Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Another one bites the…?

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Isaac:  Today I bit a mean boy with my vampire teeth.

Mom:  It’s not nice to bite people.

Isaac:  Oh, but he kept hitting me and hitting me.

Mom:  What was his name?

Isaac:  Pretzel-head but my teacher calls him Poo-poo head.  Actually, no she calls him Bum-head.

He was probably referring to the teacher he likes to call Mrs. Gravey, who is a very nice lady and would never call anyone those kind of names.  Aren’t 4 year olds so, so, so…is there one word that can pin down a 4 year old?  I don’t think so.

Why, oh why?

Mama’s Losin’ It Challenge

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4.) “Why do we watch them? Make fun of soap operas with a piece of writing.”

Mr. Mom quote where Jack gets addicted to soap operas:

(on the phone discussing a soap opera): It's gotta be Todd's. What...Tony's? Tony had a vasectomy. Waddya mean it didn't take!

imageThe first and only soap opera I ever watched was Santa Barbara.  We were visiting our cousins for the summer and my older cousin Maquel, no longer interested in playing with Barbies, invited me to sit with her and watch the show.  All it took was one episode of watching the Capwells make complete messes of theirs and other’s lives to be hooked.  image

Kelly had the worst luck with men, falling in love with one, sleeping with that one’s brother, getting pregnant with someone’s child, falling in love with one man and then discovering she was really dating his evil twin brother who then has the good brother killed.  I think there was a little unknown incest in the mix, a falling in love with her sister’s ex-husband, a few more lovers who were killed, one committal to a mental asylum, and then finally, the show got cancelled.  image The other two main soap stars, Eden and Cruz were pretty much the central characters around which most all things orbited.  Their relationship was one of love, social class tension, the question of do-I-release-the-fact-that-I-know-my fiancĂ©’s mother-killed-her-own-son, to his fellow police officers?  Several postponements of their wedding, people falling and coming out of comas, finally a wedding, more crimes, then the inevitable divorce, etc., etc,. etc……

Alas, as Mr. Mom said while being lured against his better judgment into watching a soap opera, “why do people even watch this stuff?”  I don’t know, but fortunately for me I escaped the addiction and haven’t looked back.  Nobody’s life should be that “interesting,” and if one really lived like these people, we’d all be locked in an asylum with Kelly, as well as being heavily medicated, and most likely all ending up in comas.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

“The horror! The horror!”

Mama’s Losin’ It Challenge

3.) Open your picture folders…find a random “February” picture from a past year and tell a story.

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Let’s see, how can I put this story in a delicate way, in a way which will spare or at least pad the tender imaginations of so many. 

Once upon a time, on a day in February during the year 2006, two little boys of around 4 years of age, were discovered by their father in the basement surrounded by the contents of a torn open bathroom trash bag.  This father, upon his arrival to the subterranean level of his home, was met with a horrific sight, the kind only found in “Grosser than Gross” novels.  To get the best visual possible from this scene, let us first peruse the area in the order in which he did.  First, his twin sons sitting on the floor, covered/painted red all over their faces and hands.  Second, the white walls painted in red streaks at about the 3 foot level.  Third, the spilled contents of the bathroom trashcan.  Forth, those contents:  tissues, used dental floss, and an assortment of a certain monthly visitor’s grotesque leftovers.  Fifth, another look at his children’s faces and the similarity in color to the spilled contents and their painted faces.  Lastly, an out of body experience of horror felt by the father and revealed in a inchoate cry of disgust, that if put into words would have translated, “The horror!  The horror!” 

If you could not imagine the scene that this poor father saw, consider yourself blessed, yet guilty of a lack of imagination.  At the sound of that cry, the mother of the twins, and wife of the disgusted husband, came running to see what could have torn such a sound from her dear one’s throat.  “What’s the matter?” she begs.  The husband, now nearly speechless, points to the scene, for his wife to see.  She, being the type of person to adopt the rational perspective if someone else has already claimed the irrational, took it all in with a more scientific view.  She slowly approached her two children who were now staring wide eyed, yet somehow guiltily at their parents, in order to get a better look.  Tip-toeing carefully over the red matter, she silently reached her children, crouched down to see their faces and what they still might have in their clenched hands, all the while praying that the label “Kotex” would not be found.  She took a quick glance back at her husband to verify that he hadn’t fainted and then focused back on the faces of her bright eyed boys.  At first glance, one might think that these 4 year olds had joined a cult where blood sacrifice and bodily graffiti was a right of passage. However, upon closer inspection and the correct placement of lighting one would quickly see that this particular cult would have been founded by either Maybelline or Mary Kay, as the red that now framed those faces could be no other than the recently discarded “Amber Suede.”  She quickly reassured her husband that it was only lipstick and pointed out that it glittered.  He tentatively, and somewhat shakily, took the last few steps down the stairs and walked into the room.  He asked her if she was sure it was lipstick and then took a closer look for himself.  In order to ease her husband’s mind, she also verified that the red on the wall also belonged to the same tube of lipstick and quickly found the newly worn down tip to give him as proof. 

Laughter soon followed, more from the wife than the husband, and then the cleaning up and the proper reprimand given to the children.  All in all, a pretty harmless affair, however putting the husband off completely from supporting his wife in any future lipstick purchases.  She didn’t really like wearing the stuff anyway and would from that point on make sure chap stick or any other clear gloss, be her choice in the art of lip appeal.

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Cold-blooded vs. the Warm-blooded

I think I will be forever entertained by the complexity of my kid’s imaginations.  I just know when they look over these scenes of battle that it is live-action and that we adults are just too far removed from the world of imagination to see it.  Check out the carnage below as the army guys meet the dinosaurs.  I’m not sure on whose side the cow, horses, and tiger are on but they too seem to be surrounding the “Combat Carls.”

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IMG_3516 [640x480] Isaac said that the two dinosaurs on the left are on their way to eat condors.  Oh.

IMG_3517 [640x480] If you look closely at this scene, it is really quite grotesque.  I don’t thing any of these guys actually have their heads on but I do see them strewn about the battlements.

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This is Isaac being as scary as he can be, I was too charmed to shiver with fear as I took this picture. 

A Momentous Event

My two oldest boys turned eight last month and were baptized members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just this past Saturday.  This was such a wonderful experience for them and for all those who drove far to be there. 

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We are so proud of them and for the choice they’ve made.  It was funny watching the two of them.  Douglas was like a ball of wild energy hardly able to contain his excitement in the anticipation.  Reed was very solemn and took it all in with great seriousness.  Each reaction is so like their personalities in all they do.

Thank-you to all who came and the many of you who drove a long way to be with us.  We love you all!

Thursday, February 4, 2010

An Empirical Education

Mama’s Losin’ Challenge

5.) List 10 things you never knew until you were mom.

1.  That boogers make a stronger adhesive than super glue.

2.  When children are too quiet for too long they are most likely asleep or getting into some very, very, very deep trouble.

3.  Patience truly is a virtue.

4.  Children can scream in pitches that if contained could probably cut through metal in the same way Superman’s laser vision does.

5.  That I should have taken classes in aerodynamics, physics, paleontology, and chemistry instead of focusing on humanities.  Oh, the questions I could answer if I’d been properly educated in college.

6.  Gas/or bodily humor is just about the funniest type of humor on earth.

7.  That I’d gain 3 extra memory carriers.  Whenever I take my children to the grocery store I no longer need a list, I just assign each one a few things to remember.  Of course, the list is always somewhat augmented to include Skittles or Hershey's bars, but we’re still pretty close in the end.

8.  That there are people who start off each day at a jog.  Just this morning, Isaac woke up, heard his brothers from his bed, jumped out of his covers and was down the hallway before his stuffed bear could even say good morning.

9.  That all you need for a good abdominal workout is a child willing to share his perspectives on the universe, the digestive tract, and what the tooth fairy wears when on the job.

10.  That I was only seeing a fragment of the beauty and size of life and love.  How can the heart hold so much?

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

How would you write the tale?

Mama’s Losin’ It Challenge

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3.) Gregory MaGuire (author of books like Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister) is wildly popular right now (as is the musical Wicked). Write your own “re telling” of a classic fairy tale.

(As usual, please forgive the spelling/grammatical errors.  “I was not born under a [grammatical] planet.”)

Wendy the Frog Princess

The soft white lilies had closed and bade the warm summer day good night as Wendy slipped one long green leg, and then the other, into the warm tranquil pond. She held to the edge of one of the largest pads with her delicate webbed hands as she leisurely treaded up and down with her legs, making little swirls in the water behind her. She was quite at ease as she listened to the gentle chirps of insects and the quiet trickling of water accompanying this lazy evening’s sultry air. She watched as a fat fly buzzed by, oblivious to all things amphibious. Then, with a lightning fast flick of her tongue, she had a scrumptious dinner. No longer hungry, she dived to the bottom of her pond, stretching out her legs and arms between each stroke and thought about how carefree her life had been these past four months. She gazed thoughtfully, up through the water at a wave-rippled full moon and remembered the night of the ball, where she’d been told she had to marry the Prince of Tweed.

The prince was a spoiled, vain, narrow-shouldered dolt who probably couldn’t complete a sentence without including himself as the subject, object, indirect object and even the verb. Tweedy was the name she called him when she had to talk about him in civilized circles. Such circles, she thought, were better left unattended, leaving plenty of time for small circles of two, consisting of herself and her closed-mouthed cat, where the prince could be referred to as “Beady-eyed-Tweedy.”

At the end of that doomed ball, she was brought to the front of the assembly where she stood next to her father and step mother. On the other side of her parents stood Tweedy’s parents, the King Ronald Tweed, Queen Maud Tweed, and in her pudgy arms, their dog Pompy. At the end of the noble line stood Beady-eyed-Tweedy himself wearing tight powder blue leggings and a purple tunic. Wendy was tired from the ball, having danced all night with some of the most handsome men in the kingdom (some of whom she wouldn’t mind seeing at the next ball). There she stood, oblivious and daydreaming, as her mind revisited pleasant conversations, beautiful dance steps, and the fairy tale splendor of the evening. She was quite unaware that her father had begun to speak. She wouldn’t have noticed him speaking if her step-mother hadn’t bumped her side with one of her dagger sharp elbows in order to get her attention. Wendy had assumed it was just another, “thank you for coming” speech and the “we’ll see you at the next…” some event, speech. Annoyed, she looked up at her step-mother, then at her father, and then at the Tweed family. Everyone was very serious, or at least stiff and formal. Then she heard her name spoken by her father, “…my daughter, Wendy will, in one month, marry the son of the King and Queen of Tweed.” She wasn’t sure how long her mouth had been open or if she’d even said anything, but time had stopped for at least five seconds, after which reality made a banging and annoying crash right in front of her. “What?” She said, shocked, not sure if this was a nightmare. It had obviously been a shock and everyone knew it. As discreetly as possible, she was ushered out of the room, was placed into a large high-backed chair, where she was given a very short, but stern, lecture on court etiquette and then some further information concerning her betrothal. She was only seventeen, and had just gotten over her “physically-and-socially-awkward stage,” and was not at all prepared for the “surprise-betrothal stage,” which was, in her opinion, thrown far too often on young female members of royal families…(the tale goes on but not today…)

Christmas 2017- The Case of the Giggles

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