Friday, February 23, 2007


Had some time and space the past week or so. Used it to ponder. The things I ponder - oh there's such a wide berth up there in the pea brain. That's where the 'space' is, I guess. Har.

Anyhoo, if you're not a Gray's Anatomy fan, skip on to the next ponderance. It occurs to me, appropo of (perhaps) nothing but I (seriously) doubt it, that of all the characters in that show, all of them are sexually what I would call promiscuous and just nearly without the most terrific of morals of the sexual kind - to some varying degree...... with the exception of FOUR. Here they are:

Christina Yang
and the Chief (currently). Yes, I do remember that he has a past history with a long term affair. Since the show began however, there's been no bed hopping going on.

Anybody notice any unifying element about these four, and the absence of that similarity in the remaining others?

Powerful statement, Shonda. Deeeeeeeep. Meaningful. THAT's what I think. She's tired of normal roles TV and movies portray. That's what I think.

Alright. Ponderance number twaaaahhh. I got the teensiest tinesiest glimmer last night of a compliment from my nine year old son, well not a compliment at all really, an admittance really, a nod. . . just part of a discussion that came so naturally that I almost drove off the road when it found its way off of his lips and into my ears. And if it had been a compliment it wouldn'tve been to me but to my handsome husband AND me, btw. . . . just a weetle clarification thar. OK here it is.
My oldest son and I took a trip to Tarjay, the two of us. We only had four things on our list but the four things all were him. All about him. It was a number one son trip. Not only that but purposefully the trip was arranged to extend ever so slightly past his bedtime. Now get this. Here were the four things: underwear, socks, a wall calendar, and (looking at) a bookcase. Not even like we were buying toys and electronics and CDs and software, right? Regardless. Between those two slight, insignificant facts; 1) just him, and 2) Mom kept him out a little late on a school night, he felt so 'given to', that he wanted to 'give back'. The kid started talking.



"Nick wanted to know why I was grounded this week."

"Ju tell him?"

"Oh sure."


"He thinks it's weird that I have chores. So does Rachel."

Here it comes, I thought. Wait for it.......wait for it........brace yourself......

"In fact Mom, the other day Rachel's Mom cleaned up the toy room before we could even start cleaning it up ourselves."

BOOM! There it was. "Really? What do you think about that?"

"Welllll, I think we should've cleaned it up."

Wait. This was not what I expected. Be cool. "Mmmmm, that's a good thought. Does Rachel's Mom always clean up after her?"

"Yep. Nick's too. But then, they don't get a payday" (that's what they call their allowance) "like Jared and I do either. They think it's pretty awesome I get money every Friday no matter whether I'm great or whether I mess up big time, in an envelope that says Love Mom and Dad." And then. The awesome finale~~~~~~~ "I like our family's way better."

Wow. And yes. He was grounded for NOT doing his chores. Ironic?

Funny, I said to handsome hubby, that it's so hard for us to realize that our children are so darn easy to please. If you give, you get. It's not brain surgery.


Tuesday, February 13, 2007


When it's 4:30 in the afternoon the day before Valentines Day and all you can think about is the fact that you've forgotten to get your neighbor's Grandbaby a Valentines gift and you have to run back out and get that baby something (she's a precious baby she really is and they're the best neighbors you could ever have and you can just bet they'll have Valentines gifts for my boys they ALLLLLLLLways do) I did manage to procure alllll teachers' gifts, get them wrapped, DH and children are taken care of, but just anyhooteepo it's just almost the same feeling I get a few days before Christmas, but cept the feeling I get a few days before Christmas is deeper because Christmas is a spiritual holiday and when this happens at Christmas well then the point I'm missing is a big fat important one no THE big fat important one well maybe not missing just misplaced or displaced but here at Valentines now I'm missing or dissing. . . . . . well.... the meaning of the holiday, which whatever it is, is never gifts, in my book. There. Whew. I been trying to get that out for days and there, I did it ~ all in one sentence, too. Heh. Sorry but there are more gifts to get yet. Aaaacckkk! The neighbor grandbebby.

So. The meaning of Valentines day. Your Valentines! Whoever they are, I guess you're supposed to really let them know how much you cherish them on this special day. Diamond companies make you think the way to do that is by giving a big sparklie. Chocolate manufacturers want you to think it's by giving lots of choc-o-latt-aye. DSW was kind enough to send my handsome hubby a reminder that a gift card would be a great idea. Key word in all those sentences is GIFT.

Hurts me. Cuz a gift is the last thing that tells me that someone loves me. It just tells me they ran by the store. Clicked a mouse button. Handed a sales clerk the Visa. That it's a day they're supposed to give me a gift. What tells me I'm loved is the way they treat me all the time, with the gifts God gave them.


Monday, February 12, 2007


It doan mean what it used ta. This morning my kids are eating breakfast, and they decide it's prudent to pick at each other. One shamelessly makes fun of the other. That one pinches the first one. And the games begin. . . . .

By the time it's time to take #1 son to school, we've reached a crescendo. Their faces are so contorted that it makes them appear to despise each other, which at the moment is probably fairly accurate, but being that they're so young and live in the moment, is, well, momentary - or maybe morningtary. Fortunately breakfast has already been consumed. There's no food to fly. By the time we get in the car an amazing thing has occurred. Jr. Mint has found a way to outsmart #1. Jr. Mint is 4. #1 is 9.

"Is everyone buckled?"

"I'm not gonna buckle."



Ohhhhhhh, #1. You tipped your hand. Baaaaaaad move. One point for Jr. Mint. Think he knows it?

"Well, I'm NOT buckling. You can't make me, eeeder. Just TRY."

Yep, he knows it.

And still. The nine year old doesn't catch on.

"WELL I'M YOUR BIG BROTHER AND YOU'RE GONNA DO WHAT I SAY!" and with that pounced on him like a buzzard on rotten meat.

This was gonna be a great show. I pulled over, threw the van in park and turned around to watch. They fought until Jr. Mint wore #1 out. Breathing hard, he plopped back down into his seat, and in a weak, small voice, said,

"I'm gonna be late. I can't get him to buckle."

Jr. Mint was whimpering, but still had victory in his eyes and was free from the shackles of a belt buckle.

"I'm not gonna wisten to you, bruddah."

I took my opportunity to sneak in a little comment.


"*snivvle* Whut. *snivvle*"

"I'm so sorry you're gonna be late, but I'll love you whether you're late to school or not. And you know what?"

"*snort* Whut."

"Don't worry. Cuz tomorrow you'll have another chance to make your morning run muuuuuch smoother. In the meanwhile, wanna know what might work?"

"*snarfle" I guess."

"Well, since brother's got his hands over his ears, let's explore this. You know his birthday's in two days, huh. You have a great gift for him, don't you. Are you going to want to give it to him if he doesn't cooperate with you?........ Should you mention that to him?........ How would that work for you, do you think?......"

We were on our way in twenty seconds. It was a light bulb moment for #1 son. I don't think we had any bloodshed. Maybe one pair of glasses got bent in the battle. I'm anxious to see if anyone learned anything.

We'll see tomorrow morning, I s'pose.

Friday, February 02, 2007


My #1 son and his friends have a band. They're nine. Third grade. Title of their first song? I'VE GOT MORE THAN I SHOULD KNOW.

I was scared. More WHAT? Euuwwwwwww nnnneewwwww.

"Oh kewell! Son?"


"Who wrote your song?"


Emma is a sweet girl who has been #1 son's buddy since kindergarten. Not only has she been in his class every year, she's in Light Bulb class with him too. They're close buds, they have similar unruffleable personalities, the wisdom of an old person in a kid's shell, and they each have a skip for their third step. #1 son gave Emma his first science project when it was all over. It was a volcano. That's equal to a friendship ring in pre-teen language, or a bottle of Cristal and a box of Valrhona to us.

"Our Emma?"

"Yeah. She wrote four of 'em, but there'zz only three of 'em here cauz she had to look up and see whether devilish had one L or two. I'll get that one tomorrow."

It was about then my eye began to twitch. The right one. I put my first two fingers firmly on my closed eyelid.


"Hmm? Hey! Who ate all the mini vanilla wafers??? DANG!"


"Hmm? Yeah! I said what! I mean, yes ma'am? Oh by the way. Can you type 'em for us?"

Can I!!

"Oh. Wellllll, I guess. I mean I have a lot going on this afternoon but I think I can make time for that."

"Goodie. I'll work on the logo while you type. You'll love the songs, Mommy er Mom."

I bet. Devilish huh. More than I should know indeed.

We got our chores done and migrated upstairs to the office. #1 son sat behind me with his markers drawing a logo while I typed. After the second line of the song, the edges of my lips curled upwards in a smile. After the refrain, I nearly let out a chuckle but sucked it back up quickly, for here is the MORE than my delicious third grader and his friends and our Emma want to know:

Homework, a test, a sister, a brother, my parents, and all my teachers.
I got an F on my test,
I had to babysit my brother.
I missed my bus,
I got sent to detention.
Will this day ever end?
Will this happen again?
Can it get any worse?
But I know one thing
I got more than I should know
I got more than I should know
Homework, a test, a sister, a brother, my parents, and all my teachers.