Friday, January 30, 2009

World Peace (o.k., ya, whatever you say boss)

Thoughts on "World Peace" (or "harsher punishment for parole violators"):

"How am I supposed to get along if you don't let me do what I want?" --Douglas

Gargamel

It seems like Vladimir Putin, Osama Bin Laden, Attila the Hun, O.J. Simpson, the Joker, Gargamel, Mr. Hyde, Lex Luther, the Borg Queen, Darth Vadar, Kahn, and the Sheriff of Nottingham, have all been reading Douglas' Book of Unfairness (now available in Russian, Arabic, Chinese, English, Nonsensical, Archaic English, and Borgese).  To give us hope and a foot in the door of peace, he states that he could get along under certain conditions, but only after the will of the opposition has been subdued.  "Ah...now I can get along.  You just sit there with your eyes crossed, relishing in the fairy mesmer that tells you that "all ways are my ways."  The mommies of all of the above non-get-alonger-ists need padded cells or a super power installed promptly!

Thoughts on Reproduction and the ultimate fanny pack:

Reed:  How do baby Kangaroos get out and into their mommy's pouch? 

Douglas:  Oh, I know, when the baby is ready to come out, the stomach cracks open and then you see the baby in the pouch.

Kangaroo

Brilliant!  I love it when Reed and Douglas answer each other's questions.  I don't think I'll have to do too much when the bigger questions come.  They'll either give each other the answers from their over active imaginations, look the answer up in the illustrated book,  Dino and Dina Find an Egg, p. 35 (that's not the real title, but it should be), ask one of their friends or cousins, or finally corner mommy who will say, "the doctor cut a whole in my stomach and pulled you out, really!  But how you got there is...uh...where do you think babies come from?

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Ew! They're kissing!

Alas, I am in my old lady night gown, the knit cream one with the purple flowers, hair tightly clipped and tied back, and feet freed of socks and shoes.  If it wasn't for the tiny thread of memory that told me I had a Hershey's kiss hidden in a remote corner of a kitchen cupboard I might not be sitting here trying to release some of the day's anxiety through the justified placement of organized letters. Rather, I'd be quickly pacing the kitchen tiles, trying to cut any hair that tried to free itself of it's plastic confines, and throwing shoes that I tripped over.  Chocolate, it can be such a life preserver at times!

Hershey's Kisses Chocolate 

This afternoon, in order to form a more perfect unio...I mean, in order to change up the usual routine of the boys coming home, de-cloaking in a reptilian manner, greeting mommy with a smile and then a demand of some sort, to be followed by an all out brawl with Isaac (he has unique ways of welcoming his brothers home), I decided that we should go on an outing to the library.

library of congress

Reed and Douglas' favorite part of the library is the Non-Fiction section upstairs with all the people who know how to be reverent (some books have earned a certain degree of honor and respect deserving of quiet, awed moments by its aisle hopping perusers), or at least know how not to run up and down aisles laughing in the library.  Reed and Douglas have almost mastered this one but Isaac has not.  This is why, beforehand, I told them we would only be visiting the juvenile section of the library.  They whined and suffered with a good degree of moaning, moping, and moisture as we sat looking at the "this is so below our dignity style of non-fiction section" of the library.  They, lacking sincerity in their expressions, grudgingly relinquished any hope of a "real" book on dinosaurs and settled on some childhood adventure paperbacks:  Ralphie:  "Heh, I was just kidding, even though Schwartz is getting one. I guess I 'd just like some Tinker Toys.."  (Christmas Story)

dinosaur-eggs-e446-327-ga

Well, after a little bit more of the moaning, etc. I finally gave in, I know, I'm the worst type of mother out there, but I thought maybe Isaac has matured these last few months and would refrain from the usual behavior, which by the way also includes pushing the books from one side of the shelf through to the other.  So, on the way up the stairs I told them they had to go directly to the dinosaur section and pick a book as fast as they could and they said they would. 

They found the spot on the bottom shelf and quickly started seeking out THE best dino book.  There was some quarreling over who grabbed which book first etc. and I had to come and insist they hurry or they wouldn't get one.  They whined some more and Douglas testily said, "Fine, I'll get this one!" and grabbed it because of the dinosaur eggs on the cover.  

I have learned that library trips should be calm, well thought out, singular, and sedated child adventures.  We got home and I looked at our catch consisting of those "oh fine, I'll get this one" books and the prized dinosaur ones.  I really shouldn't have rushed these findings because it turns out we came home with a book on dinosaur reproduction, with illustrations.  The book is going to wait out it's "checked-out" status on the top of the book shelf as I am not in the state of mind to explain what Dina and Dino are doing on page 35.

Birds and bees 3

 

Monday, January 26, 2009

Parting a Path for Pat, the Pirate, and Pat's aunt.

mr-potato-head

My living room floor looks like a vegetarian horror film staring Mr. Potato Head in the process of being boiled, roasted, pan seared, charred, mashed, and skewered. The following is a conversation between Mr. Pirate Potato and Mr. or Mrs. Pat Potato, before I tripped into the room, going something like this (random thought: Are there cross dressers where spuds are involved? I'm sure the unavoidable androgyny inherent in the lives of potatoes has spared Hasbro a few headaches where lawsuit-happy gender activists are involved) :

Mr. Pirate Potato: You better pick a good one this time or this will be the last spud race you ever see, get my drift?

Mr.or Mrs. Pat Potato: Well, I'm just going to put this mustache and this skirt on and nobody will recognize me when I place this bet on the Irish spud with the blemishes. Trust me, I'll be back before you can sprout eyes.

Mr. Pirate Potato: "betray [me], and I will fong you, until your insides are your out, and your outsides are in, your entrails will become your ex trails I will w-rip...all the p...ung. Pain, lots of pain." (Knight's Tale)

IMG_2088 [800x600]

"They did it, they finally did it! [Dang] you all to [heck]!" (Planet of the Apes).

Apparently, Mr. or Mrs. Pat Potato must have taken the winnings and made a smashing run for it. Unfortunately for him or her, Mr. Pirate Potato was used to his or her type of spud's antics and I found the results on the floor and there were definitely ex trails, entrails and lots of fonging. Has anyone seen my masher?

darthtater

I couldn't resist posting this picture of "Darthtater".

P.S. Thank you Wendy for the Mr. Potato Head set. As you can see it definitely helps to build the imagination. I've been kicking a tongue and arm around all weekend.

Friday, January 23, 2009

"What?"

My previous post was about getting up in the morning and some of the issues with, well getting up in the morning.  One of those issues is the part where the boys pull on their jackets and slither into their backpacks.  Of course it seems to always be 2 minutes before they need to start walking out the door that they bring up some things they needed to do or bring to school, etc.  hearing test

Today, they pointed out that they had a paper in their backpacks telling us about hearing tests going on at school.  That was fine, they pulled them out, I looked at them and said "okay," what else does one say.  Looking at the paper on the table Reed, in his curious way, asked me what a hearing test was (Reed knows the answers to these things but for some reason he just has to voice the question, almost like the mental struggle is for my benefit, like when they were kids and I'd tell them "say dog, or say train," etc.  the cooperation might have been an effort to entertain mommy and encourage her so she won't feel like her attempts at child rearing are a complete failure).  Douglas was standing next to me at the time getting his pack on.  Being the sarcastic and impatient person that I am in the morning (you would be too if you woke up and realized you had been turned into a cyclops in your sleep) I briefly said, "it's for testing your ears" and then further expounded loudly, yet to myself that, "maybe when they test you they'll discover that you really can't hear because you never listen to me or obey me when I'm talking to you....blah, blah, blah...so maybe you guys really do have hearing problems."  Douglas, still standing next to me said, with perfect comedic timing, "What?"  Yes, that's why I love them.

Early, yet upbeat!

"Begin each day as if it were on purpose" (quoted from Hitch but I don't know who first said it).

cyclope3

There are mornings, such as the rainy cold one we are having today, where I feel there are evil forces at work in waking me up. First, there are the perky harpies on the radio alarm clock with news of cannibalism in the underworld and a slowing on the I-15, all in the same C above middle C tone, fluctuating slightly between B and D.

cyclopes2

Then, I wake up to find that I've been turned into a cyclops with no recollection as to how, but know it as I reach up and feel the other eye has been completely sealed up in sleepy glue. Stiffly, I roll, yet with forceful grunts, to pulverize the alarm clock and then with a parched mouth start searching for a glass of water to wash down the remaining wool from last night's sheep-ka-bobs.

Alas, I emerge from the cave to go and wake up the cyclops-lets for school and beg them to get dressed quickly without eating each other and with promises that I will give them each a nice bowl of Odysseus Oats and a leg of lamb. They are quickly sent to school in their woolen coats leaving me to finally shower and turn back into the Goddess that I know I am, as to which one, I can't remember, but I'm sure I have two eyes, clean hair and clothes, shaved legs, and an appetite for ambrosia instead of sheep guts.

botticelli-venus-detail-sm

I think, if I were to be able to live as the beginning quote says, I'd have to wake up an hour earlier, take care of all the reviving at that time, go back to bed and then wake up once more on the right side of the bed. It's hard to do something on purpose unless you've had some time and and a great deal of premeditation. "Okay, I'm waking up right now, this is my choice, that alarm clock is just a gentle encouragement and I will conquer! Anyway, it was my plan all night to destroy that alarm clock this morning."

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

"The Face of a child can say it all, especially the mouth part of that face." --Jack Handy

***warning, long entry***

corset

There was a time when corsets were worn in a fashion to constrict breathing, actually I think they were always worn like this, the breathing part.  In this same time there was a certain modest gentility where women of fine breeding were demure and men were gentlemen, reserving all "manly" behavior and language for the billiard room.  In these times of long ago, a man would never say a naughty word in front of a lady because the shock of it would send the oxygen depleted woman into a swoon preceded by a back-of-the-hand to forehead motion followed by, a gentle yet surprised high pitched sigh. Naturally, the gentlemen next to her would gallantly catch her while giving the offending cad a disapproving glare meant to warn of an impending meeting in the billiard room where chastisement made with some more naughty words might be safely encased while being expressed with great freedom and force.  A few years earlier the gentleman would have challenged the offender to a duel but that usually ended up in more fainting spells, so as evolution goes, the tongue with its sharpness did the cutting, of course far from flammable ear hairs.

fainting woman

I think of myself as a lady, though I don't wear a corset, my control top nylons do a pretty good job of taking care of the oxygen depletion.  (Tight jeans can have the same effect, especially the above the belly button styles worn in the 80's and 90's).  Lately, I've observed that a man's billiard room has had some expanding renovations as well as open admissions for males, females, and of late, children, my children to be more precise.

I have trained them to say please and thank you.  I have encouraged them not to hit, spit, kick, head butt, or other provoking things to each other.  One thing I have not done with any degree of success is teach them to use good language.  Granted, there is one word they might have learned from me, but the rest I'd have to attribute to their school friends and the bathroom stalls in public restrooms.  Now, when I first heard something slip out I tried to act calmly and gently by saying "we don't say that word, it's not nice."  Soon, they realized as they expressed more new vocabulary words that there were a lot of "not nice" words.  Soon, I started calling them "naughty" and "dirty" words and began making threats of time outs and washing their mouths out with soap.  At these moments I would think of Ralphie sucking on soap after saying the "f dash, dash, dash word"

ralphiesoap

"Over the years I got to be quite a connoisseur of soap. My personal preference was for Lux, but I found Palmolive had a nice, piquant after-dinner flavor - heady, but with just a touch of mellow smoothness. Life Buoy, on the other hand..."

Well, that hasn't worked out all to well but they have stopped saying certain words in my presence and have taken them down to their "billiard room" a.k.a the basement.  Because they forget that that door is open they don't realize that mommy is monitoring.  To be the "responsible parent" that I'm trying to be, I make an angry stomping sound down the stairs while molding my face into its "I'm mad" contortion, in order to confront the bad words.  Reed and Douglas, upon hearing the steps I'm making and realizing their impending doom, immediately start making all kinds of accusations putting blame for the word on the other, then backing them up with why they had to say such and such.  "He made me!" is always mentioned somewhere in the verbal chaos.

victorian kids

"What?  I didn't say anything!"

Luckily, I have not yet fainted, partly because I've started to abandon wearing nylons all together and also because some wonderful designer decided a lower cut waist line would be a good thing for jeans in this decade.  Even with the comfortable pants I wore today, I almost passed out from a laugh induced lack of oxygen when Isaac kept saying the word "bum".  I told him not to say it, and after remembering hearing his brother's defending their own naughty language he said in a very informative and somewhat condescending manner, comparable to the teacher teaching the ignorant student, "Bum is not a naughty word, it's a good naughty word!"  Apparently there are good naughty words and bad naughty words and I'm just going to have to differentiate before I decide to act shocked and swoon.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Don't feed them after midnight!

gremlin

We have a new time for church since our ward split and I am feeling like the official time should be called "the witching hour."  Primary is fine, it's just when we get into Sacrament meeting that The Three turn into gremlins and not the soft, cute, and furry versions.  The time is from 11-2 right, during lunch, and so every other minute three haunting voices repetitiously wailed "I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, grrrr!"  "Grrr can have many meanings and translates into sounds like fingernails on chalkboards, piercing screams, metal rubbing against metal, dentist drills, or (in Lacey's case) cotton being pulled apart. 

gremlins1

I'm sure anyone can guess my mental and emotional state but if you can't it is not stable, so beware.  I was asked to play my violin during the meeting and what would usually be a frightening thing was in fact the greatest relief, like a drink of ambrosia or winning the lottery.  I gleefully unpeeled my children, tripped over someone's shoe, and frolicked up to the stage to play.  Unfortunately, it only lasted about 2 minutes but it did sustain me for another 20 minutes.  I won't go on but I am seriously considering putting something of a sleepy bye nature into a water bottle next Sunday to be safely tucked away in a side pocket of my purse.

Friday, January 16, 2009

The Great Re-Reader!

TheThiefAug05

QueenOfAttoliaAug05 KingOfAttoliaAug05

All right, I read them again, the Eugenides series by Megan Whalen Turner.  I had to do something besides reread the Twilight books, pathetic I know.  I am a re-reader, I confess, I can't help myself.  If I find something I really like I want to linger a bit longer in that world.  It's just too hard to say goodbye to wonderful characters like Eugenides, Edward, Bella, Corlath, Harrimadsol, Isi, Elizabeth , Gregor, Eragon, Ender, Harry, Jacob, Captain Wentworth, and yes, I can go on and on.

I would recommend all three of the above pictured books to anyone, male or female.  I believe there's supposed to be a 4th one.  Hurry Megan and finish it already!

A couple more of my books in need of reinforced spines are The Hero and the Crown and one of my very favorites, Blue Sword.

Hero and the Crown Blue sword

And finally, there are the Stephenie Meyer books which I will not show pictures or links to as I believe it might be contributing the unhealthy habits of a large population fighting the consumption of addictive paper products.  Those which come with spines, many letters including E, D, W, A, R, D, B, E, L, L, A and a plethora of page numbers all being force fed at the speed of 60 watts an hour straight through the eyeballs. Time for a new hobby perhaps?  Travel?  Oh, I don't know, maybe a trip up toward the Olympic Peninsula?  (I'm done, tired, and in a weird mood (well that last part is actually normal for me), good night).

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Catch me if you can!

olympics 2

Alas, my romance with Jerry the Germ, a time in which my husband would give me no kisses, has come to an end. I must say that Jerry the Olympiad of Germs performed with great form, speed, and expression.  The form being a 45 degree angle over the toilet, the speed being 3 seconds to get there, and the expression in colors we shall not even try to explain.  Yes, I too competed with the Germ but I, unlike the 3 before me, did not help in his performance.  I have the unfortunate skill of not being able to hurl.  It has happened in the past, the one time I remember specifically was around age 12 when I had consumed more than my share of a new delicacy called the pine nut.  I can barely think of the white oval legume without breaking into a cold sweat.  Gluttony, for me, is definitely a deadly, or at least a nauseating, sin.  But since then I could probably count on one hand the number of times relief has come in the worship of the porcelain God form.

I have a similar problem, along the same lines of not allowing things to leave my body, that is when I have children.  With nausea you at least, once your immune system does its job, will get over.  When you're pregnant and the baby (or babies) won't come out after 2 days of labor, Prostin, Pitocin, and verbal encouragement, is not something you will simply get over in time.  Thus the C-section is born along with a Reed, a Douglas, and an Isaac.

IMG_2082 [800x600]

New subject...and about time, sorry.  But speaking of births, Reed and Douglas just turned 7! 

bowling

We had a small party with cousins in which we bowled and ate pizza and cake.  The boys got a glimpse into the exciting world of what is to be in a league as not too many lanes down from us was a herd of serious bowlers.  It is still hard to believe that it is considered a sport, and quite a serious one at that.  I think one of the old guys nearly went into cardiac arrest when Isaac wandered quite innocently over to their platform (or whatever it's called, pier, launching station, bowling board?) to look at their bowling balls.  Thanks to the rails all of the minors got at least a 45.  Out of shear luck I almost beat Chris scoring 320, 321, whatever it took (no, not even close and I do know the highest score is 300).

IMG_2085 [800x600] 

It's a rare moment in which I get a picture of Isaac with a clean face.

IMG_2087 [800x600]

Caught!  Napping and playing on mommy and daddy's ipods.  It was a Sunday afternoon though.

IMG_2069 [800x600]

Our newest nephew, the very handsome Henry.

 IMG_2067 [800x600]

A final picture before Matt, Leigh, and Henry flew back to medical school in the Bahamas, jealous?  Yes!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Jerry the Germ

Isaac was sick this morning with what I think Douglas had on Thursday.  It's always interesting yet disgusting to watch as germs jump from one child to the next.  I bet it's considered an Olympic sport among germs and the true challenge is to see if you can get all of the family infected in the shortest amount of time.  "Jerry the Germ wins!  In a 5 person race he hit 3 in the first week and 2 in the second giving him an infectious round total of 10!"

olympic laurel

After hearing of Isaac's physical state, Reed and Douglas asked this morning who the first person was to throw up (they're obsessed with superlatives, the first, the best, the fastest).  After a second they answered their own question by saying Adam, but then I felt the need to correct them and say that it was most likely Eve.  After some explaining about morning sickness they had to agree.

Now I hope Jerry the Germ will realize that I have a great immune system and that we're all taking our vitamins and quit after Isaac.  I think I'll go eat some fruit and take a swig of Pepto just to dampen his spirits.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

"Abby someone... Abby Normal"

young frankenstein

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Igor, would you mind telling me whose brain I did put in?
Igor: And you won't be angry?
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: I will NOT be angry.
Igor: Abby someone.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Abby someone. Abby who?
Igor: Abby Normal.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Abby Normal?
Igor: I'm almost sure that was the name.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: Are you saying that I put an abnormal brain into a seven and a half foot long, fifty-four inch wide GORILLA?
[shakes and grabs him]
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE TELLING ME?

You judge for yourself if perhaps I and many of my gender might be Abby in this situation.

I have to admit, I have finally found an action figure that I feel I must buy.  Legolas and Prince Caspian were tempting, but Edward Cullen is irresistible.  I wonder if he comes scented like Strawberry Shortcake and Lemon Meringue?  If so, I'm sure there will be a lot of women found lying on their floors passed out from a lack of breathing with smiles on their faces.  (That's the effect Edward, a very good smelling (and looking)  vampire, sometimes seemed to have on Bella.  This added info is in case you the reader of this blog is unfamiliar with or unaware of the large percentage of women unhealthily obsessed with the Twilight book series and now movie).

Edward Action Figure

I'm waiting to see if they will make a Jacob action figure in which case they would have to include a wolf suit.  Maybe even a bowl marked "Fido"

Yes, this is all very "Abby Normal."  I'm guessing the subject of Edward has had a hand in guiding some therapy sessions where men are in attendance. 

Doctor:  Don't worry George, she'll be back and there are no such things as vampires.  Perhaps she's just trying to boost the film's profits as a way to support the efforts of a budding film company.

Patient:  But she's seen the movie like 5 times already! 

Doctor:  How many times did you go to see Lord of the Rings or Star Wars.  I'm sure you don't really believe in Elves and Wookiees, now do you?

Patient:  Don't you?

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Feet (and ankles) like an Ankylosaurus

hydrocortisone cream

Goal #4 has been accomplished.  The tree was painfully removed thanks to Chris and his ability not to squeal like a little girl while poisonous needles pierce his tender skin.  We had to apply hydrocortisone cream to his dotted rash covered skin but I believe he will once again regain his baby bum soft epidermis.  (You should see how soft his feet are, but I guess that's the result of always wearing socks and shoes unlike me who has a layer of armored skin comparable to that of an ankylosaurus.  I'm confident in saying that my bare feet have had more fun getting to their current cracked state than any soft foot out there.  Is it not a skill to be able to pick up used dryer sheets by just stepping on them?). 

Our new problem and I suppose goal is getting the before mentioned tree excavated from the foot of snow now covering it in time for the trash man, or whoever it is who takes all remnants of Christmas to be recycled, to take it away. I tried with my Barbie sized muscles to get it out and failed.

  barbie_poop

Can you believe such a Barbie exists?!  Why would any child want to pretend to pick up dog poop?!

Actually, I was already beat from shoveling. Maybe that's why I appeared to be Miss Wimpy for the neighbor across the street who was frolicking across his driveway with his snow blower while I trudged and budged the snow off of mine.   Yes, you can frolic if you have a snow blower and you can use expletives if you don't, though I of course didn't.

As for the other goals, #1, Douglas has showered and smells like something fruity, watermelon I think.  Because of the snow interfering with the satellites in space and the Martian who is wearing one as a hat, I haven't been able to accomplish # 2 , that of Google-ing the location of my gym.  I have had a droplet of luck with #3 after we purchased some Batman underwear but have a very long road, river, whirlpool ahead of us.

batman-underwear-L1

The quest to find better foods expressed in #5 has been thwarted by the fact that I drive by a Macdonald's every day.  Not that I regularly buy food there but I swear that I'm inhaling several grams of fat and a few teaspoons of cellulite every time my car nears it.  Either I should get nose plugs or start hitting the re-circulate button at the first hint of a french fry.  Time for a Rubens pinup.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

"Do or do not, there is no try."

yoda

We are encouraged, persuaded, bribed, threatened and sometimes forced to better ourselves.  Encourage:  "Try not to so accurately aim that spit at your brother's face."  Persuade:  "Please, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't spit on your brother." Bribe:  "If you don't spit on your brother mummy won't feed you to the lions." Force:  "Where's the duct tape?"  Anyway, here are a few goals I've chosen to share with the world in hopes that someone might encourage, persuade, bribe, threaten and force me to accomplish throughout the year.  Will power, where do I get some?

Goal 1:  Make sure my kids shower at least once a week.  I asked Douglas today when he had last showered  and he said "last year."  I'm pretty sure he's had at least one since, but close enough.

google-logo

Goal 2:  Google the location to my gym, "I know it's somewhere around here."

hole-in-ozone-layer

Goal 3:  Potty train Isaac.  How does one train a boy who's afraid to sit on the toilet, doesn't mind walking around in a dirty diaper, and looks forward to the explosive disgust his parents express while changing a diaper with ozone depleting capabilities.  By the way, if you're looking for that hole, it's right over our house next to the mushroom cloud and a mysterious shape shifting green puff of smoke.

vacuum cleaner bag pine needles

Goal 4:  Take down Christmas tree before it takes us down.  I was thinking that maybe instead of trying to remove our carnivorous tree we could do some sort of contained explosion and then just vacuum up the ashes.  This would probably bring some sort of consolation and closure to the family of the impaled chipmunk trapped in it's pine scented  fangs.  We could even bury the vacuum bag and have a moment of silence for the little guy.

vegetable man

Summer, 1573 by Giuseepe Arcimboldo

Goal 5:  Discover new food groups.  Maybe I could find a poster of that food pyramid and put it on the refrigerator door.  If that doesn't encourage healthy eating I could go so far as to scare myself into it by putting up one of those fleshy Peter Paul Rubens paintings, the man who declared cellulite sexy, ew.

Christmas 2017- The Case of the Giggles

         “ My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, ...