1. Turn off your computer and RUN/SPRINT/FLEE/FLY/SCRAMBLE to your local grocery store. The candy section. Find it! Hurry! Now, look for a yellow box or bag bearing the words: "Reese's Pieces GONE NUTS: PEANUTS and peanut butter!" If you cannot find this candy, track down the store manager and MUTILATE him/her!
1b. REESE'S PIECES WITH PEANUTS! O!M!G!
1c. Someone brought two boxes to work and left them in the snack room. Usually this means they are for general consumption, but I didn't bother to double-check. Those boxes are mine. And if more show up, they will be mine, too.
1d. And if I were an airport screener, I would allow you into the terminal with your handgun if you offered me a box of this candy.
2. I painted all weekend long. I hadn't painted in eons. Eons of eons. And you know what?
2b. Painting is like crack-cocaine.
2c. Actually, CREATING is like crack-cocaine. Any chance I get to CREATE something lately, I run with it. Painting, learning guitar, writing, trying a new recipe, whatever. I am enjoying CREATING as if it were sex. And creating via sex is fun, too, but that's not where I'm at right now.
3. Munchkin and I watched "Singin' in the Rain" about 50 times this weekend. We still like "An American in Paris" better, but... The first time you watch "Singin' in the Rain", you think, "Gawd, how corny!" Only, it gets better and better with every viewing, so that by the 30th viewing, you're ready to build a time machine so you can go back and have Gene Kelly's babies.
4. I'm not going to take a vow of celibacy or anything, but I am really enjoying my independence lately. Really, really, really.
5. My sinus infection is getting better, but Munchkin's is not. And her dad keeps giving her sugar, which only makes it worse. So I guess he can pay the doctor's bill.
5b. Munchkin also seems to be developing cavities. WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?
5c. PoorMunchkin. :(
5d. But she's doing spectacularly at school. She's beginning to get past her shyness and really make friends. ...I am swelling with a mixture of pride and relief.
5e. Children. Are. Spectacular.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
2006, 02/24 - Friday!
It's FRIDAY!
Meaning I haven't seen my baby in person in TWO DAYS, and I miss her, and I get to see her as soon as this foolishly long work-day ends!
We've nearly worn-out our copy of "An American in Paris," so, tonight, I think we shall rent "Singin' in the Rain."
And, if someone could direct me on proper punctuation usage inside and around quotation marks, that would be great. They stop teaching grammar and punctuation after sixth grade, you know.
Meaning I haven't seen my baby in person in TWO DAYS, and I miss her, and I get to see her as soon as this foolishly long work-day ends!
We've nearly worn-out our copy of "An American in Paris," so, tonight, I think we shall rent "Singin' in the Rain."
And, if someone could direct me on proper punctuation usage inside and around quotation marks, that would be great. They stop teaching grammar and punctuation after sixth grade, you know.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
2006, 02/14 - Crappie Update
Pseudo-Update: I have been back to the grocery store at least three times already, and "CRAPPIE" Magazine has been nowhere to be seen.
2006, 02/14 - Baby
Four is a really difficult age. Four is Independence. Four is Entitlement. Four is Gimme, Gimme, Gimme.
There are episodes where Munchkin makes a request which must be denied, and her immediate response is to begin bawling or yelling. This only makes the denial more firm. A calm and considerate "Oh, please, Mommy?" would at least get a moment's consideration. The diva hissy fit of "PLEASE, PLEAAAAAASE!! YOU NEVER LET ME DO WHAT I WANT!" wins nothing but a Time-Out, and perhaps loss of a priviledge. It's getting repetitive. Can we move on to age five and be done with this lesson, please?
Of course there are good points to this age as well. Munchkin can do so many things by herself now. She can make her own peanut butter sandwich from start to clean-up. She can help with chores. She can wash herself. She can pick out her own clothes, dress herself, and come out looking completely coordinated. She can dig through her toybox without tossing toys everywhere. She can put things back where they belong. She can help me remember things.
And there are things, simply in her nature, that she has always been able to do, still does, and, most likely, will always be able to do. She has always been able to make me laugh. She has always been able to work a remote control (almost always!). She has always been ticklish. She has always been able to sing. She has always been able to dance. She still experiences the joy of simply being alive.
My four-year-old is still my baby, and she still lets me call her "my baby." She still loves to be held close and rocked. This is what we did tonight at bedtime. I held her in my arms and I rocked her. She leaned against me and smiled.
I sang the song/chant I made up for her when she was less than a week old. No one but us knows this song.
I watched her face in the dark. Same big, sparkling eyes, same eyelashes, same color hair, same eyebrows, same lips as when she was a baby. For a fleeting moment, she was that baby again. She is that baby. With the chunky thighs, chubby cheeks, pudgy fingers, huge cloth diaper. Look how big that baby is now. Her legs have stretched. Her hair is thick and long. Her ears have clogged (ha ha). She wears almost my same size hat--not the tiny, pink, stretchy, cotton caps anymore.
We've grown together.
When she was born, she and I had almost the same length of hair. We've grown our hair out together.
We're both different people now. We are both more mature. The love has not changed. It is full and constant. We make adjustments in ourselves--consciously on my part, less-so on her part--for each other.
I'll never be perfect. And she'll never be Sara Crewe from "A Little Princess." She is Munchkin. She is herself. She is perfectly herself.
I was once her. I was once a baby with chunky thighs, chubby cheeks, pudgy fingers. I had the same big, sparkling eyes and the same shaped eyebrows. Maybe I am perfectly myself, too.
There are episodes where Munchkin makes a request which must be denied, and her immediate response is to begin bawling or yelling. This only makes the denial more firm. A calm and considerate "Oh, please, Mommy?" would at least get a moment's consideration. The diva hissy fit of "PLEASE, PLEAAAAAASE!! YOU NEVER LET ME DO WHAT I WANT!" wins nothing but a Time-Out, and perhaps loss of a priviledge. It's getting repetitive. Can we move on to age five and be done with this lesson, please?
Of course there are good points to this age as well. Munchkin can do so many things by herself now. She can make her own peanut butter sandwich from start to clean-up. She can help with chores. She can wash herself. She can pick out her own clothes, dress herself, and come out looking completely coordinated. She can dig through her toybox without tossing toys everywhere. She can put things back where they belong. She can help me remember things.
And there are things, simply in her nature, that she has always been able to do, still does, and, most likely, will always be able to do. She has always been able to make me laugh. She has always been able to work a remote control (almost always!). She has always been ticklish. She has always been able to sing. She has always been able to dance. She still experiences the joy of simply being alive.
My four-year-old is still my baby, and she still lets me call her "my baby." She still loves to be held close and rocked. This is what we did tonight at bedtime. I held her in my arms and I rocked her. She leaned against me and smiled.
I sang the song/chant I made up for her when she was less than a week old. No one but us knows this song.
I watched her face in the dark. Same big, sparkling eyes, same eyelashes, same color hair, same eyebrows, same lips as when she was a baby. For a fleeting moment, she was that baby again. She is that baby. With the chunky thighs, chubby cheeks, pudgy fingers, huge cloth diaper. Look how big that baby is now. Her legs have stretched. Her hair is thick and long. Her ears have clogged (ha ha). She wears almost my same size hat--not the tiny, pink, stretchy, cotton caps anymore.
We've grown together.
When she was born, she and I had almost the same length of hair. We've grown our hair out together.
We're both different people now. We are both more mature. The love has not changed. It is full and constant. We make adjustments in ourselves--consciously on my part, less-so on her part--for each other.
I'll never be perfect. And she'll never be Sara Crewe from "A Little Princess." She is Munchkin. She is herself. She is perfectly herself.
I was once her. I was once a baby with chunky thighs, chubby cheeks, pudgy fingers. I had the same big, sparkling eyes and the same shaped eyebrows. Maybe I am perfectly myself, too.
Friday, February 10, 2006
2006, 02/10 - "Love Stories"
1. Munchkin stays with her dad most Wednesday and Thursday nights, as well as every other Saturday. Every Friday when I see her again, she seems to have grown an inch.
2. I had a song in my head. I did not sing it out loud. Out of the blue, Munchkin started singing it. We thought that was cool.
2b. The song, by the way, was "Skin Is, My" by Andrew Bird. A song that makes no sense.
3. HELPFUL HINT: When you have a cold, you may not be able to smell things. So when you buy a new jar of minced garlic, and you can't smell it, please don't assume you chose a lame brand and proceed to smother extra garlic on your sandwich. Especially because garlic will make your cold go away, and then you'll be able to smell everything.
4. This site doesn't have to be all about Munchkin-conversations, does it? Mommies have lives apart from their children, sometimes, right? So who wants to read my love story? Great! Here ya go:
Last night, right after work, I headed to the grocery store, where I was able to observe a rather nice-looking guy--no wedding ring, definitely mid-forties, in good shape, wearing business slacks and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I ended up behind him in the check-out line. He was looking at me, but I couldn't really see him because the sun was directly in my eyes. (Stupid, west-facing, glass-walled grocery store!--Although, with all that light shining directly at me, I probably appeared to be a red-headed 10-items-or-less-purchasing ANGEL!) I had to turn my face away from the sun, and, as I did, I caught sight of a magazine titled "CRAPPIE". It was a fishing magazine with really dopey-looking guys in a boat on the cover. I wondered if it was real, because it was next to all the feminine magazines, and this was so funny to me that I started smiling, and couldn't stop, and I looked like an idiot. But I was a happy idiot, right?
In an effort to stop smiling, I turned around and started looking at the nice-looking guy's purchases while I waited for free counter space. I decided he was definitely a recently-divorced bachelor; he was buying beer, donuts, some other stuff, and--*gasp*--the same brand of baby spinach leaves as I had in my hand! When I set my stuff on the counter, I knew he saw my spinach leaves, too. [He was definitely watching me, and I didn't even have ketchup on my face or anything! (I know, cuz I checked when I got home.)] We were ANONYMOUS SPINACH BUDDIES! HAWT! I wanted to comment, but I'm still sick and my throat was really dry; my voice has been coming and going randomly. So I remained silent. Silent and smiling about CRAPPIE Magazine--and smiling about smiling about CRAPPIE Magazine.
Anyway, he paid and left, then I paid and left. I saw him in the parking lot as I came out, putting away his grocery cart. He paused, looking in my direction. We were now too far apart for me to nonchalantly speak to him, so I just smiled and headed to my car. I managed to get out of the parking lot two cars ahead of him, and I saw that he had a little [secret color] car TOO! We were Anonymous Spinach Buddies AND Little [secret color] Car Pals!! Then we lost each other. It was over. *sob*
4b. Love Story #2: There was a really hot guy in the office today. REALLY hot. (Married, too! The bastard!) But SO HOT. HOTTTTTT. As I put in an email to Punky today:
2. I had a song in my head. I did not sing it out loud. Out of the blue, Munchkin started singing it. We thought that was cool.
2b. The song, by the way, was "Skin Is, My" by Andrew Bird. A song that makes no sense.
3. HELPFUL HINT: When you have a cold, you may not be able to smell things. So when you buy a new jar of minced garlic, and you can't smell it, please don't assume you chose a lame brand and proceed to smother extra garlic on your sandwich. Especially because garlic will make your cold go away, and then you'll be able to smell everything.
4. This site doesn't have to be all about Munchkin-conversations, does it? Mommies have lives apart from their children, sometimes, right? So who wants to read my love story? Great! Here ya go:
Last night, right after work, I headed to the grocery store, where I was able to observe a rather nice-looking guy--no wedding ring, definitely mid-forties, in good shape, wearing business slacks and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I ended up behind him in the check-out line. He was looking at me, but I couldn't really see him because the sun was directly in my eyes. (Stupid, west-facing, glass-walled grocery store!--Although, with all that light shining directly at me, I probably appeared to be a red-headed 10-items-or-less-purchasing ANGEL!) I had to turn my face away from the sun, and, as I did, I caught sight of a magazine titled "CRAPPIE". It was a fishing magazine with really dopey-looking guys in a boat on the cover. I wondered if it was real, because it was next to all the feminine magazines, and this was so funny to me that I started smiling, and couldn't stop, and I looked like an idiot. But I was a happy idiot, right?
In an effort to stop smiling, I turned around and started looking at the nice-looking guy's purchases while I waited for free counter space. I decided he was definitely a recently-divorced bachelor; he was buying beer, donuts, some other stuff, and--*gasp*--the same brand of baby spinach leaves as I had in my hand! When I set my stuff on the counter, I knew he saw my spinach leaves, too. [He was definitely watching me, and I didn't even have ketchup on my face or anything! (I know, cuz I checked when I got home.)] We were ANONYMOUS SPINACH BUDDIES! HAWT! I wanted to comment, but I'm still sick and my throat was really dry; my voice has been coming and going randomly. So I remained silent. Silent and smiling about CRAPPIE Magazine--and smiling about smiling about CRAPPIE Magazine.
Anyway, he paid and left, then I paid and left. I saw him in the parking lot as I came out, putting away his grocery cart. He paused, looking in my direction. We were now too far apart for me to nonchalantly speak to him, so I just smiled and headed to my car. I managed to get out of the parking lot two cars ahead of him, and I saw that he had a little [secret color] car TOO! We were Anonymous Spinach Buddies AND Little [secret color] Car Pals!! Then we lost each other. It was over. *sob*
4b. Love Story #2: There was a really hot guy in the office today. REALLY hot. (Married, too! The bastard!) But SO HOT. HOTTTTTT. As I put in an email to Punky today:
He's HERE!
Omg, still hot. Really hot. Damn hot. *thumping foot* *droooooling*
Sunday, January 29, 2006
2006, 01/29 - Crack Whores and Cheese
Munchkin: I'd like some more crackers, please.
Mama: Ok.
Munchkin: [singing mindlessly] Crackers and cheese... crack-hors and cheeeese... crack-hors and cheeeeeese...
Mama: Crack-ERS!
Munchkin: [continuing] Crack whores and cheeeese...
Mama: Stop saying that!
Munchkin: [looking at Mama funny]
Mama: Ok.
Munchkin: [singing mindlessly] Crackers and cheese... crack-hors and cheeeese... crack-hors and cheeeeeese...
Mama: Crack-ERS!
Munchkin: [continuing] Crack whores and cheeeese...
Mama: Stop saying that!
Munchkin: [looking at Mama funny]
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
2006, 01/25 - Divorce, Death, Boogerheadedness
Munchkin Initially Rejected:
For Once In My Life - Harry Connick, Jr
Munchkin Approved After Much Mommy-Peer-Pressure:
For Once In My Life - Harry Connick, Jr
Munchkin: What if Daddy gets married and I don't like the new mommy?
Mama: Don't worry; Daddy would never marry someone you didn't like. And anyway, I'll always be your super best number one mommy, and I'll always be here to take care of you.
Munchkin: Step-mommy?
Mama: No, I'll always be your number one mommy, because you came from my tummy.
Munchkin: You won't be my mommy after you die!
Mama: Yes, I will always be your mommy. After I die, I will still be your mommy. I won't be here, but you'll feel me in your heart.
Munchkin: [with a mischievous gleam in her eye] What do you mean? Does that mean you'll be beating on my heart and scratching it?
For Once In My Life - Harry Connick, Jr
Munchkin Approved After Much Mommy-Peer-Pressure:
For Once In My Life - Harry Connick, Jr
Munchkin: What if Daddy gets married and I don't like the new mommy?
Mama: Don't worry; Daddy would never marry someone you didn't like. And anyway, I'll always be your super best number one mommy, and I'll always be here to take care of you.
Munchkin: Step-mommy?
Mama: No, I'll always be your number one mommy, because you came from my tummy.
Munchkin: You won't be my mommy after you die!
Mama: Yes, I will always be your mommy. After I die, I will still be your mommy. I won't be here, but you'll feel me in your heart.
Munchkin: [with a mischievous gleam in her eye] What do you mean? Does that mean you'll be beating on my heart and scratching it?
Saturday, January 21, 2006
2006, 01/20 - Booger Hat
We like to make impromptu recordings on my cell phone; here's a transcript of the latest:
Munchkin: I'm wearing a booger-hat here, you've noticed.
Mommy: Yes, I have noticed your booger-hat! It's lovely; where did you get it?
Munchkin: I got it from my mommy and my daddy.
Mommy: Oh, where did they get it from?
Munchkin: My mommy and daddy got it from their nose.
Munchkin: I'm wearing a booger-hat here, you've noticed.
Mommy: Yes, I have noticed your booger-hat! It's lovely; where did you get it?
Munchkin: I got it from my mommy and my daddy.
Mommy: Oh, where did they get it from?
Munchkin: My mommy and daddy got it from their nose.
2006, 01/19 - Mommy Met Dave Barry
Munchkin: Ew, that's disgusting! Why did he hug you? You don't even know him; he's not your friend!
Mommy: He's very nice! And I know of him; he's very famous!
Munchkin: What do you mean?
Mommy: He's famous; a lot of people know him!
Munchkin: Well of course a lot of people know him! I know [about] him, too! A lot of people know ME, too; I go to preschool! And everybody knows me there! Everybody knows everybody; we'll ALL be famous!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
2006, 01/10 - Music
A.
Munchkin (and Mama)-Approved:
Wonderboy - Tenacious D
Munchkin-Denied:
Mama singing "Wonderboy" over and over and over again, and then singing it some more
B.
Munchkin-Approved:
Musicology - Prince (he's back to that now, right?)
Munchkin-Rejected:
Copacabana - Barry Mani-NO! (I'd never heard it all the way through, so we gave it a listen; with NO prompting from me, she insisted the song be stopped right away. 'So proud!)
Munchkin (and Mama)-Approved:
Wonderboy - Tenacious D
Munchkin-Denied:
Mama singing "Wonderboy" over and over and over again, and then singing it some more
B.
Munchkin-Approved:
Musicology - Prince (he's back to that now, right?)
Munchkin-Rejected:
Copacabana - Barry Mani-NO! (I'd never heard it all the way through, so we gave it a listen; with NO prompting from me, she insisted the song be stopped right away. 'So proud!)
Monday, January 09, 2006
2006, 01/09 - Music
Munchkin-Approved:
Feel Good - Gorillaz
King Tut - Steve Martin
Munchkin-Denied:
Mellow Yellow - Donovan
Feel Good - Gorillaz
King Tut - Steve Martin
Munchkin-Denied:
Mellow Yellow - Donovan
Friday, January 06, 2006
2006, 01/06b - Weird Al
Do you remember "The Weird Al Show"? On CBS, Sunday mornings? In 1997?
I skipped teaching my Sunday School class of first graders at least once so I could watch it. ...Good times...
Well, I remember it, and that's what counts. And it's coming to DVD this year, people!
For your salivary pleasure, a "clip" (from IMDB.com):
Announcer: If you thought there were no more natural disasters left to make a movie about, you thought wrong. 60% Chance of Rain, the most horrifying new movie of the season. The weather got out of hand.
Mayor: We can't go starting a panic, not during tourist season!
Announcer: Only one man had the courage--
Deputy Al: Mr. Mayor, I don't care what happens to your tourist season! Someone needs to tell these people that they might need a jacket!
Announcer: To bring Mother Nature to her knees...
Deputy Al: C'mon, people, let's go! Everybody in the rec room! We don't know what we're in for. C'mon inside, everybody!
Announcer: When the barometric pressure increases, so does the terror.
Boy: So we don't even know if it's gonna rain?
Deputy Al: No, son, we don't.
Announcer: 60% Chance of Rain. Coming soon to a theater near you, maybe.
I practically wet my pants reading that. (Practically?) That's comedy, people. (The pants wetting?) Shut up.
I skipped teaching my Sunday School class of first graders at least once so I could watch it. ...Good times...
Well, I remember it, and that's what counts. And it's coming to DVD this year, people!
For your salivary pleasure, a "clip" (from IMDB.com):
Announcer: If you thought there were no more natural disasters left to make a movie about, you thought wrong. 60% Chance of Rain, the most horrifying new movie of the season. The weather got out of hand.
Mayor: We can't go starting a panic, not during tourist season!
Announcer: Only one man had the courage--
Deputy Al: Mr. Mayor, I don't care what happens to your tourist season! Someone needs to tell these people that they might need a jacket!
Announcer: To bring Mother Nature to her knees...
Deputy Al: C'mon, people, let's go! Everybody in the rec room! We don't know what we're in for. C'mon inside, everybody!
Announcer: When the barometric pressure increases, so does the terror.
Boy: So we don't even know if it's gonna rain?
Deputy Al: No, son, we don't.
Announcer: 60% Chance of Rain. Coming soon to a theater near you, maybe.
I practically wet my pants reading that. (Practically?) That's comedy, people. (The pants wetting?) Shut up.
2006, 01/06 - CPR
Fun night tonight:
1) We love french bread. Love, love, love it. Mommy loves to dip it in olive oil with garlic salt & italian spices. Munchkin loves it plain, as long as the crust is good and crunchy. But the best part of having french bread is feeding the stale crumbs to whatever wildlife (birds?) lurks on the grass below our balcony, which Munchkin did tonight.
She donned her heavy coat and braved the near-freezing Georgia cold (ha ha, I know) while I huddled under my laptop to perform the post-dinner email check.
After she had done her Good Deed for the Day, she held the door open and called out, "ENJOY YOUR DINNER, BIRDS! GOOD NIGHT!" and blew them kisses and hugs.
2) Munchkin, on playing with a folded-up stroller: "How do you get this situated?"
3) "Mommy, you be the hospital-man. Um, hospital-man? My piggy got his knee scraped. And he died. You're not supposed to be laughing! You're supposed to be sad! ...You have to put oxygen through his mouth."
So I gave the piggy a bandage, a blood transfusion, and an oxygen tube up his nostrils. Then I told him to take it easy, and handed him back to his best friend. (She's not his mother; she's his best friend, she says.)
The verdict? "He's still dead!"
So I gave the piggy a new bandage, checked his pulse, administered CPR, and handed Munchkin a bill for $1,000,000, which she apparently paid in cash.
Oops, piggy scraped his leg again. And he doesn't have a pulse. And my CPR isn't working, so I showed her how to beat the heck out of his chest. She's having fun with that now.
4) "OW! You poked my eye!"
"Oh! I'm sorry, Sweetie!"
[she starts complain-crying (no tears)]
"Are you sure I poked it? I didn't feel any gooey eyeball slush on my hand!"
[complain-cry turns into a giggle]
Tonight:
Munchin-Approved:
Shout - Isley Brothers ("You head-shake, too, Mama!")
Tutti Frutti - Little Richard ("Yum!")
In the Summertime - Mungo Jerry
Good Golly Miss Molly - Little Richard
Superstition - Stevie Wonder
Munchkin-Rejected:
Under the Boardwalk - The Drifters ("not fast enough")
1) We love french bread. Love, love, love it. Mommy loves to dip it in olive oil with garlic salt & italian spices. Munchkin loves it plain, as long as the crust is good and crunchy. But the best part of having french bread is feeding the stale crumbs to whatever wildlife (birds?) lurks on the grass below our balcony, which Munchkin did tonight.
She donned her heavy coat and braved the near-freezing Georgia cold (ha ha, I know) while I huddled under my laptop to perform the post-dinner email check.
After she had done her Good Deed for the Day, she held the door open and called out, "ENJOY YOUR DINNER, BIRDS! GOOD NIGHT!" and blew them kisses and hugs.
2) Munchkin, on playing with a folded-up stroller: "How do you get this situated?"
3) "Mommy, you be the hospital-man. Um, hospital-man? My piggy got his knee scraped. And he died. You're not supposed to be laughing! You're supposed to be sad! ...You have to put oxygen through his mouth."
So I gave the piggy a bandage, a blood transfusion, and an oxygen tube up his nostrils. Then I told him to take it easy, and handed him back to his best friend. (She's not his mother; she's his best friend, she says.)
The verdict? "He's still dead!"
So I gave the piggy a new bandage, checked his pulse, administered CPR, and handed Munchkin a bill for $1,000,000, which she apparently paid in cash.
Oops, piggy scraped his leg again. And he doesn't have a pulse. And my CPR isn't working, so I showed her how to beat the heck out of his chest. She's having fun with that now.
4) "OW! You poked my eye!"
"Oh! I'm sorry, Sweetie!"
[she starts complain-crying (no tears)]
"Are you sure I poked it? I didn't feel any gooey eyeball slush on my hand!"
[complain-cry turns into a giggle]
Tonight:
Munchin-Approved:
Shout - Isley Brothers ("You head-shake, too, Mama!")
Tutti Frutti - Little Richard ("Yum!")
In the Summertime - Mungo Jerry
Good Golly Miss Molly - Little Richard
Superstition - Stevie Wonder
Munchkin-Rejected:
Under the Boardwalk - The Drifters ("not fast enough")
Friday, December 30, 2005
2005, 12/30 - Barry
Twenty seconds ago:
Munchkin: What are all those weird faces?
Me: Hmm? Oh, that's Dave Barry.
Munchkin: Mmm! That sounds yummy!
...Maybe you had to be there. ;)
Happy New Year, everyone!
Munchkin: What are all those weird faces?
Me: Hmm? Oh, that's Dave Barry.
Munchkin: Mmm! That sounds yummy!
...Maybe you had to be there. ;)
Happy New Year, everyone!
Monday, December 12, 2005
2005, 12/12 - Divorce Talk
Tonight, I finally talked to Munchkin about the impending divorce.
It came up rather organically. During our Long Talk at Bedtime, she asked about how people could become "unmarried". I answered her questions as best I could...and I realized this was the chance I'd been waiting for--or the moment I'd been dreading.
I lay down next to her, wrapped my arms around her, took a very deep breath, and very calmly and matter-of-factly, just, gave her the information I thought she would need.
She took it in stride, perhaps because I sounded calm about it--and because her father and I have been separated for almost a year now. She had a few questions--what would happen to her if I died ("death" is a constant topic of discussion between us this year); what would happen to her if Mommy and Daddy both died; etc. I explained all such scenarios for her, and added in a few other things: That I will always be her Mommy. That What's-His-Name will always be her Daddy. That she is the most important thing in the world to both of us.
I started to get a little teary-eyed, reminding her of how important she is to me.
I told her if she ever feels afraid or worried about anything, she can talk to me about it, and I will help.
Finally, I asked her, "Do you have any other questions about divorce?"
She snuggled closer. She paused. She looked upward at the paintings on her walls--paintings the three of us had made as a family one afternoon, a year or so ago, just for fun--beach scenes, family members as cartoonish animals, a clown, some "modern" art...
I lay still, with bated breath. I am expecting questions about step-parents. She's seen "Cinderella" and currently harbors some definite, unsavory, ideas regarding stepmothers. Or maybe she wants to know if we'll still be able to do things together, as a family. Maybe she'll want to know what we're going to do at Christmas. Maybe she'll be angry she wasn't told sooner.
Upon finally having gathered her thoughts, she responded, "I think... you need... more decorations on your clown!"
We both then burst out laughing at her cunningly planned (and only funny to us) joke. We gave each other big hugs, and I tucked her in for the night.
*I do anticipate facing difficult questions later, as she mulls over this new information. But she took Part I well. And I am glad this is out in the open; I am more than a little worried she has begun thinking it is normal for married people to live apart.
**Sorry this wasn't funny.
It came up rather organically. During our Long Talk at Bedtime, she asked about how people could become "unmarried". I answered her questions as best I could...and I realized this was the chance I'd been waiting for--or the moment I'd been dreading.
I lay down next to her, wrapped my arms around her, took a very deep breath, and very calmly and matter-of-factly, just, gave her the information I thought she would need.
She took it in stride, perhaps because I sounded calm about it--and because her father and I have been separated for almost a year now. She had a few questions--what would happen to her if I died ("death" is a constant topic of discussion between us this year); what would happen to her if Mommy and Daddy both died; etc. I explained all such scenarios for her, and added in a few other things: That I will always be her Mommy. That What's-His-Name will always be her Daddy. That she is the most important thing in the world to both of us.
I started to get a little teary-eyed, reminding her of how important she is to me.
I told her if she ever feels afraid or worried about anything, she can talk to me about it, and I will help.
Finally, I asked her, "Do you have any other questions about divorce?"
She snuggled closer. She paused. She looked upward at the paintings on her walls--paintings the three of us had made as a family one afternoon, a year or so ago, just for fun--beach scenes, family members as cartoonish animals, a clown, some "modern" art...
I lay still, with bated breath. I am expecting questions about step-parents. She's seen "Cinderella" and currently harbors some definite, unsavory, ideas regarding stepmothers. Or maybe she wants to know if we'll still be able to do things together, as a family. Maybe she'll want to know what we're going to do at Christmas. Maybe she'll be angry she wasn't told sooner.
Upon finally having gathered her thoughts, she responded, "I think... you need... more decorations on your clown!"
We both then burst out laughing at her cunningly planned (and only funny to us) joke. We gave each other big hugs, and I tucked her in for the night.
*I do anticipate facing difficult questions later, as she mulls over this new information. But she took Part I well. And I am glad this is out in the open; I am more than a little worried she has begun thinking it is normal for married people to live apart.
**Sorry this wasn't funny.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
FLASHBACKS!
(These are taken from my old blog.)
Christmas 2004 Highlight:
"We'd left chocolates out for Santa, so I showed Munchkin that he had eaten one & taken bites out of two others, and she was really excited. Then we brought out her stocking, and she started taking things out, one at a time, until she pulled out the video, "Max & Ruby's Christmas" and dropped it and started crying and hid her face on the floor. Sobbing, actually. And we all panicked: What happened?! What's wrong?! Turns out she has that video at her grandparents' house, so she thought Santa screwed up or hadn't been paying attention very well. She was heart-broken!! So was I!! But we convinced her he wanted her to have one for home too, and Christmas continued, and Munchkin doesn't hate Santa. Whew!!!"
November 29, 2004:
"Today, Munchkin wanted to talk about "falling in love." She asked, 'what does love look like, when you're inside it? You know, when you fall in love?' Ha, literal interpretation! I love it! So of course I told her "falling in love" is what you call it when you are discovering for the first time that you love someone. So the rest of the evening, she talked to me about how she "falled in love" with me. (Awwww!!) And she told me that she was going to fall in love with someone and grab 'em and marry 'em! Probably a bunch of that is crap that was fed to her by one of her aunts today, but it was still cute, and she was excited about the idea. She is the sweetest."
Also November 29, 2004, but this one's not nice if you're religious!! WARNING; scroll down to the asterisks!!!:
"My mother-in-law is teaching Munchkin about God. Ugh. Three and a half years of shielding my impressionable child from religion...down the f*ing drain. I thought letting her watch & sing bible songs was bad enough! Now I have to make up harmless-sounding answers to her queries about The Lord, in case she parrots what I say back to her zealous grandmother (who doesn't know I'm an atheist--or didn't till now!)... Munchkin says, "God is real, and he watches over little children and protects them!" And I want to say, "Actually, God is an Idea, and Mommy watches over you and protects you. If there even is a god, he doesn't protect anybody, he just gives them a place to go after they die. So try not to waste your life away worrying about someone who will never, ever personally acknowledge you while your body is still breathing." Damn deities... First Santa comes in trying to take all the credit for my paycheck's worth of Xmas toys, now God is trying to horn in on a child's love for the person who protects her? God is such a bitch. Munchkin, well known for being painfully shy, also says, "I don't think I like God. He's ugly because of his grey beard. And I don't want to meet him, because I'm shy." While I get the sharp pangs in my heart because she says things like that just out of shyness (I'm a BAD BAD mother for not having her socialized yet!), I also get a sick sort of pleasure out of hearing her say she doesn't like God and that he's ugly."
*********End of naughty words*************************
August 9, 2004:
"Munchkin (who turned 3 years old this past April) said the cutest thing! Last night, for her bedtime story, I was reading to her from a book of poetry, as I had done the night before. And I believe I was trying out some William Blake on her, when she turned to me, reached for my arm, and looked up at me with her big, beautiful, hazel eyes and said, "Mommy, now read some John Keats." She's a genius!!!! Everybody do the Happy Dance!! "
Christmas 2004 Highlight:
"We'd left chocolates out for Santa, so I showed Munchkin that he had eaten one & taken bites out of two others, and she was really excited. Then we brought out her stocking, and she started taking things out, one at a time, until she pulled out the video, "Max & Ruby's Christmas" and dropped it and started crying and hid her face on the floor. Sobbing, actually. And we all panicked: What happened?! What's wrong?! Turns out she has that video at her grandparents' house, so she thought Santa screwed up or hadn't been paying attention very well. She was heart-broken!! So was I!! But we convinced her he wanted her to have one for home too, and Christmas continued, and Munchkin doesn't hate Santa. Whew!!!"
November 29, 2004:
"Today, Munchkin wanted to talk about "falling in love." She asked, 'what does love look like, when you're inside it? You know, when you fall in love?' Ha, literal interpretation! I love it! So of course I told her "falling in love" is what you call it when you are discovering for the first time that you love someone. So the rest of the evening, she talked to me about how she "falled in love" with me. (Awwww!!) And she told me that she was going to fall in love with someone and grab 'em and marry 'em! Probably a bunch of that is crap that was fed to her by one of her aunts today, but it was still cute, and she was excited about the idea. She is the sweetest."
Also November 29, 2004, but this one's not nice if you're religious!! WARNING; scroll down to the asterisks!!!:
"My mother-in-law is teaching Munchkin about God. Ugh. Three and a half years of shielding my impressionable child from religion...down the f*ing drain. I thought letting her watch & sing bible songs was bad enough! Now I have to make up harmless-sounding answers to her queries about The Lord, in case she parrots what I say back to her zealous grandmother (who doesn't know I'm an atheist--or didn't till now!)... Munchkin says, "God is real, and he watches over little children and protects them!" And I want to say, "Actually, God is an Idea, and Mommy watches over you and protects you. If there even is a god, he doesn't protect anybody, he just gives them a place to go after they die. So try not to waste your life away worrying about someone who will never, ever personally acknowledge you while your body is still breathing." Damn deities... First Santa comes in trying to take all the credit for my paycheck's worth of Xmas toys, now God is trying to horn in on a child's love for the person who protects her? God is such a bitch. Munchkin, well known for being painfully shy, also says, "I don't think I like God. He's ugly because of his grey beard. And I don't want to meet him, because I'm shy." While I get the sharp pangs in my heart because she says things like that just out of shyness (I'm a BAD BAD mother for not having her socialized yet!), I also get a sick sort of pleasure out of hearing her say she doesn't like God and that he's ugly."
*********End of naughty words*************************
August 9, 2004:
"Munchkin (who turned 3 years old this past April) said the cutest thing! Last night, for her bedtime story, I was reading to her from a book of poetry, as I had done the night before. And I believe I was trying out some William Blake on her, when she turned to me, reached for my arm, and looked up at me with her big, beautiful, hazel eyes and said, "Mommy, now read some John Keats." She's a genius!!!! Everybody do the Happy Dance!! "
Sorrrryyyy...
Reasons For Not Updating:
1) Been having much trouble with Blogspot lately.
2) No time! Not appropos to update a website while at work! (whoops...)
3) Most of the funny stuff between Munchkin and myself lately has been of the more physical and ?auditory? varieties. Very difficult to explain so that it still sounds funny.
3b) Example: Last night, I had on headphones while I did the dishes and while Munchkin played with her piano. I constantly interrupted her by singing and dancing and being silly. She laughed her booty off.
3b.2) Night before last, I was tucking Munchkin into bed and listening to her telling me about something that had happened at school. I pulled all my hair forward, twisted it together, and covered my nose with it. She thought it was hilarious and kept laughing so hard she couldn't finish her story. I kept repeating, "WHAT is so FUNNY? Stop laughing! Some of us are TRYING to listen to your STORY!" Which made her laugh even harder. She was repeating this to me this morning at breakfast; it was a big hit.
3c) See? Those were only funny to US! Ya had to be there.
But! I have found some Munchkin-Mama convos on my old blog, which I shall re-find and transfer here. You'll have to make due with those until we start being more conventionally funny again.
1) Been having much trouble with Blogspot lately.
2) No time! Not appropos to update a website while at work! (whoops...)
3) Most of the funny stuff between Munchkin and myself lately has been of the more physical and ?auditory? varieties. Very difficult to explain so that it still sounds funny.
3b) Example: Last night, I had on headphones while I did the dishes and while Munchkin played with her piano. I constantly interrupted her by singing and dancing and being silly. She laughed her booty off.
3b.2) Night before last, I was tucking Munchkin into bed and listening to her telling me about something that had happened at school. I pulled all my hair forward, twisted it together, and covered my nose with it. She thought it was hilarious and kept laughing so hard she couldn't finish her story. I kept repeating, "WHAT is so FUNNY? Stop laughing! Some of us are TRYING to listen to your STORY!" Which made her laugh even harder. She was repeating this to me this morning at breakfast; it was a big hit.
3c) See? Those were only funny to US! Ya had to be there.
But! I have found some Munchkin-Mama convos on my old blog, which I shall re-find and transfer here. You'll have to make due with those until we start being more conventionally funny again.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
2005, 11/27 - The Finger
So, we're sitting in a booth at a restaurant--me, Munchkin, & Munchkin's dad.
From behind the wall of our booth, up pops a young waitress who wants to comment on Munchkin's cuteness. Munchkin, always embarrassed by unexpected attention, promptly performs an ostrich-burrow into my thigh. I laugh, which further embarrasses Munchkin, and she starts crying.
The waitress leaves; I direct Munchkin back to her pb sammich; and all is well once again.
About ten minutes later, we see the waitress heading back toward our table. I look over at Munchkin to see if she'll be able to handle herself this time--and I find my bright-eyed beauty pointing her Middle Finger straight up in the air, her finger and unthinking gaze directed at the approaching waitress.
Yeah.
As the waitress--with a sudden air of uncertainty--reaches our table, I gently but swiftly cup Munchin's hand into mine and sweep her arm down under the table. I struggle to catch my breath long enough to admonish, in the waitress' hearing, "Sweetie, that, um, means something you don't want it to mean."
Munchkin's dad & I are both fighting back raucous bursts of laughter; the waitress is struggling with giggles of her own, and, remembering what made Munchkin cry earlier, tries to cover with, "Oh, look at this funny tray!" as she hurries away.
Munchkin knows something funny just happened, because Mommy and Daddy can't stop laughing. And, she knows that she had something to do with it.
This pleases her, so she shows us her middle finger again. And again, and again, and again. Still guffawing violently, I am unable to explain anything to her. In a panic, I blurt out, "Oh, that's not the funny finger; we meant the POINTER finger is the funny one!"
So she delightedly POINTS for us over and over again (thank Goodness), until I finally force myself to stop laughing and explain to her [without explaining to her] why her previous gesture cannot be made in public.
"But we sing the finger song at school!"
"Then you may only point your middle finger at school, during that song, ok?"
From behind the wall of our booth, up pops a young waitress who wants to comment on Munchkin's cuteness. Munchkin, always embarrassed by unexpected attention, promptly performs an ostrich-burrow into my thigh. I laugh, which further embarrasses Munchkin, and she starts crying.
The waitress leaves; I direct Munchkin back to her pb sammich; and all is well once again.
About ten minutes later, we see the waitress heading back toward our table. I look over at Munchkin to see if she'll be able to handle herself this time--and I find my bright-eyed beauty pointing her Middle Finger straight up in the air, her finger and unthinking gaze directed at the approaching waitress.
Yeah.
As the waitress--with a sudden air of uncertainty--reaches our table, I gently but swiftly cup Munchin's hand into mine and sweep her arm down under the table. I struggle to catch my breath long enough to admonish, in the waitress' hearing, "Sweetie, that, um, means something you don't want it to mean."
Munchkin's dad & I are both fighting back raucous bursts of laughter; the waitress is struggling with giggles of her own, and, remembering what made Munchkin cry earlier, tries to cover with, "Oh, look at this funny tray!" as she hurries away.
Munchkin knows something funny just happened, because Mommy and Daddy can't stop laughing. And, she knows that she had something to do with it.
This pleases her, so she shows us her middle finger again. And again, and again, and again. Still guffawing violently, I am unable to explain anything to her. In a panic, I blurt out, "Oh, that's not the funny finger; we meant the POINTER finger is the funny one!"
So she delightedly POINTS for us over and over again (thank Goodness), until I finally force myself to stop laughing and explain to her [without explaining to her] why her previous gesture cannot be made in public.
"But we sing the finger song at school!"
"Then you may only point your middle finger at school, during that song, ok?"
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