July 2010 Archives

I'm not trying out Yodaspeak, really.  I've been listening to some of my favorite old REM albums while I drive the kids around in the van, and this is one of my more favorite misheard lyrics.  (He's really singing "all of a sudden, these days," but I'll always sing it my way.)

So, last week my nephew Max came to see us, and he made me want to make four more babies right on the spot.  See?

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Baby curls.
Wrist rolls.
Knuckle dimples.

I am so helpless.

Here's a shot of how he will look as a teenager:

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I've got one like this of Nate, taken when he was a little bit older than Max is here, and he's already almost grown into it. 

It was, of course, really good to see my brother and his wife.  They are happy and they are tired.  Max?  He gets into everything in the most sweet and charming ways and he doesn't stop moving unless he's asleep.  I remember that time, but not anywhere near as vividly as someone living it.  It's the hardest time, physically, those days from when they learn to walk until they finally get some sense and awareness.  But it also never will feel better in your whole entire life to wake up first, before everyone else, when it's still cool and dim, and then drift off and catch some extra sleep in the early morning in a quiet house.  Or at least I believe you'll never appreciate it more than you do then.

For awhile the girls were on me all day every day to marry SG already and make them a baby sister.  I told them that my baby days are over, but they begged and begged.  Until, that is, there was a baby at their after school daycare last spring.  Then I started getting warnings about what would happen to me if I even thought, for one second, about having a CRYING baby.  So, it shouldn't have been too much of a shock the other day when Willow pulled SG aside and said, John B. (only she says it JawnBee), please don't make sex with my mom.

And SG was all, UM?

And Willow said, Because then she'd have a baby and we'd have to listen to it cry all the time.  OK?

So that was pretty funny in a horrifying sort of way.

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Sophie to SG:  I am SO MAD at Lex.  When he falls asleep tonight, I'm gonna write "BITCH" on his forehead.  With a sharpie.

SG to me, later that day:  So, I know I wasn't supposed to laugh at that. . .
That horrible fear you've always had of driving in a lane next to a big truck that you thought was just you being kinda dumb and a worrywart?  Justified!

(Not that I'll probably *need* this note as the smoke coming from the wheels of the tippy wobbly semi next to me on 101 left me 100% convinced that fear=survival instinct.)

*edited to add:

My lovely friend Karen pinged me to be sure I wasn't smushed, so I'd better say that I'm 100% fine, and so is the truck driver dude!  The truck didn't actually tip over, but now I know that my fear of driving next to them at high speed on the freeway is a good thing
I just made your lunches for camp tomorrow and I'd like to point out that while you may never quite get over my refusal to buy you lunchables, I did just put 3 chocolate chip cookies AND a box of Cracker Jacks into each of your ratty torn up lunchboxes.  It's true that Cracker Jacks have had to adapt to the crappy economy by only putting four peanuts in each box and converting to all flat paper prizes (This is "true" in that I've had two boxes in the past five years and the peanuts were scarce and the prizes were flat paper.  I could be wrong.  It's just MY true, you know?) but still I bet y'all are the only four kids at camp tomorrow with boxes of Cracker Jacks and if you aren't then you'll probably be the only ones with Cracker Jacks AND cookies.  I threw in some organic plums and carrots to balance it out, so you'll be fine.   

I frankly don't have the time to do the Bento thing on a regular basis, but if I did, I would probably go overboard and get all into making stuff like this.  Because, ooooooh, pretty!  But then that might cause a weird dynamic between us, because, what if, God forbid, I spent two days executing on something like this, and you're all RAW HAM?  NO WAY LADY!  And then lunches would be a "thing" and we'd have trust issues and instead of letting me live with you when I'm old, you'd all vote to put me in a home so I wouldn't try and feed you lunch. 

Anyway, I hope you all have fun tomorrow, and since not all of you have even ever HAD Cracker Jacks, I hope you like them.  I hope your prizes are novel enough to make you happy.  Please remember to reapply the sunscreen, and try to bring home some of the beach towels I know you've left behind.  Otherwise, you may have to lay on a washcloth next time we go over the hill and nobody wants that.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I love you and thanks for the extra help tonight.  Sleep tight and I'll see you in the morning.
xoxoxo mom

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Hey Park City, you're so pretty

I went all over the place in June.  Monterey to snorkel, Houston to visit with my dad and stepmom, Park City, Utah for the excellent EVO Conference.

And now half of July is over with and my blog turned 8 and I'm getting ready to go out of town again.  My boys are covered with gnarly paintball bruises that they will happily show you, my girls were singing this song in the bath last night with sweet and funny wrong words, and I bought a pair of $250 prescription sunglasses for my seven-year-old and I find I don't really want to let her wear them unless I am carrying her around in my arms.  SG cleaned out my garage, and since it's clean now I can admit that my garage would have easily qualified me for that Oprah episode about hoarding.  So, I owe him, big time, again.  And my mom got me a Kindle (!) which, turns out, I do love.  Quite a whole hell of a lot, really. 

I haven't been back from Houston very long, but I am already just as lonesome for my family there as ever.  We stayed up late (and I mean, like, 3 a.m. late; not my usual Oh no!  It's almost eleven, I'd better get to bed! late) talking at the dining room table every night and woke up in time for lunch every day.  I wish I could have brought the kiddos, but at the same time, it was wonderful to have so much uninterrupted time to just talk.  And drink beer.

SG got little goldfish for the girls.  I love them.  I talk to them.  My kids call me the Crazy Fish Lady and I totally do not care.  I check and adjust the pH balance of their water, which is filtered and conditioned and about 1/3 changed weekly. I bought a live plant and put a blue medicine Buddha blessed by the Dali Lama in their tank.  It's been a couple of weeks now, and Sophie was surprised that they are still alive.  Goldfish usually only last a few days, she said.  These ones are, like, OLDFISH.  But, what she doesn't realize is that I'm on a mission to do well by Bobby Jack and Bite Me (guess which fish is Soph's) and someday people will believe me when I say that the fish totally wiggle when I come talk to them.  THEY DO.  According to Wikipedia, they can do all sorts of stuff:

Goldfish can learn tricks, such as the limbo, slalom, fetch and soccer, using positive reinforcement training techniques.

I'm not sure they would be any good at any of those, um, sports.  But I know my fish, my daughters' fish, (fishes?) and I know they'll give it 110%.

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