
This sealed it. They could not pin the note on me.
So later on in the day I was having issues with keeping my cool because I was being back talked all day long. I decided then and there to drop the bomb. I called all the kids from upstairs where I had banished them.
"Who is the tooth fairy?" I asked. I had my hand on my hip, mouth puckered in slight anger.
They all stood there silent and confused. The Oldest clutched his book tighter. Eraser Eater looked at the wall but had a slight smile. The Girl looked a bit bewildered.
"Santa Claus?" I asked----to sort of taunt them.
Eraser Eater's smile got bigger. "Daddy!?" he squealed.
"No," I said sharply. "And it is nothing imaginary. Do you think that I would allow some weird fairy to come into my house? Do you think I would allow something unnatural to take my children's teeth? Don't you think that is a little frightening and odd?"
They all had crestfallen faces. The Girl lifted her arm and pointed, face shrewd. "You!" she yelled.
The Oldest's mouth dropped open in shock. "How could you?!"
I don't know what I expected. I didn't expect anything, really.
"I did think that it could have been an angel at one point," said Eraser Eater, "but I wasn't sure."
"I did think it was you for a long time," said the Girl, "but then I thought of all the money you would have had to touch and I can not imagine you holding coins. Did you have to hold them all that time? I'm sorry."
"Yes, I did hold the money, but I just washed my hands, you know, once I dropped the coins in the cup," I said with a nod to the Girl.
"Does this mean we don't get money if we lose a tooth anymore?!" the Oldest yelped hoarsely.
7/04/2008
7/02/2008
The Great Pool Story
I am an observant person for the most part, so the pool is always a delightful way to spend a silent afternoon. At least, of course, I would be silent and spectating. I don't think I stand out much, except for the red sunglasses, and I don't have a figure to be scorned for. I just sit there and either watch people and my children or read a book and take notes.
Yesterday a mother who lives down the street from me brought her three daughters in. They seemed harmless enough to me, but she kept yelling at them over sitting on a towel, or not standing in the right place. And when she would yell something the second time, she would put her gut in it and growl. Being about four chairs down, it wasn't a pleasant experience. It started to get really annoying because she was yelling constantly in the pool and out of it. And not only that, I noticed that she had a certain tone quality that matched the Oldest's voice (imagine that) and a semi-growling Mickey Mouse was on the loose. I thought my ears would burst.
Near the end of our stay I sat by the pool and watched the Girl do tricks. While this was happening a few good-for-nothing girls approached me and asked me what my daughter's name was (who was close to their age). I told them. Five minutes later they came up and asked me what my Oldest son's name was (I knew this was coming). I told them. Five minutes from then they came to me and told me that he called one of the girls a "brat".
I said, "Well, were you being a brat?"
She could barely look at me. "Uh, no."
I half smiled and said, "Sure, I can talk to him. But would you like me to spank him for you?"
Their eyes went wide and they laughed. One said yes, the others said no. I was being totally sarcastic because I knew the girls were up to no good.
When leaving I said to the Oldest, "so are you name calling or are those girls just being trouble?"
"I did not call them brats mom."
"They told me you called that one girl a brat. If you did, name calling is never appropriate. Some day some guy is going to give you a good sock in the face. People have hard lives and they get mad over little stuff easily. It's good to keep your mouth shut."
"Oh, I know what you said about the spanking thing, I am NOT happy about it," flamed the Oldest.
I had to have a little giggle behind my hand, "What did they say to you?"
"They said you wanted to spank me."
"I was being sarcastic. Their fault for not taking my message. I don't believe a word they say."
"Good. They just don't like me...."
And he went on about how they torture him for no reason and how now that he has made a friend they are trying to plot the friend against him. I really don't get kids. I know my son can be annoying and rude because of his Asperger's, but do I REALLY have to shout it to the world to make them understand this?
The drive home was full of words.
"I am very glad that you guys obey immediately when I tell you that we have to go home. Thank you."
"Are you saying that because those girls with that yelling mother didn't obey her?" asked the Oldest.
"Yeah, a little."
"Does that make you feel better than her?"
I tell you, with this dude you get it straight. "No, man. I don't feel better than her. I feel like you guys are well-behaved kids and I am happy about that. Thank you."
"So does that mean you ARE better than her?"
"No."
"She yells all the time."
"Yes, she does."
"You don't."
"No..."
"Some moms think that their kids are the kids that do nothing wrong, like, 'not my angel! He wouldn't do that!'" said Eraser-Eater from the back, "Even if they are bad they never think their kids are bad!"
"Our Mom is so not like that!" yelled the Girl.
"Yeah! She knows we're not angels!" yelled Eraser Eater.
I almost laughed but I couldn't get the image of the big fat booger hanging out of the teenager's nose as he swam around in the pool. It was huge. And when he turned around again, it had gone---gone into the abyss of chlorine and kid sweat, swirling probably on to one of my angel's swim suits, infecting it. That is when I pointed my finger as I stood alongside the pool and waved it back and forth, which always means, "you, you, you, we leave the premises, now."
Yesterday a mother who lives down the street from me brought her three daughters in. They seemed harmless enough to me, but she kept yelling at them over sitting on a towel, or not standing in the right place. And when she would yell something the second time, she would put her gut in it and growl. Being about four chairs down, it wasn't a pleasant experience. It started to get really annoying because she was yelling constantly in the pool and out of it. And not only that, I noticed that she had a certain tone quality that matched the Oldest's voice (imagine that) and a semi-growling Mickey Mouse was on the loose. I thought my ears would burst.
Near the end of our stay I sat by the pool and watched the Girl do tricks. While this was happening a few good-for-nothing girls approached me and asked me what my daughter's name was (who was close to their age). I told them. Five minutes later they came up and asked me what my Oldest son's name was (I knew this was coming). I told them. Five minutes from then they came to me and told me that he called one of the girls a "brat".
I said, "Well, were you being a brat?"
She could barely look at me. "Uh, no."
I half smiled and said, "Sure, I can talk to him. But would you like me to spank him for you?"
Their eyes went wide and they laughed. One said yes, the others said no. I was being totally sarcastic because I knew the girls were up to no good.
When leaving I said to the Oldest, "so are you name calling or are those girls just being trouble?"
"I did not call them brats mom."
"They told me you called that one girl a brat. If you did, name calling is never appropriate. Some day some guy is going to give you a good sock in the face. People have hard lives and they get mad over little stuff easily. It's good to keep your mouth shut."
"Oh, I know what you said about the spanking thing, I am NOT happy about it," flamed the Oldest.
I had to have a little giggle behind my hand, "What did they say to you?"
"They said you wanted to spank me."
"I was being sarcastic. Their fault for not taking my message. I don't believe a word they say."
"Good. They just don't like me...."
And he went on about how they torture him for no reason and how now that he has made a friend they are trying to plot the friend against him. I really don't get kids. I know my son can be annoying and rude because of his Asperger's, but do I REALLY have to shout it to the world to make them understand this?
The drive home was full of words.
"I am very glad that you guys obey immediately when I tell you that we have to go home. Thank you."
"Are you saying that because those girls with that yelling mother didn't obey her?" asked the Oldest.
"Yeah, a little."
"Does that make you feel better than her?"
I tell you, with this dude you get it straight. "No, man. I don't feel better than her. I feel like you guys are well-behaved kids and I am happy about that. Thank you."
"So does that mean you ARE better than her?"
"No."
"She yells all the time."
"Yes, she does."
"You don't."
"No..."
"Some moms think that their kids are the kids that do nothing wrong, like, 'not my angel! He wouldn't do that!'" said Eraser-Eater from the back, "Even if they are bad they never think their kids are bad!"
"Our Mom is so not like that!" yelled the Girl.
"Yeah! She knows we're not angels!" yelled Eraser Eater.
I almost laughed but I couldn't get the image of the big fat booger hanging out of the teenager's nose as he swam around in the pool. It was huge. And when he turned around again, it had gone---gone into the abyss of chlorine and kid sweat, swirling probably on to one of my angel's swim suits, infecting it. That is when I pointed my finger as I stood alongside the pool and waved it back and forth, which always means, "you, you, you, we leave the premises, now."
7/01/2008
Apples to Apples
My Oldest thinks the game Apples to Apples is the greatest thing. He begged me to play it with him the other night alongside the Girl. As smart as the Girl is, she never really quite gets the whole idea---well, she totally does, but she always picks the off the wall answer instead of the right on target one. And if the player happens to be me and she is the judge, she always picks my answer no matter how bad. I am mom, mom rules, you know?
I have never seen a girl quite so obsessed. She reaches across the table for me at dinner time, excuses herself for five seconds and runs to my side to give me a hug. While we are running an errand she calls me and I look in the rear view. She is stretching her arms out as if she is drowning saying, "I need a hug!" She goes outside and comes back in every ten minutes or so to bestow upon me yet another hug. When I run on the treadmill she stands on the side of it and watches me sweat but smiles sweetly. "When you are done I want a hug. I don't care if you are sweaty and you have braces. You are the best mom ever!" When at the pool she pulls herself out of it from time to time to smile and rest her head on my leg. "I hope you are done reading that book! I want a hug!"
So the word was "dangerous".
I had "bullfighting" and the Oldest had "zipper."
The Girl was the judge. She looked keenly at the card that said "dangerous" and then looked swiftly at "bullfighting" and "zipper."
"Bullfighting is pretty dangerous," she said.
"Yes, but zippers are more dangerous!" piped the Oldest with a smile. "Feel bad for me," he said, knowing she was leaning my way, "once, a long time ago, I was zipping up my pants and I accidentally zipped up my peter. It was horrible----it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad that I have never forgotten it, even now when I zip up my pants! I have to move back a little just to avoid it."
The Girl gave a truly deep from her heart sort of moan. Her eyes squinted in pure sympathy. She looked like she had a tummy ache. He got her. She fingered the bullfighting card, aimed it at me like she was in turmoil---she for once did not know who to pick. She gave a cramped look and handed the card to the Oldest. He yelped in triumph, happy he got a second card.
I have never seen a girl quite so obsessed. She reaches across the table for me at dinner time, excuses herself for five seconds and runs to my side to give me a hug. While we are running an errand she calls me and I look in the rear view. She is stretching her arms out as if she is drowning saying, "I need a hug!" She goes outside and comes back in every ten minutes or so to bestow upon me yet another hug. When I run on the treadmill she stands on the side of it and watches me sweat but smiles sweetly. "When you are done I want a hug. I don't care if you are sweaty and you have braces. You are the best mom ever!" When at the pool she pulls herself out of it from time to time to smile and rest her head on my leg. "I hope you are done reading that book! I want a hug!"
So the word was "dangerous".
I had "bullfighting" and the Oldest had "zipper."
The Girl was the judge. She looked keenly at the card that said "dangerous" and then looked swiftly at "bullfighting" and "zipper."
"Bullfighting is pretty dangerous," she said.
"Yes, but zippers are more dangerous!" piped the Oldest with a smile. "Feel bad for me," he said, knowing she was leaning my way, "once, a long time ago, I was zipping up my pants and I accidentally zipped up my peter. It was horrible----it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad that I have never forgotten it, even now when I zip up my pants! I have to move back a little just to avoid it."
The Girl gave a truly deep from her heart sort of moan. Her eyes squinted in pure sympathy. She looked like she had a tummy ache. He got her. She fingered the bullfighting card, aimed it at me like she was in turmoil---she for once did not know who to pick. She gave a cramped look and handed the card to the Oldest. He yelped in triumph, happy he got a second card.
6/27/2008
6/25/2008
Braces and Working
I am finally getting used to the braces. By next week I will be going back to the ortho and they will put in heavier wiring in addition to pulling things tighter. So, once you get used to it all, you are back to the pain game. The freaky thing is that my teeth are all loose, so it feels sort of strange that I can jolt my molars and whatnot around with my tongue.
I have been chewing gum like a mad woman (the acceptable sugarless kind) so I do not experience severe halitosis like Shealy warned. So far it has been going well. Except you find all manner of people who enjoy the lingering smell of watermelon or blueberry so much that they ask you if you have a spare stick. Last night one of my co-workers (she is a teenager) asked me for a piece of my fabulous smelling gum. For some reason I have no issues saying no or ordering her around since she at times has no idea what she is doing. I did give her a piece eventually though.
Another associate approached us as we were labeling merchandise and started speaking German to the teenager. They both started off in their language, waving their arms about.
"Hey," I said, "To speak another language that you know another associate does not speak is forbidden."
They looked at me with wide eyes. "Diversity training," I said, "remember?"
The intruding associate walked off.
"She was just telling me that I had dirt all over my {rear end}," the teenager said.
I have been chewing gum like a mad woman (the acceptable sugarless kind) so I do not experience severe halitosis like Shealy warned. So far it has been going well. Except you find all manner of people who enjoy the lingering smell of watermelon or blueberry so much that they ask you if you have a spare stick. Last night one of my co-workers (she is a teenager) asked me for a piece of my fabulous smelling gum. For some reason I have no issues saying no or ordering her around since she at times has no idea what she is doing. I did give her a piece eventually though.
Another associate approached us as we were labeling merchandise and started speaking German to the teenager. They both started off in their language, waving their arms about.
"Hey," I said, "To speak another language that you know another associate does not speak is forbidden."
They looked at me with wide eyes. "Diversity training," I said, "remember?"
The intruding associate walked off.
"She was just telling me that I had dirt all over my {rear end}," the teenager said.
6/19/2008
Parent's Day
I forgot to post about Father's Day.
Everyone seems to be posting about it and I completely ignored it. We went to the Professor's sister's house for the festivities and then went home and called the Prof's Dad.
I got the Prof. an Adidas jacket (that is green, mind you---I couldn't help myself), a tie, and a silicon barbecue baster. He made these incredible ribs (with some help from his wife) and now he is Bobby Flay.
He needed a utensil since he got me a knife set for Mother's Day. Yes, a knife set. Doozie would be proud.
The fact is, I really can't stand Mother's or Father's Day. I think that it is silly to have a day where you are celebrated for being a parent and then you don't have to be a parent for the day. But I am sure everyone says that. I remember when Mother's Day hit people behind counters and at various stores and what not kept saying, "Have a happy Mother's Day!"
Not a kid was in sight. "How do you know I am a mother?" I would ask.
"I didn't. I just hope you have a happy Mother's Day," they would say.
"Do I look like a mother?"
"No, actually, you don't, but it is a holiday so I thought I would say happy Mother's Day anyway."
Is it like "Merry Christmas?"
I don't get it. Really, I don't.
Everyone seems to be posting about it and I completely ignored it. We went to the Professor's sister's house for the festivities and then went home and called the Prof's Dad.
I got the Prof. an Adidas jacket (that is green, mind you---I couldn't help myself), a tie, and a silicon barbecue baster. He made these incredible ribs (with some help from his wife) and now he is Bobby Flay.
He needed a utensil since he got me a knife set for Mother's Day. Yes, a knife set. Doozie would be proud.
The fact is, I really can't stand Mother's or Father's Day. I think that it is silly to have a day where you are celebrated for being a parent and then you don't have to be a parent for the day. But I am sure everyone says that. I remember when Mother's Day hit people behind counters and at various stores and what not kept saying, "Have a happy Mother's Day!"
Not a kid was in sight. "How do you know I am a mother?" I would ask.
"I didn't. I just hope you have a happy Mother's Day," they would say.
"Do I look like a mother?"
"No, actually, you don't, but it is a holiday so I thought I would say happy Mother's Day anyway."
Is it like "Merry Christmas?"
I don't get it. Really, I don't.
6/17/2008
Appendix
Yesterday was not a good day. I can, however, look at it now and laugh at it.
Right when I was doing a little recording Eraser Eater was moaning about on the couch saying that his "thigh" hurt. It is not uncommon for the boy to whine about nothing just for the sake of attention and his apparent love of crying. {he has actually admitted that he loves to cry} I had no tolerance for it. Finally, after more and more whining, I went to him to see what was the matter. Apparently he was experiencing pain in his abdomen/groin area, not his thigh. He was refusing to walk or stand up straight; he would crawl around if he was not on the love seat drawing his designs. He also cried out a little when I pressed on the area with my hand.
At some point during the day the Professor called. "Oh yeah," I said, "{Eraser Eater} says that his abdomen hurts."
The Professor was very concerned. He wondered why I wasn't. "I don't know why you are so non-challant about this, Rach," he said. To be honest, I had not hydrated myself properly and my back hurt, so I was not in the mood to deal with Eraser Eater's issues. I figured if it were his appendix, the pain would be on the other side and he would be screaming. I had the Oldest pour him a glass of water. The Professor insisted that I call the doctor before I had to go to work later that night.
So I did.
And I got him in.
And they thought maybe it was a hernia and he needed an ultrasound the next day.
So they scheduled one and I went home and made dinner before work.
As we were eating, Eraser Eater put down his second sandwich (we had croissant sandwiches) and said, "I have to poop."
I rolled my eyes.
After he bombed the house with his stench, I called him to me. "Do you feel any more pain?"
"Nope!" He smiled.
"Let me press your area," I said.
I pressed it.
He laughed.
I canceled the ultrasound.
I called the Professor. "He had to go to the bathroom," I said, pretty angrily.
"Yeah, I thought that was it at first," he said.
I wondered at that moment if gnawing on the wooden chair next to me would be appropriate.
Right when I was doing a little recording Eraser Eater was moaning about on the couch saying that his "thigh" hurt. It is not uncommon for the boy to whine about nothing just for the sake of attention and his apparent love of crying. {he has actually admitted that he loves to cry} I had no tolerance for it. Finally, after more and more whining, I went to him to see what was the matter. Apparently he was experiencing pain in his abdomen/groin area, not his thigh. He was refusing to walk or stand up straight; he would crawl around if he was not on the love seat drawing his designs. He also cried out a little when I pressed on the area with my hand.
At some point during the day the Professor called. "Oh yeah," I said, "{Eraser Eater} says that his abdomen hurts."
The Professor was very concerned. He wondered why I wasn't. "I don't know why you are so non-challant about this, Rach," he said. To be honest, I had not hydrated myself properly and my back hurt, so I was not in the mood to deal with Eraser Eater's issues. I figured if it were his appendix, the pain would be on the other side and he would be screaming. I had the Oldest pour him a glass of water. The Professor insisted that I call the doctor before I had to go to work later that night.
So I did.
And I got him in.
And they thought maybe it was a hernia and he needed an ultrasound the next day.
So they scheduled one and I went home and made dinner before work.
As we were eating, Eraser Eater put down his second sandwich (we had croissant sandwiches) and said, "I have to poop."
I rolled my eyes.
After he bombed the house with his stench, I called him to me. "Do you feel any more pain?"
"Nope!" He smiled.
"Let me press your area," I said.
I pressed it.
He laughed.
I canceled the ultrasound.
I called the Professor. "He had to go to the bathroom," I said, pretty angrily.
"Yeah, I thought that was it at first," he said.
I wondered at that moment if gnawing on the wooden chair next to me would be appropriate.
6/12/2008
Yet Another Song Up
I am really sorry but I have another song that I finished or just sort of finished. At least I am done with it for now.
Go give it a listen. And um, really do it this time, k? I bet you all are so sick of this!!! Ha ha.
Go give it a listen. And um, really do it this time, k? I bet you all are so sick of this!!! Ha ha.
6/09/2008
New Song Alert
I just semi-finished a crazy song called You Watch Me on my podcast. Go give it a listen, pronto.
6/08/2008
Learning
What I learned outside in the real world this week:
1. I don't look like I would like the Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland. (The funny thing is, I have been talking about it this week on here and I didn't mention it. Someone at work asked me what my favorite Disney film was and I answered and she replied. Hers was Cinderella.)
2. I have been married too long because I didn't know the meaning of metrosexual. A fellow employee was talking about how he needed to get his eyebrows plucked and I gave him a pat on the shoulder to notify him that he is indeed a guy and should not worry about such trivial things.
3. I look like a Charlotte if my name were not my own name. Make sense? Huh.
4. I look like other people I work with because one lady said that I looked identical to another associate and she thought I was helping her, which I wasn't. For the record, I looked nothing like my fellow associate. Nothing. That lady is on crack.
5. I am good at finding things, but of course, I knew this.
6. If you don't eat food you forget to give people their receipts.
7. When water touches leather excessively without getting wiped, it ruins it.
8. I am "proper." I think it is because I don't let the kids watch Shrek because they burp and fart on there.
And I am out of stuff.
1. I don't look like I would like the Disney movie, Alice in Wonderland. (The funny thing is, I have been talking about it this week on here and I didn't mention it. Someone at work asked me what my favorite Disney film was and I answered and she replied. Hers was Cinderella.)
2. I have been married too long because I didn't know the meaning of metrosexual. A fellow employee was talking about how he needed to get his eyebrows plucked and I gave him a pat on the shoulder to notify him that he is indeed a guy and should not worry about such trivial things.
3. I look like a Charlotte if my name were not my own name. Make sense? Huh.
4. I look like other people I work with because one lady said that I looked identical to another associate and she thought I was helping her, which I wasn't. For the record, I looked nothing like my fellow associate. Nothing. That lady is on crack.
5. I am good at finding things, but of course, I knew this.
6. If you don't eat food you forget to give people their receipts.
7. When water touches leather excessively without getting wiped, it ruins it.
8. I am "proper." I think it is because I don't let the kids watch Shrek because they burp and fart on there.
And I am out of stuff.
6/06/2008
Deaf Child
"Don't tell her, Mom, she can't keep secrets!" roared Eraser-Eater this morning.
She was asking about the neighbor and all this stuff going on that I can't explain because it is "adulty".
"But I won't say anything!" she yelped.
"Yeah, she will!" said Eraser Eater. "She almost told Dad about a birthday present you got him last week, and then last father's day when you got him a popcorn maker she blabbed that out, so I wouldn't say anything to her.
That's the day when {the Oldest} said, 'what? a pasta maker?' Like, we would ever get Dad a pasta maker. He doesn't even like pasta! And he can't even hear! Popcorn maker?! Pasta Maker?! We need to get a deaf child sign for the front of our street with him around!" He was waving one arm up in the air and skipping from one foot to the other.
"Hey! I can hear cars!" barked the Oldest from behind a book.
I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand and make breakfast. Life with the Oldest IS like this.
"I will be there in a minute," I would say.
"You will be here in a limit? What's that supposed to mean?" he would respond, completely offended.
"I'm losing interest," I would say.
"You're making cookies for breakfast?" he would respond, very eager to eat this special breakfast.
He comes up with weird stuff and he is totally not messing with me. He even gets angry if the statement does not make sense like I am the one trying to fool him. Either he has a hearing problem or he is so focused on whatever it is he is doing that he only hears the tail end then guesses. I think it is the first and the Prof. thinks it is the latter. I guess he could get his ears checked but last time he was normal. Still funny though. Poor kid.
She was asking about the neighbor and all this stuff going on that I can't explain because it is "adulty".
"But I won't say anything!" she yelped.
"Yeah, she will!" said Eraser Eater. "She almost told Dad about a birthday present you got him last week, and then last father's day when you got him a popcorn maker she blabbed that out, so I wouldn't say anything to her.
That's the day when {the Oldest} said, 'what? a pasta maker?' Like, we would ever get Dad a pasta maker. He doesn't even like pasta! And he can't even hear! Popcorn maker?! Pasta Maker?! We need to get a deaf child sign for the front of our street with him around!" He was waving one arm up in the air and skipping from one foot to the other.
"Hey! I can hear cars!" barked the Oldest from behind a book.
I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand and make breakfast. Life with the Oldest IS like this.
"I will be there in a minute," I would say.
"You will be here in a limit? What's that supposed to mean?" he would respond, completely offended.
"I'm losing interest," I would say.
"You're making cookies for breakfast?" he would respond, very eager to eat this special breakfast.
He comes up with weird stuff and he is totally not messing with me. He even gets angry if the statement does not make sense like I am the one trying to fool him. Either he has a hearing problem or he is so focused on whatever it is he is doing that he only hears the tail end then guesses. I think it is the first and the Prof. thinks it is the latter. I guess he could get his ears checked but last time he was normal. Still funny though. Poor kid.
6/04/2008
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
When I was a little girl I read Lewis Carroll's Alice and enjoyed it much. I think though that I had more of an interest in the Disney movie than the book itself because I remember not really getting the humor or understanding what was going on as well as say, one of my homeschooled children. My seven year old daughter could hear excerpts and be rolling around on the floor laughing.
About a month ago I was reading the book to my daughter and found myself enjoying it so much that last night I sneaked it up into bed and read until I feel asleep. The Professor sat next to me Brady style and read his Calvin's Institutes. He has been reading this book for about eight years, no joke. I was laughing so hard when reading the poem "Old Father William" that he stared at me and shook his head.
"Please don't read it to me," he said.
I had already read him a small excerpt of when Alice was swimming in her own tears and talking to a small mouse who was also swimming for its life. She kept talking about her cat Dinah and forgetting that mice don't like cats and the mouse was getting hotly offended. It was just funny. I was giggling as I read it to him but he cut me off in the middle and said, "is it almost over?" like Calvin is so much more interesting. He in turn read his book to me for a spell and I hardly understood what was going on. I consider myself a fairly smart individual.
So here is my two favorite stanzas of William because it made me laugh so hard:
"'You are old', said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak---
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'
'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'"
I have no idea really why it struck me so funny. The Professor later said to me in a voice of warning, "You know, that Victorians book I have says that Carroll was a weirdo."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Um, I know."
Weirdos are just ridiculously funny people.
About a month ago I was reading the book to my daughter and found myself enjoying it so much that last night I sneaked it up into bed and read until I feel asleep. The Professor sat next to me Brady style and read his Calvin's Institutes. He has been reading this book for about eight years, no joke. I was laughing so hard when reading the poem "Old Father William" that he stared at me and shook his head.
"Please don't read it to me," he said.
I had already read him a small excerpt of when Alice was swimming in her own tears and talking to a small mouse who was also swimming for its life. She kept talking about her cat Dinah and forgetting that mice don't like cats and the mouse was getting hotly offended. It was just funny. I was giggling as I read it to him but he cut me off in the middle and said, "is it almost over?" like Calvin is so much more interesting. He in turn read his book to me for a spell and I hardly understood what was going on. I consider myself a fairly smart individual.
So here is my two favorite stanzas of William because it made me laugh so hard:
"'You are old', said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak---
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'
'In my youth,' said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'"
I have no idea really why it struck me so funny. The Professor later said to me in a voice of warning, "You know, that Victorians book I have says that Carroll was a weirdo."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Um, I know."
Weirdos are just ridiculously funny people.
6/02/2008
A Little Coaxing
When schooling the kids the other day I gave Eraser Eater a list of words to look up in the dictionary since I have to occupy him with supplemental work:
1. vile
2. baleful
3. irate
4. insolent
5. morbid
6. sanguine
Don't you love the last word? So nice. I thought it stood out so well among the others.
I took the Girl and the crew to a water park about an hour away on Friday for her birthday celebration. We had a good time. The Prof remained at work and my sister in law and her kids came along. We also brought the neighbor girl. They all had a blast.
My Oldest was too afraid for the first half of the time to go down the big water slide with an inner tube. He openly wept at one point of sheer frustration that he could not muster up the courage to do it. He would climb all the flights of stairs to get to the top, only to cower down in the corner and watch the line of people meet their doom.
"I can't do it," he would say like Mickey Mouse.
"Look dude. All you have to do is sit in the tube thing and I will push you. Nothing will hurt you," then I proceeded to tell him for the tenth time what you encounter during the long slide down.
He still refused to do it. He would stare at me immobile, like he usually does when he is irrationally, yet neutrally frightened. I don't know how to explain that one---it must be an Aspergian trait he has.
While this was going on, Eraser Eater had already visibly gone down the slide umpteen times. The Oldest was watching him pass by every time out of the corner of his eye.
Finally, once the Girl made the plunge he could stand it no longer. He marched up the steps and made his presence known. I met him up and I was ready. He sat down on the tube and shuddered. "I don't want to go on this anymore..." he squealed.
"Bye!" I said as I pushed him down. At each flight you can see your child round a curve and look at their faces. At first he looked straight up at me and waved his fist in the air exclaiming, "You will pay for this!" Next, he was furrowing his brow and staring at me with a slight smile on his lips. And finally, he was laughing and screeching with his arms up in pure delight. "I love this ride!" he shouted from the bottom.
1. vile
2. baleful
3. irate
4. insolent
5. morbid
6. sanguine
Don't you love the last word? So nice. I thought it stood out so well among the others.
I took the Girl and the crew to a water park about an hour away on Friday for her birthday celebration. We had a good time. The Prof remained at work and my sister in law and her kids came along. We also brought the neighbor girl. They all had a blast.
My Oldest was too afraid for the first half of the time to go down the big water slide with an inner tube. He openly wept at one point of sheer frustration that he could not muster up the courage to do it. He would climb all the flights of stairs to get to the top, only to cower down in the corner and watch the line of people meet their doom.
"I can't do it," he would say like Mickey Mouse.
"Look dude. All you have to do is sit in the tube thing and I will push you. Nothing will hurt you," then I proceeded to tell him for the tenth time what you encounter during the long slide down.
He still refused to do it. He would stare at me immobile, like he usually does when he is irrationally, yet neutrally frightened. I don't know how to explain that one---it must be an Aspergian trait he has.
While this was going on, Eraser Eater had already visibly gone down the slide umpteen times. The Oldest was watching him pass by every time out of the corner of his eye.
Finally, once the Girl made the plunge he could stand it no longer. He marched up the steps and made his presence known. I met him up and I was ready. He sat down on the tube and shuddered. "I don't want to go on this anymore..." he squealed.
"Bye!" I said as I pushed him down. At each flight you can see your child round a curve and look at their faces. At first he looked straight up at me and waved his fist in the air exclaiming, "You will pay for this!" Next, he was furrowing his brow and staring at me with a slight smile on his lips. And finally, he was laughing and screeching with his arms up in pure delight. "I love this ride!" he shouted from the bottom.
5/28/2008
The Pitiful Personage
I took the Oldest to piano lesson and fell asleep in the car. I keep thinking that youth has escaped me.
My sister in law left nearly a whole cheesecake in my fridge from Memorial Day and it says on the box that each slice is five HUNDRED calories. I am still steadily eating a piece a day and feeling slightly guilty although I have been eating less since I can't eat with these blasted braces on. But the fat intake is a tad alarming. Let's not talk about it.
I get excited every time my favorite time of day hits: around four o'clock. I think that this is the time when I start to make dinner, pour myself a glass of wine and enjoy the sun while I grill. But I realized what was missing, why it never meets my expectations. I feel the excitement but then it slowly streams into a dull ache that ends in a headache from the wine--- I miss all my friends from Idaho that I used to chat with before and during the making of meals. That is the sort of emptiness I feel when I see a wine bottle and no one to share it with. Or a comfortable patio set with no one to sit in it with me. The Professor does what he can----he will help me out and drink a beer (or even a glass of wine) to give me the same sensation as in years gone by, but again, it is not the same. He is a part of me, and WE are missing THEM.
I know I always sound depressing, but I am of the miserable lot that enjoys a little bit of dreariness at various times of the day just for effect. The Professor calls me "dramatic".
This past weekend the man took the crew to the pool while I was at work and they enjoyed a little sun while there. Well, the Prof. got a good deal of sun. He was so burned that he could not walk down the stairs, or move too quickly. He was so burned he had to have his food brought up to him for two days. To lessen his misery and loneliness he had to sit on the bed with his laptop to communicate with people. He would yell down the stairs if he heard any ruckus from the children and say something like, "Be nice to your mom!" And I am finding that I am heavily influenced by Lemony Snickett at the moment. We are currently listening to the Hostile Hospital. Oh, those poor orphans.
Nevermind.
How are you all doing? Fill up my comments area. I am missing all my friends. Take pity.
And don't forget to listen to my sad, bleak and dreary songs here.
5/27/2008
My New Stuff is Up
Thanks to the Oldest I was able to figure out how to record some songs without it sounding completely fuzzy (they are not perfect, but please listen) and dreadful. I am going to change some things most likely at one point, but I thought I would at least put some up for your listening enjoyment.
And get this---the song called "A Sign" is not a Christian song! So there. I can do it.
I'm so wicked.
Look here for all the silliness.
5/22/2008
Morbid Song
This is my cover of "There is a Light that Never Goes Out" by the Smiths. Yes, Morrissey really does sing, "...to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die..." I always loved it since I was a kid.
I played with my thumb instead of a pick because I wanted to help you out with hearing the lyrics. I think it is pretty funny. Morrissey must have been deliciously depressed when he wrote this song.
Now that I hear the song I think I will type out the lyrics for you:
Take me out tonight where there's music and there's people who are young and alive
Driving in your car I never never want to go home because I haven't got one anymore
Take me out tonight because I want to see people and I want to see lights
Driving in your car oh please don't drop me home because it's not my home it's their home and I'm welcome no more
And if a double decker bus crashes into us
to die by your side, such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
to die by your side, well the pleasure the privilege is mine
Take me out tonight, take me anywhere I don't care I don't care I don't care
and in the darkened underpass I thought oh my chance has come at last
And then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask
take me out tonight take me anywhere I don't care I don't care I don't care
driving in your car I never never want to go home because I haven't got one anymore
and if a double decker bus crashes into us
to die by your side such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
to die by your side well the pleasure the privilege is mine
There is a light that never goes out....
I played with my thumb instead of a pick because I wanted to help you out with hearing the lyrics. I think it is pretty funny. Morrissey must have been deliciously depressed when he wrote this song.
Now that I hear the song I think I will type out the lyrics for you:
Take me out tonight where there's music and there's people who are young and alive
Driving in your car I never never want to go home because I haven't got one anymore
Take me out tonight because I want to see people and I want to see lights
Driving in your car oh please don't drop me home because it's not my home it's their home and I'm welcome no more
And if a double decker bus crashes into us
to die by your side, such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
to die by your side, well the pleasure the privilege is mine
Take me out tonight, take me anywhere I don't care I don't care I don't care
and in the darkened underpass I thought oh my chance has come at last
And then a strange fear gripped me and I just couldn't ask
take me out tonight take me anywhere I don't care I don't care I don't care
driving in your car I never never want to go home because I haven't got one anymore
and if a double decker bus crashes into us
to die by your side such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten ton truck kills the both of us
to die by your side well the pleasure the privilege is mine
There is a light that never goes out....
Cheers
Happy Birthday, Americanspark!!!!!
You have now reached the morbid age of thirty. Let's have a moment of silence in your honor.
You have now reached the morbid age of thirty. Let's have a moment of silence in your honor.
5/21/2008
Metal
Today I officially get braces. I mean, I just get them on the bottom half of my mouth. I am not looking forward to it and I don't want to explain it to all of you, but I have some straightening issues way in the back that need attending to. As the dentist and the orthodontist say, it is imperative. I just don't look forward to it at all because I hate metal. Metal in my mouth is worse. Not only do I have to close registers lately and touch coinage, I have to have metallic cords and whatnot in my mouth. This is going to sound ignorant, but will I be able to sing or eat?
I dread this. And I imagine it will not feel good either, contrary to what the ortho says. They are going to drill a screw or two in my gums today. Actually, in about an hour and a half they are going to do this. I can handle root canals and tooth extractions, but I am not sure I can handle a little Home Depot in my mouth. I just hope they don't think of some way to put gauze in there. That is worse than metal or blood everywhere, which is sort of better than all of it put together. But of course if there is blood everywhere they will insist on using gauze and then all of my nightmares, metal, gauze, drilling in my gums, will come true.
Yesterday I missed my chance at kissing Dear Sir (I mean, the Professor) for the last time without this metallic rampart in my mouth. I think he told me that he will have to refrain from kissing me for a year (please, I hope it is just a year I need this grossness in my mouth!). And I hope he was just kidding (I am still not sure if he was or not). And if so, I am going to kick his butt. A thirty year old woman with braces never happens. Relish the moment, enjoy it, my friend.
Can you tell I am not looking forward to this? Ugh!
I dread this. And I imagine it will not feel good either, contrary to what the ortho says. They are going to drill a screw or two in my gums today. Actually, in about an hour and a half they are going to do this. I can handle root canals and tooth extractions, but I am not sure I can handle a little Home Depot in my mouth. I just hope they don't think of some way to put gauze in there. That is worse than metal or blood everywhere, which is sort of better than all of it put together. But of course if there is blood everywhere they will insist on using gauze and then all of my nightmares, metal, gauze, drilling in my gums, will come true.
Yesterday I missed my chance at kissing Dear Sir (I mean, the Professor) for the last time without this metallic rampart in my mouth. I think he told me that he will have to refrain from kissing me for a year (please, I hope it is just a year I need this grossness in my mouth!). And I hope he was just kidding (I am still not sure if he was or not). And if so, I am going to kick his butt. A thirty year old woman with braces never happens. Relish the moment, enjoy it, my friend.
Can you tell I am not looking forward to this? Ugh!
5/20/2008
Must I Wait
I am experiencing a lot of bad news lately. I am not going to talk about it here though, but good grief, I am sure you guys don't want to hear it all. In fact, I should not write at all, I am very upset. I find this song appropriate because I feel like dying and want God to just split the heavens open so I don't have to think about this utter silliness.
Anyway, this is my version of Phil Wickham's song called "Must I Wait" that I have heard a billion times over and over because it is one of my favorite running songs. Eventually you wonder if there is another way to sing it. And if you don't know Phil Wickham, you need to. He is in my links under "Mr. Wickham."
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