I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up!
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To be excited that Sophie Kinsella has a new book coming out on Valentine’s Day.
To have gotten a paper on Kindergarten Round Up and thought, “Holy crap. Next year both kids will be in school full time!” That’ll be weird.
To want to see that new show Smash.
To have had to ask on Facebook what smh meant. A lot of people would write it and I’d be like, “What?” And I follow Michael Phelps on Twitter, and he used it, and I thought, “Is it some bizarre swimming term?” No. It turns out it means shake my head. Oh.
To think there are way too many award shows for celebrities. There should be the Emmys and the Oscars. That’s it. None of this People’s Choice/SAG/Golden Globe crap.
To be glad that the neighbor’s plant that I’m watching is still alive.
To really want to go back to NYC. Soon.
To have cried over the latest episode of Downton Abbey. Don’t worry, I won’t say why. But really, if you haven’t seen the show yet, you should! The first season is on Netflix!
To be worried that my blog button on my sidebar is now showing a black box with an exclaimation point. Can someone help? I paid someone to make it and I'm assuming their Photobucket account was closed or something...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Math Is Confusing
It was like a completely different language.
Is ¼ of 12 greater than ¼ of 8?
Say WHAT?
I felt like Ozzy Osbourne had just rambled off a response to me and I was left going, “Er?”
I felt just like I did after watching Lost.
Completely and utterly baffled.
“So,” I said, pretending like I knew exactly what I was doing. I mean, it was fourth grade math. FOURTH GRADE. I shouldn’t be having issues with fourth grade stuff. “So ¼ of 12 is…um…what is it, Tommy? Greater than ¼ of 8?”
Tommy frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Aren’t kids with Aspergers supposed to be math geniuses?” I asked, throwing my hands in the air.
Tommy shook his head. “I’m a science genius. Sorry. I hate math.”
Well, ME TOO! He was supposed to be a math whiz and then I could sit back and go, “Oh man, I don’t know where he gets it, I’m awful at math but at least it means we don’t have to shell out money for a tutor. Ha ha.”
It turns out we WILL most likely have to shell out money for a tutor because if I was already lost with fourth grade stuff, I will be completely at a loss for anything beyond.
Tom isn’t much help either.
So I guess it’s no surprise that Tommy is not a math savant.
“What are we going to do?” Tommy wondered. “I have to turn this in tomorrow. Aren’t you an adult? Shouldn’t you know this?”
Er. Well. Probably.
“Aren’t you the kid? Shouldn’t you have learned this today?” I retorted. It had been YEARS since I discussed this kind of math. I won’t say how many or else I’ll cry.
“I learned it but I still don’t understand,” Tommy grumbled.
I chewed my lower lip and grabbed my phone. “I know. I’ll ask people on Facebook.”
So I did.
And I had a response within minutes.
(Thank you again to those who answered!)
The answer, by the way, is yes because ¼ of 12 is 3 and ¼ of 8 is 2.
“Ahh, the power of Facebook,” I said as I explained the answer to Tommy so he’d understand how to do it in the future.
“When can I get on Facebook?” Tommy wanted to know.
“13. Those are the Facebook rules. If you get one before that, you go to jail. Sorry. What can I say, that Mark Zuckerberg is a hard ass and, by the way, he needs to get rid of that annoying timeline.”
Tommy scowled. “But a lot of my friends have one and they aren’t in jail.”
“The police haven’t figured it out yet,” I lied. Clearly, no one goes to jail for violating rules. I’ve seen many a child under 13 on Facebook. So long as they don’t try and follow me, I figure the parents know what they are doing. But if a parent ever chastises an adult for writing adult items on Facebook for fear that their little Suzy will be traumatized my advice will be to KEEP THEM OFF FACEBOOK!
Anyway, the plus is, if I ever have a math question I can go to Facebook because lucky for me, I have friends who are competent in math.
I’ll need all the help I can get seeing as I had to Google how to do long division the other day and for the life of me, I don’t recall what in the world happens with fractions.
Hi, I’m Amber, and I don’t understand basic mathematics.
Is ¼ of 12 greater than ¼ of 8?
Say WHAT?
I felt like Ozzy Osbourne had just rambled off a response to me and I was left going, “Er?”
I felt just like I did after watching Lost.
Completely and utterly baffled.
“So,” I said, pretending like I knew exactly what I was doing. I mean, it was fourth grade math. FOURTH GRADE. I shouldn’t be having issues with fourth grade stuff. “So ¼ of 12 is…um…what is it, Tommy? Greater than ¼ of 8?”
Tommy frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Aren’t kids with Aspergers supposed to be math geniuses?” I asked, throwing my hands in the air.
Tommy shook his head. “I’m a science genius. Sorry. I hate math.”
Well, ME TOO! He was supposed to be a math whiz and then I could sit back and go, “Oh man, I don’t know where he gets it, I’m awful at math but at least it means we don’t have to shell out money for a tutor. Ha ha.”
It turns out we WILL most likely have to shell out money for a tutor because if I was already lost with fourth grade stuff, I will be completely at a loss for anything beyond.
Tom isn’t much help either.
So I guess it’s no surprise that Tommy is not a math savant.
“What are we going to do?” Tommy wondered. “I have to turn this in tomorrow. Aren’t you an adult? Shouldn’t you know this?”
Er. Well. Probably.
“Aren’t you the kid? Shouldn’t you have learned this today?” I retorted. It had been YEARS since I discussed this kind of math. I won’t say how many or else I’ll cry.
“I learned it but I still don’t understand,” Tommy grumbled.
I chewed my lower lip and grabbed my phone. “I know. I’ll ask people on Facebook.”
So I did.
And I had a response within minutes.
(Thank you again to those who answered!)
The answer, by the way, is yes because ¼ of 12 is 3 and ¼ of 8 is 2.
“Ahh, the power of Facebook,” I said as I explained the answer to Tommy so he’d understand how to do it in the future.
“When can I get on Facebook?” Tommy wanted to know.
“13. Those are the Facebook rules. If you get one before that, you go to jail. Sorry. What can I say, that Mark Zuckerberg is a hard ass and, by the way, he needs to get rid of that annoying timeline.”
Tommy scowled. “But a lot of my friends have one and they aren’t in jail.”
“The police haven’t figured it out yet,” I lied. Clearly, no one goes to jail for violating rules. I’ve seen many a child under 13 on Facebook. So long as they don’t try and follow me, I figure the parents know what they are doing. But if a parent ever chastises an adult for writing adult items on Facebook for fear that their little Suzy will be traumatized my advice will be to KEEP THEM OFF FACEBOOK!
Anyway, the plus is, if I ever have a math question I can go to Facebook because lucky for me, I have friends who are competent in math.
I’ll need all the help I can get seeing as I had to Google how to do long division the other day and for the life of me, I don’t recall what in the world happens with fractions.
Hi, I’m Amber, and I don’t understand basic mathematics.
Friday, January 27, 2012
I Don't Kill ALL Plants...
There was a knock on the door and I thought, “Hooray, my Gymboree package!”
Tom was like, “Gymboree? The kids have enough clothes.”
I said, “Not a spring and summer wardrobe. What you see in their closets is for the winter.” Which, okay, was sort of a lie. But Gymboree had Gymbuck redemption and I had Gymbucks and I wasn’t about to let them go to waste. That’s like a clothing sin or something.
Anyway.
I opened the front door expecting to see the UPS man in his poo-colored uniform. (Seriously. They should change the UPS color to something more attractive. Like blue.)
Instead I found my neighbor standing there.
“I need a big favor,” she began and at first I thought, “Great. She wants me to watch her kid.”
I don’t mind watching people’s children. It’s just…well, actually I do mind. I’m not a fan of doing it when they are little. If they are past the age of 7, they can generally entertain themselves. Below that and they wreck havoc on my home.
“I’m going to visit my sister and I need someone to take care of my plant,” my neighbor continued. “You would just have to water it once a day. Can I drop it off Thursday?”
This is the point where I should have been like, “Lady, I kill plants. I swear they shrink away from me when they see me approaching.”
Instead I went, “Sure!”
Because I like to please people. (Which is usually why I wind up agreeing to watch kids under the age of 7.)
After she left, Tom kept tossing me a Look.
“What?” I asked. “I can take care of a plant.”
Tom, who knows all about my black thumb, looked wary.
“I can take care of a PLANT,” I insisted.
“Well,” Tom began, wondering how to approach this without getting yelled at. “You killed the Chia pet.”
Okay, that wasn’t my fault. I assumed all I had to do was slather on the seeds, water it, and it would sprout out magically like on television.
Who knew that it needed to be watered daily?
“That was an accident,” I explained.
“And,” Tom continued. “There was the plant in the singing holder that died. Even though it would start to sing when it needed water.”
Oh.
I MIGHT have turned off the planter when it kept startling me with the music. I SHOULD have just watered the thing but one of the kids would act up and distract me. Thus, a deceased plant.
“I’ll remember,” I vowed.
“Basically all the plants in our yard died,” Tom prattled on.
“They were sick to begin with!”
“Please don’t kill this woman’s plant. If she really loves the thing and it dies, it’s going to be awkward,” Tom said.
“It’s not going to die! I’ll plug a reminder in my phone to water it. Okay? It’ll be okay!”
Or…people who follow me on Facebook or Twitter, give me a daily “water the plant!” comment.
I can do this.
No problem.
Right?
Please don't die!
Tom was like, “Gymboree? The kids have enough clothes.”
I said, “Not a spring and summer wardrobe. What you see in their closets is for the winter.” Which, okay, was sort of a lie. But Gymboree had Gymbuck redemption and I had Gymbucks and I wasn’t about to let them go to waste. That’s like a clothing sin or something.
Anyway.
I opened the front door expecting to see the UPS man in his poo-colored uniform. (Seriously. They should change the UPS color to something more attractive. Like blue.)
Instead I found my neighbor standing there.
“I need a big favor,” she began and at first I thought, “Great. She wants me to watch her kid.”
I don’t mind watching people’s children. It’s just…well, actually I do mind. I’m not a fan of doing it when they are little. If they are past the age of 7, they can generally entertain themselves. Below that and they wreck havoc on my home.
“I’m going to visit my sister and I need someone to take care of my plant,” my neighbor continued. “You would just have to water it once a day. Can I drop it off Thursday?”
This is the point where I should have been like, “Lady, I kill plants. I swear they shrink away from me when they see me approaching.”
Instead I went, “Sure!”
Because I like to please people. (Which is usually why I wind up agreeing to watch kids under the age of 7.)
After she left, Tom kept tossing me a Look.
“What?” I asked. “I can take care of a plant.”
Tom, who knows all about my black thumb, looked wary.
“I can take care of a PLANT,” I insisted.
“Well,” Tom began, wondering how to approach this without getting yelled at. “You killed the Chia pet.”
Okay, that wasn’t my fault. I assumed all I had to do was slather on the seeds, water it, and it would sprout out magically like on television.
Who knew that it needed to be watered daily?
“That was an accident,” I explained.
“And,” Tom continued. “There was the plant in the singing holder that died. Even though it would start to sing when it needed water.”
Oh.
I MIGHT have turned off the planter when it kept startling me with the music. I SHOULD have just watered the thing but one of the kids would act up and distract me. Thus, a deceased plant.
“I’ll remember,” I vowed.
“Basically all the plants in our yard died,” Tom prattled on.
“They were sick to begin with!”
“Please don’t kill this woman’s plant. If she really loves the thing and it dies, it’s going to be awkward,” Tom said.
“It’s not going to die! I’ll plug a reminder in my phone to water it. Okay? It’ll be okay!”
Or…people who follow me on Facebook or Twitter, give me a daily “water the plant!” comment.
I can do this.
No problem.
Right?
Please don't die!
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Things That Annoy Me Thursday: Tiny Fries
Since it’s the new year I decided to try something different.
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
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Okay, so I get that there is an issue with childhood obesity.
Jamie Oliver comes over from the UK and is like, “Oooo look at all these processed foods!”
And Michelle Obama is like, “Blah, blah, blah, unhealthy school lunches, blah, blah, blah.”
But.
When I ordered my kid’s a Happy Meal, I was shocked at these tiny fries.
They were, too.
I mean?
There were like TEN fries in that tiny box.
Yes, there are apple slices too but NO caramel dipping sauce.
I blame the parents who complain about junk food. And Michelle Obama. Don’t punish everyone! My kids don’t get fast food all the time but when they do, they’d like a full helping of fries with their meal. Not Ewok sized.
If the new Happy Meals must remain, let it be an option to purchase the normal ones. You know, the ones that come with a proper amount of fries so I don’t have to share mine.
If people are still complaining, oh well. The folks who can’t keep their traps shut should avoid fast food places. Don’t ruin it for the rest of us. Stick to your kale chips and celery slices.
Don’t mess with our fries.
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
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Okay, so I get that there is an issue with childhood obesity.
Jamie Oliver comes over from the UK and is like, “Oooo look at all these processed foods!”
And Michelle Obama is like, “Blah, blah, blah, unhealthy school lunches, blah, blah, blah.”
But.
When I ordered my kid’s a Happy Meal, I was shocked at these tiny fries.
They were, too.
I mean?
There were like TEN fries in that tiny box.
Yes, there are apple slices too but NO caramel dipping sauce.
I blame the parents who complain about junk food. And Michelle Obama. Don’t punish everyone! My kids don’t get fast food all the time but when they do, they’d like a full helping of fries with their meal. Not Ewok sized.
If the new Happy Meals must remain, let it be an option to purchase the normal ones. You know, the ones that come with a proper amount of fries so I don’t have to share mine.
If people are still complaining, oh well. The folks who can’t keep their traps shut should avoid fast food places. Don’t ruin it for the rest of us. Stick to your kale chips and celery slices.
Don’t mess with our fries.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
100 Days of School
Happy 100 Days of School!
Confused?
Me too.
Well, not really. Tommy has been in school for awhile so I know there are usually activities for the 100th day of school. Which is nice, I guess, until the teacher wants their students to make something for it.
Natalie came home with instructions from her teacher to come up with 100 items. Stapled to it was a cardboard rectangle to put the said items on. She said we could be creative and if need be, use poster board for extra space.
I was like, what? Are there people who are really going all out for this? I’m not going all out for this. I’ll just have Natalie draw 100 circles. Or 100 Na's.
You know that the crafty mothers are all, “Oooo….I’ll do 10 feathers, 10 buttons, 10 sewn tiny scarves, 10 sequins..” and then post the thing on Pinterest.
I am not crafty.
I am in awe of crafty people.
I WISH I were crafty so I didn’t have to BUY the crafty things from crafty stores like Hobby Lobby.
“What should we do, Natalie?” I asked.
“100 princesses!” Natalie said.
That would mean we’d either have to A) draw 100 princesses, and I can’t draw a stick person to save my life. Natalie would get tired after princess 8 and be all, “I’m done.” Or we could B) print out 100 princesses and glue them but that would waste my printer ink, which is not cheap, and I wasn’t in the mood to cut out and paste 100 princesses anyway.
“How about we get those conversation hearts that taste like flavored chalk and glue them on?” I suggested. I mean, Valentine’s Day is approaching. We could be festive. Sort of.
Natalie agreed so we bought some hearts and started gluing. Well, I did most of the gluing if I’m being perfectly honest. Natalie kept eating the project. And then she’d go glue happy and I’d be like, “You know what? How about you hang out in the corner? Mommy will finish this.”
Here’s the finished product:
Nice huh?
And Natalie added her name to the bottom (yes, the entire name, not just Na!) and insisted on glitter. She went glitter happy and now the living room floor looks as though Tinkerbell exploded on it.
I imagine there will be kids with elaborate projects. I mean, the paper even said they could use a POSTER BOARD if they wanted to. (!) I have a feeling someone is going to walk in with 100 little 3D art things or 100 quotes on why children are the future of the world (puke.)
Mark my word.
It’ll happen.
Some parents are nuts.
Confused?
Me too.
Well, not really. Tommy has been in school for awhile so I know there are usually activities for the 100th day of school. Which is nice, I guess, until the teacher wants their students to make something for it.
Natalie came home with instructions from her teacher to come up with 100 items. Stapled to it was a cardboard rectangle to put the said items on. She said we could be creative and if need be, use poster board for extra space.
I was like, what? Are there people who are really going all out for this? I’m not going all out for this. I’ll just have Natalie draw 100 circles. Or 100 Na's.
You know that the crafty mothers are all, “Oooo….I’ll do 10 feathers, 10 buttons, 10 sewn tiny scarves, 10 sequins..” and then post the thing on Pinterest.
I am not crafty.
I am in awe of crafty people.
I WISH I were crafty so I didn’t have to BUY the crafty things from crafty stores like Hobby Lobby.
“What should we do, Natalie?” I asked.
“100 princesses!” Natalie said.
That would mean we’d either have to A) draw 100 princesses, and I can’t draw a stick person to save my life. Natalie would get tired after princess 8 and be all, “I’m done.” Or we could B) print out 100 princesses and glue them but that would waste my printer ink, which is not cheap, and I wasn’t in the mood to cut out and paste 100 princesses anyway.
“How about we get those conversation hearts that taste like flavored chalk and glue them on?” I suggested. I mean, Valentine’s Day is approaching. We could be festive. Sort of.
Natalie agreed so we bought some hearts and started gluing. Well, I did most of the gluing if I’m being perfectly honest. Natalie kept eating the project. And then she’d go glue happy and I’d be like, “You know what? How about you hang out in the corner? Mommy will finish this.”
Here’s the finished product:
Nice huh?
And Natalie added her name to the bottom (yes, the entire name, not just Na!) and insisted on glitter. She went glitter happy and now the living room floor looks as though Tinkerbell exploded on it.
I imagine there will be kids with elaborate projects. I mean, the paper even said they could use a POSTER BOARD if they wanted to. (!) I have a feeling someone is going to walk in with 100 little 3D art things or 100 quotes on why children are the future of the world (puke.)
Mark my word.
It’ll happen.
Some parents are nuts.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up!
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To be sad that Etta James passed away. She’s the one who sang “At last.”
To be a little shocked that Seal and Heidi Klum are divorcing.
To love the Austin Powers movies. Tom and I watched them over the weekend. We love Will Ferrell’s character. “I’m not dead, but I’m very badly burned…”
To be glad that Natalie didn’t cry when she got the staples removed from her head yesterday. She did keep saying, “Do I get Reeses Puffs after this?” The doctor thought it was a special treat for getting the staples removed but nope, we have cereals like that in the house all the time.
To only know who is playing at the Super Bowl because of Facebook.
To want to be on an episode of Ghost Adventures. It would be amusing. I’d start off being all brave: “I gave birth to two kids so I can definitely handle a ghost!” And then if a ghost started to manifest I’d be like, “I’m scared. Hold me, Zak Bagans so long as you don’t try to grow another goatee. It doesn’t work for you.”
To love Gymboree but hate how slow the shipping is. I know I can pay for faster shipping but I don’t wanna.
To have already filed our taxes. This excites me because we do get a refund back. Granted, most of the refund goes towards bills, but still..
To need to list some of the kid’s clothes from last year on eBay. I’ll post the link when I do. I think I’ll have mostly 8s in the boy size and 2 and 3T for the girl with others mixed in.
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To be sad that Etta James passed away. She’s the one who sang “At last.”
To be a little shocked that Seal and Heidi Klum are divorcing.
To love the Austin Powers movies. Tom and I watched them over the weekend. We love Will Ferrell’s character. “I’m not dead, but I’m very badly burned…”
To be glad that Natalie didn’t cry when she got the staples removed from her head yesterday. She did keep saying, “Do I get Reeses Puffs after this?” The doctor thought it was a special treat for getting the staples removed but nope, we have cereals like that in the house all the time.
To only know who is playing at the Super Bowl because of Facebook.
To want to be on an episode of Ghost Adventures. It would be amusing. I’d start off being all brave: “I gave birth to two kids so I can definitely handle a ghost!” And then if a ghost started to manifest I’d be like, “I’m scared. Hold me, Zak Bagans so long as you don’t try to grow another goatee. It doesn’t work for you.”
To love Gymboree but hate how slow the shipping is. I know I can pay for faster shipping but I don’t wanna.
To have already filed our taxes. This excites me because we do get a refund back. Granted, most of the refund goes towards bills, but still..
To need to list some of the kid’s clothes from last year on eBay. I’ll post the link when I do. I think I’ll have mostly 8s in the boy size and 2 and 3T for the girl with others mixed in.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Growing Up Is Rude!
“Hi Tommy! Hi! It’s us! It’s Natalie and Mommy! Hello?” Natalie called out. Then she frowned and looked at me. “Why won’t he say hi? It’s rude.”
“I think it’s because we’re in his school and he’s embarrassed,” I explained. We were there for his awards assembly and his class had just filtered in. His eyes had flicked briefly to us—probably to ensure that we had arrived—and then he refused to acknowledge our existence.
“Tommy!” Natalie tried again, to no avail.
I had already embarrassed Tommy earlier when I had driven him to school. I dared to give him a kiss and he had yelled, “Mom! This is public!” when I pressed my lips to his cheek.
Well, excuse me! I only gave him life. I should be able to kiss him whenever I feel like it.
And I should be acknowledged when I show up for the boring award assemblies. It’s entertaining when your kid’s name is called but after that it’s like, lalala, this stinks, man, a lot of other people’s children look weird.
“Tommy is so rude,” Natalie muttered. Rude is her latest word. I’m rude for not letting her watch Yo Gabba Gabba whenever she wants. Tommy is rude for not saying hello. Tom is rude for going to work instead of hanging out with her. Basically, everyone is rude. (“Rude!” Natalie had bellowed when a car had cut in front of us (with no turn signal.) I agreed with her there.)(And yes, I tried to get her to say HOW Rude, like Stephanie Tanner on Full House, but she won't do it.)
I took a picture of the back of Tommy’s head since he wouldn’t turn around:
He ended up getting two awards: one for the Honor Roll and another for bringing his grade up from a B to an A in reading. He works incredibly hard since some things don’t come as easily to him. He struggles with reading and writing and I’m proud that he puts forth the effort to improve himself even though sometimes he yells, “I’m so tired of school!”
After the awards were passed out, the kids could come over and take a picture with their parents. I’m surprised Tommy approached us. At first it looked like he wasn’t but I kept going, “Tommy? Tommy? Tommy? Tommy?” just like he used to go, “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?” when he was younger. He probably wanted me to shut up.
Yup, that’s a random little boy. Natalie decided to adopt him a la Angelina Jolie. Well, she wishes. She started playing with the kid halfway through the assembly and he didn’t want to leave her.
“Why did mostly all girls get the Principal’s award?” Tommy wondered, naming the award people got for all As.
“They studied hard. Instead of playing video games, they studied,” I added pointedly. Tommy sometimes becomes engrossed in his Nintendo DS. Or making paper airplanes or Origami.
“Are girls smarter than boys?” Tommy wondered.
“Yes.”
No, I didn’t say that. I WANTED TO, you have no idea HOW BADLY. But instead I went, “No, it’s just girls mature faster than boys. But you saw a couple of other boys get the award. It means they studied and focused on their work. I never got straight As. I tried, but math always got me. Stupid math…”
Tommy sighed. “Yeah. Math gets me too. I hate long division. Who cares about remainders?”
“I’m saying! Who does care about remainders?” I agreed. A teacher walked by and gave me a disapproving look. “I mean…remainders are important. Make sure you pay close attention in math and you’ll get it.” I leaned over and gave Tommy a kiss. He gave me a Look.
“I have to go back to my class,” Tommy said. “You can give me a quick hug but not another kiss.”
So I did that and watched my boy get in line.
How did he get so big? Wasn’t he just 3 yesterday?
Growing up is so rude!
“I think it’s because we’re in his school and he’s embarrassed,” I explained. We were there for his awards assembly and his class had just filtered in. His eyes had flicked briefly to us—probably to ensure that we had arrived—and then he refused to acknowledge our existence.
“Tommy!” Natalie tried again, to no avail.
I had already embarrassed Tommy earlier when I had driven him to school. I dared to give him a kiss and he had yelled, “Mom! This is public!” when I pressed my lips to his cheek.
Well, excuse me! I only gave him life. I should be able to kiss him whenever I feel like it.
And I should be acknowledged when I show up for the boring award assemblies. It’s entertaining when your kid’s name is called but after that it’s like, lalala, this stinks, man, a lot of other people’s children look weird.
“Tommy is so rude,” Natalie muttered. Rude is her latest word. I’m rude for not letting her watch Yo Gabba Gabba whenever she wants. Tommy is rude for not saying hello. Tom is rude for going to work instead of hanging out with her. Basically, everyone is rude. (“Rude!” Natalie had bellowed when a car had cut in front of us (with no turn signal.) I agreed with her there.)(And yes, I tried to get her to say HOW Rude, like Stephanie Tanner on Full House, but she won't do it.)
I took a picture of the back of Tommy’s head since he wouldn’t turn around:
He ended up getting two awards: one for the Honor Roll and another for bringing his grade up from a B to an A in reading. He works incredibly hard since some things don’t come as easily to him. He struggles with reading and writing and I’m proud that he puts forth the effort to improve himself even though sometimes he yells, “I’m so tired of school!”
After the awards were passed out, the kids could come over and take a picture with their parents. I’m surprised Tommy approached us. At first it looked like he wasn’t but I kept going, “Tommy? Tommy? Tommy? Tommy?” just like he used to go, “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?” when he was younger. He probably wanted me to shut up.
Yup, that’s a random little boy. Natalie decided to adopt him a la Angelina Jolie. Well, she wishes. She started playing with the kid halfway through the assembly and he didn’t want to leave her.
“Why did mostly all girls get the Principal’s award?” Tommy wondered, naming the award people got for all As.
“They studied hard. Instead of playing video games, they studied,” I added pointedly. Tommy sometimes becomes engrossed in his Nintendo DS. Or making paper airplanes or Origami.
“Are girls smarter than boys?” Tommy wondered.
“Yes.”
No, I didn’t say that. I WANTED TO, you have no idea HOW BADLY. But instead I went, “No, it’s just girls mature faster than boys. But you saw a couple of other boys get the award. It means they studied and focused on their work. I never got straight As. I tried, but math always got me. Stupid math…”
Tommy sighed. “Yeah. Math gets me too. I hate long division. Who cares about remainders?”
“I’m saying! Who does care about remainders?” I agreed. A teacher walked by and gave me a disapproving look. “I mean…remainders are important. Make sure you pay close attention in math and you’ll get it.” I leaned over and gave Tommy a kiss. He gave me a Look.
“I have to go back to my class,” Tommy said. “You can give me a quick hug but not another kiss.”
So I did that and watched my boy get in line.
How did he get so big? Wasn’t he just 3 yesterday?
Growing up is so rude!
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Child Named Na Part 2
“Hey Na, you need to start spelling your whole name,” I said to Natalie, who immediately looked affronted.
“My name is Natalie,” she answered primly.
“Then,” I said, holding up a paper that she did at school, “write that out. Don’t just write NA and stop.”
Remember awhile back when I wrote about how Natalie was signing her name Na? Well. She still is. Her teacher is working on trying to get her to write her entire name.
It’s not going well.
And before she didn’t mind being referred to as Na. Now she’s greatly insulted.
“When you get to Kindergarten, you’ll have to write your entire name,” I explained to Natalie. “So let’s practice.”
Natalie sighed. “But I was about to play Princess!”
“You can play after,” I promised. “Let’s practice your name.”
“I can’t! I have a hole in my head!” Natalie protested. Yeah. She’s really been milking that one.
“Let’s practice spelling it once,” I said, handing her a pencil. “Then you can play.”
Natalie scowled. “Fi-neee.” She dragged out the word as she took the pencil. She bent over the paper and wrote the familiar N and A.
“Continue, Na,” I pressed.
“I AM NOT NA!”
“Then finish your name, Naomi Campbell. Geez. Thank goodness we didn’t have a phone near us or I imagine I’d have been hit in the head with it.”
Natalie bit her lower lip, ignoring my quip. “T,” she said, and wrote the letter down. “A…I…E.”
“You forgot a letter.”
“I have a hole in my head.”
“Natalie,” I said, in a warning tone.
“But I’m a woman,” Natalie pointed out. Yeah, I know. Weird. She’s been saying that lately. I think she got it from A Mermaid Tale. It’s some Barbie movie and I think Barbie talks about becoming a woman or something. So now Natalie randomly says she’s a woman. I’m used to it, which is why I didn’t even react and instructed her to continue with her name.
“I don’t like the letter L today.” Natalie tried a different tactic.
“So your name is Nataie. Sounds like a name a celebrity would give their kid.”
“My name is Natalie.” She wrote in the letter L. “There!”
I thought, hey, now she’ll write her full name.
Then she came home yesterday with this.
(Well, there WOULD be a picture but it's on my phone and my phone IS NOT TURNING ON! So basically just picture a paper with NA written across it..)
So I still have a daughter named Na.
“My name is Natalie,” she answered primly.
“Then,” I said, holding up a paper that she did at school, “write that out. Don’t just write NA and stop.”
Remember awhile back when I wrote about how Natalie was signing her name Na? Well. She still is. Her teacher is working on trying to get her to write her entire name.
It’s not going well.
And before she didn’t mind being referred to as Na. Now she’s greatly insulted.
“When you get to Kindergarten, you’ll have to write your entire name,” I explained to Natalie. “So let’s practice.”
Natalie sighed. “But I was about to play Princess!”
“You can play after,” I promised. “Let’s practice your name.”
“I can’t! I have a hole in my head!” Natalie protested. Yeah. She’s really been milking that one.
“Let’s practice spelling it once,” I said, handing her a pencil. “Then you can play.”
Natalie scowled. “Fi-neee.” She dragged out the word as she took the pencil. She bent over the paper and wrote the familiar N and A.
“Continue, Na,” I pressed.
“I AM NOT NA!”
“Then finish your name, Naomi Campbell. Geez. Thank goodness we didn’t have a phone near us or I imagine I’d have been hit in the head with it.”
Natalie bit her lower lip, ignoring my quip. “T,” she said, and wrote the letter down. “A…I…E.”
“You forgot a letter.”
“I have a hole in my head.”
“Natalie,” I said, in a warning tone.
“But I’m a woman,” Natalie pointed out. Yeah, I know. Weird. She’s been saying that lately. I think she got it from A Mermaid Tale. It’s some Barbie movie and I think Barbie talks about becoming a woman or something. So now Natalie randomly says she’s a woman. I’m used to it, which is why I didn’t even react and instructed her to continue with her name.
“I don’t like the letter L today.” Natalie tried a different tactic.
“So your name is Nataie. Sounds like a name a celebrity would give their kid.”
“My name is Natalie.” She wrote in the letter L. “There!”
I thought, hey, now she’ll write her full name.
Then she came home yesterday with this.
(Well, there WOULD be a picture but it's on my phone and my phone IS NOT TURNING ON! So basically just picture a paper with NA written across it..)
So I still have a daughter named Na.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Things That Annoy Me Thursday: GPSes
Since it’s the new year I decided to try something different.
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
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In a quarter mile turn right...
Wait.
What’s a quarter mile?
Is it this turn?
Or the next one?
Maybe I should have paid more attention in math class. Only I don’t recall going over what a quarter mile was.
Okay. I’ll turn here. This has to be a quarter mile..
Recalculating.. (in a snotty gosh-what-a-moron voice)
Great. I’ve just been chastised by my GPS.
But seriously? What IS a quarter mile?
Why does my GPS love to confuse me?
And why did it start speaking German all of a sudden that one time?
It started off in English and then switched to a language that I didn’t comprehend.
And it told me off in German, too.
*Insert German word for recalculating here*
I’m tired of being told off by electronics!
What the GPS SHOULD say if I make a wrong turn is, “I apologize for baffling you, but you’ve made a wrong turn.” But no. Instead it’s all, “RECALCULATING.”
Why do I even bother?
Oh, that’s right, because I can’t read a map.
Tom can attest to this. Before we had a GPS we used maps and I had to figure out where we were going while Tom drove.
This did not go well.
Tom would ask where we needed to turn. I’d stare at the map in confusion.
“Well? Where do we turn?” Tom would ask.
“Um…” I felt like I did when my scary French teacher would scream at me in French to answer her question in French which I did not understand because I never COMPREHENDED French!
“Do I turn here?”
I twisted the map around as though that would help me find the answer. It didn’t.
Needless to say Tom would usually miss his turn and I’d wind up in tears.
I figured the GPS would solve everything.
Nope.
Neither of us knows what a quarter mile is.
Neither of us speaks German.
And once when we were trying to find a Golden Corral, the GPS led us to an apartment complex that I swear was depicted on Cops before.
So yes.
Today I write about mean GPSes.
Will I stop using one?
No.
Will I ever learn what a quarter mile is?
Probably not.
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
---------
In a quarter mile turn right...
Wait.
What’s a quarter mile?
Is it this turn?
Or the next one?
Maybe I should have paid more attention in math class. Only I don’t recall going over what a quarter mile was.
Okay. I’ll turn here. This has to be a quarter mile..
Recalculating.. (in a snotty gosh-what-a-moron voice)
Great. I’ve just been chastised by my GPS.
But seriously? What IS a quarter mile?
Why does my GPS love to confuse me?
And why did it start speaking German all of a sudden that one time?
It started off in English and then switched to a language that I didn’t comprehend.
And it told me off in German, too.
*Insert German word for recalculating here*
I’m tired of being told off by electronics!
What the GPS SHOULD say if I make a wrong turn is, “I apologize for baffling you, but you’ve made a wrong turn.” But no. Instead it’s all, “RECALCULATING.”
Why do I even bother?
Oh, that’s right, because I can’t read a map.
Tom can attest to this. Before we had a GPS we used maps and I had to figure out where we were going while Tom drove.
This did not go well.
Tom would ask where we needed to turn. I’d stare at the map in confusion.
“Well? Where do we turn?” Tom would ask.
“Um…” I felt like I did when my scary French teacher would scream at me in French to answer her question in French which I did not understand because I never COMPREHENDED French!
“Do I turn here?”
I twisted the map around as though that would help me find the answer. It didn’t.
Needless to say Tom would usually miss his turn and I’d wind up in tears.
I figured the GPS would solve everything.
Nope.
Neither of us knows what a quarter mile is.
Neither of us speaks German.
And once when we were trying to find a Golden Corral, the GPS led us to an apartment complex that I swear was depicted on Cops before.
So yes.
Today I write about mean GPSes.
Will I stop using one?
No.
Will I ever learn what a quarter mile is?
Probably not.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
A Hole In Her Head
I heard the thump, followed by the cry.
I didn’t panic because the kids had been running around upstairs for the past hour—even though they both were supposed to be in bed. Naturally they weren’t taking me as seriously since Tom was at work.
“What happened?” I asked as Natalie wailed upstairs.
I figured she fell. She can be extra dramatic about things. Once she bumped her foot and freaked out about it, claiming she needed a band-aid even though you could barely see anything wrong.
I got upstairs and Natalie was on her back, screaming.
That’s when I saw the blood streaming down her face.
“Oh my GOD!” I wailed. As most of my readers know, I can be incredibly dramatic which is no wonder why Natalie wants a band-aid for every tiny bump. I rushed over to Natalie and that’s when I saw it…a HOLE in her head.
I’m not being dramatic either.
There was a HOLE in my daughter’s HEAD.
“Oh my GOD!” I screamed again. I scooped her up and rushed her downstairs. I placed her on the couch. “Stay with me! Don’t pass out STAY WITH ME!”
At this point Natalie stopped crying and was staring at me in confusion. It was probably because I was racing around the room in a panic. I didn’t know quite what to do. The bleeding seemed to stop but there was still A HOLE IN MY KID’S HEAD. I dialed Tom’s number and the second he picked up I went, “TOM! Natalie fell down and there is a HOLE in her HEAD!”
“What?” Tom answered. He’s used to my dramatics. He most likely assumed she simply had a scrape.
“The kids were playing, I heard a thump, and there is a HOLE IN NATALIE’S HEAD! I’m calling 911!”
“Okay—”
I hung up on Tom and dialed 911.
It was my first time ever calling 911.
I think I told the operator that my daughter had a hole in her head. “She’s conscious,” I added because I knew they’d ask since I watch Grey’s Anatomy. I was told an ambulance would be there shortly and had to stay on the line. I kept asking Natalie if she was okay and she kept saying, “Yes.”
I was worried her eyes would roll to the back of her head at any second.
I mean…HOLE IN THE HEAD.
I heard the wail of sirens in the background and a few minutes later I had an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car in front of my house. I’m sure my neighbors were like, “WTF? Did she finally burn the place down?” because most know I’m not the best cook. (Or they thought, "Look, I know Ricky Gervais wasn't as funny at the Golden Globes this year but complaining to 911 is a bit extreme..")
Anyway, I got off the phone and all these men filtered into my house. Natalie was standing at this point, baffled on what was going on.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy called out.
“I HOPE NOT!” I yelped and then peered at my daughter’s head. COULD you see her brains? Then I flashed back to a scene in Grey’s Anatomy where they were talking about BRAIN MATTER when they were dealing with a head injury and started panicking all over again.
Natalie was surrounded by the men, who began to ask her different questions. I think this was to make sure that I didn’t hurt her. I imagine they deal with abuse cases so they want to get to the kid and make sure they don’t look suspicious or anything like that. I totally understand.
Tommy did not understand.
When Natalie was asked questions he kept saying, “I’m Tommy. Hello? I’m feeling okay, thank you. I don’t have a hole in my head. My sister kept running around and I told her to stop and she wouldn’t. I’m doing. I’m DOING OKAY!”
Poor kid.
It could have been because of his Aspergers—he doesn’t get social situations and at that moment he probably just saw everyone was focused on Natalie and didn’t comprehend why no one was acknowledging him.
Natalie hit her head on the corner of the wall apparently. She took one of the men upstairs and pointed out where she had knocked it.
It turns out that even though she had a hole in her head that it wasn’t life threatening because she didn’t black out. The ambulance could have taken her but I didn’t want to take their time if a real emergency came up—so I said I’d drive her to the hospital myself. I was told she was definitely going to need stitches or staples.
“Can you see her brains though?” Tommy kept asking.
I was still crying and when Tom came in I started crying harder wailing about how our daughter had a hole in her head and that it was all my fault.
Natalie, it should be pointed out, has been to the ER 2 times prior to this. Once for a cyst in her leg that got a horrible infection so we had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Another for a disgusting cut in her side that needed glue to close. And now this. Tommy has never gone through anything like that so she’s definitely been keeping me on my toes.
So off to the ER we went, and one would think that not many people would be there on a Sunday night.
Wrong.
The waiting room was FULL. Apparently people in Oklahoma get hurt a lot.
I looked terrible as we sat. I had been in my pajamas when Natalie was hurt and was quickly able to throw some jeans on—but I still had my pink pajama top on. No bra. Hair a mess. Snot coming down my nose because I couldn’t stop crying. Red face. Tears dripping all over the place. Natalie’s blood streaked across my cheek.
Basically I looked like Lindsay Lohan on a Friday night.
(Ba-dum-bah!)
At least I didn't look like this:
Photo Credit
We were called back to get Natalie’s vitals and I was asked what happened.
“The kids…were playing upstairs…and I heard…I heard…a THUMP,” I sniffled. I couldn’t stop crying for the first hour. I think it was the shock of seeing a hole in my daughter’s head.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy asked again.
At this point I wanted him to be quiet. I almost, and I hate myself for even thinking this, but I almost wanted to shout at him to knock it off and behave normally for once. Didn’t he realize his sister was HURT? Why did he have to keep asking about her brains? Thank God I didn’t because I work hard on explaining to Tommy that he IS normal; he just learns differently and there’s nothing wrong with that.
It’s hard for a kid with Aspergers to get it. To him, we were interrupting his evening. As we waited he kept saying, “How much longer? I’m bored.” He didn’t ask how Natalie was. Sometimes I want to shake him and scream, “Why don’t you CARE?” And really, he DOES care, I know he does, but he doesn’t grasp a lot of social cues. He could see I was crying, but because he loves the human body, his main focus was, “Since she has a hole in her head, can you see her brain? Or her skull?”
Tom had to go back to work since he had his dog with him. He said he’d be back and as soon as he left I burst into tears all over again. I didn’t want to be alone. There were scary people in the room. I hear horror stories about gangs around Oklahoma and there were several men waiting in there who looked like they could be apart of a gang. Suppose they pulled out a gun and started to shoot up the place?
We were still waiting when Tom returned an hour later.
I think we had to wait about two hours and for an ER, that’s not bad.
We were brought back to a room and someone came to look at her head.
“Is it really bad?” I asked. “There was so much blood.”
“Head injuries always have a lot of blood,” I was told.
I didn’t know this.
I mean, you’d think because I watch a lot of Grey’s Anatomy and ER that I would KNOW this. The episodes have a lot of blood but I assume sometimes it’s for show—you know, have more blood and the audience will appreciate it more? But no. Head injuries=lots of blood. FYI.
Natalie had to get two staples in her head.
“Is it going to hurt?” Natalie asked.
I didn’t want to lie to her so I said yes but if she were brave that she’d get a Rapunzel doll.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy called out.
“No. It’s not that deep,” the doctor said.
Natalie didn’t cry at all. I almost wanted to cry when I saw the shot they used to numb up the area in
Natalie’s head.
The most Natalie did was say, “Ouch.”
That was it.
She’s braver than I am.
When it was over she said, “Can I get my Rapunzel doll now? I was brave.”
We promised she’d have it back at home.
I am so incredibly grateful that it wasn’t worse than it was.
On the drive home from the hospital Natalie said, “An angel kept me safe.”
“What?” I asked.
“An angel kept me safe,” Natalie repeated. “When I fell.”
I smiled. Her guardian angel, maybe.
Thank goodness she has one.
I have a feeling she’s going to need extra care seeing as she’s been in the ER 3 times and she’s only 4.
Thank you, angel, for keeping my baby safe once again.
I didn’t panic because the kids had been running around upstairs for the past hour—even though they both were supposed to be in bed. Naturally they weren’t taking me as seriously since Tom was at work.
“What happened?” I asked as Natalie wailed upstairs.
I figured she fell. She can be extra dramatic about things. Once she bumped her foot and freaked out about it, claiming she needed a band-aid even though you could barely see anything wrong.
I got upstairs and Natalie was on her back, screaming.
That’s when I saw the blood streaming down her face.
“Oh my GOD!” I wailed. As most of my readers know, I can be incredibly dramatic which is no wonder why Natalie wants a band-aid for every tiny bump. I rushed over to Natalie and that’s when I saw it…a HOLE in her head.
I’m not being dramatic either.
There was a HOLE in my daughter’s HEAD.
“Oh my GOD!” I screamed again. I scooped her up and rushed her downstairs. I placed her on the couch. “Stay with me! Don’t pass out STAY WITH ME!”
At this point Natalie stopped crying and was staring at me in confusion. It was probably because I was racing around the room in a panic. I didn’t know quite what to do. The bleeding seemed to stop but there was still A HOLE IN MY KID’S HEAD. I dialed Tom’s number and the second he picked up I went, “TOM! Natalie fell down and there is a HOLE in her HEAD!”
“What?” Tom answered. He’s used to my dramatics. He most likely assumed she simply had a scrape.
“The kids were playing, I heard a thump, and there is a HOLE IN NATALIE’S HEAD! I’m calling 911!”
“Okay—”
I hung up on Tom and dialed 911.
It was my first time ever calling 911.
I think I told the operator that my daughter had a hole in her head. “She’s conscious,” I added because I knew they’d ask since I watch Grey’s Anatomy. I was told an ambulance would be there shortly and had to stay on the line. I kept asking Natalie if she was okay and she kept saying, “Yes.”
I was worried her eyes would roll to the back of her head at any second.
I mean…HOLE IN THE HEAD.
I heard the wail of sirens in the background and a few minutes later I had an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car in front of my house. I’m sure my neighbors were like, “WTF? Did she finally burn the place down?” because most know I’m not the best cook. (Or they thought, "Look, I know Ricky Gervais wasn't as funny at the Golden Globes this year but complaining to 911 is a bit extreme..")
Anyway, I got off the phone and all these men filtered into my house. Natalie was standing at this point, baffled on what was going on.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy called out.
“I HOPE NOT!” I yelped and then peered at my daughter’s head. COULD you see her brains? Then I flashed back to a scene in Grey’s Anatomy where they were talking about BRAIN MATTER when they were dealing with a head injury and started panicking all over again.
Natalie was surrounded by the men, who began to ask her different questions. I think this was to make sure that I didn’t hurt her. I imagine they deal with abuse cases so they want to get to the kid and make sure they don’t look suspicious or anything like that. I totally understand.
Tommy did not understand.
When Natalie was asked questions he kept saying, “I’m Tommy. Hello? I’m feeling okay, thank you. I don’t have a hole in my head. My sister kept running around and I told her to stop and she wouldn’t. I’m doing. I’m DOING OKAY!”
Poor kid.
It could have been because of his Aspergers—he doesn’t get social situations and at that moment he probably just saw everyone was focused on Natalie and didn’t comprehend why no one was acknowledging him.
Natalie hit her head on the corner of the wall apparently. She took one of the men upstairs and pointed out where she had knocked it.
It turns out that even though she had a hole in her head that it wasn’t life threatening because she didn’t black out. The ambulance could have taken her but I didn’t want to take their time if a real emergency came up—so I said I’d drive her to the hospital myself. I was told she was definitely going to need stitches or staples.
“Can you see her brains though?” Tommy kept asking.
I was still crying and when Tom came in I started crying harder wailing about how our daughter had a hole in her head and that it was all my fault.
Natalie, it should be pointed out, has been to the ER 2 times prior to this. Once for a cyst in her leg that got a horrible infection so we had to stay in the hospital for a few days. Another for a disgusting cut in her side that needed glue to close. And now this. Tommy has never gone through anything like that so she’s definitely been keeping me on my toes.
So off to the ER we went, and one would think that not many people would be there on a Sunday night.
Wrong.
The waiting room was FULL. Apparently people in Oklahoma get hurt a lot.
I looked terrible as we sat. I had been in my pajamas when Natalie was hurt and was quickly able to throw some jeans on—but I still had my pink pajama top on. No bra. Hair a mess. Snot coming down my nose because I couldn’t stop crying. Red face. Tears dripping all over the place. Natalie’s blood streaked across my cheek.
Basically I looked like Lindsay Lohan on a Friday night.
(Ba-dum-bah!)
At least I didn't look like this:
We were called back to get Natalie’s vitals and I was asked what happened.
“The kids…were playing upstairs…and I heard…I heard…a THUMP,” I sniffled. I couldn’t stop crying for the first hour. I think it was the shock of seeing a hole in my daughter’s head.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy asked again.
At this point I wanted him to be quiet. I almost, and I hate myself for even thinking this, but I almost wanted to shout at him to knock it off and behave normally for once. Didn’t he realize his sister was HURT? Why did he have to keep asking about her brains? Thank God I didn’t because I work hard on explaining to Tommy that he IS normal; he just learns differently and there’s nothing wrong with that.
It’s hard for a kid with Aspergers to get it. To him, we were interrupting his evening. As we waited he kept saying, “How much longer? I’m bored.” He didn’t ask how Natalie was. Sometimes I want to shake him and scream, “Why don’t you CARE?” And really, he DOES care, I know he does, but he doesn’t grasp a lot of social cues. He could see I was crying, but because he loves the human body, his main focus was, “Since she has a hole in her head, can you see her brain? Or her skull?”
Tom had to go back to work since he had his dog with him. He said he’d be back and as soon as he left I burst into tears all over again. I didn’t want to be alone. There were scary people in the room. I hear horror stories about gangs around Oklahoma and there were several men waiting in there who looked like they could be apart of a gang. Suppose they pulled out a gun and started to shoot up the place?
We were still waiting when Tom returned an hour later.
I think we had to wait about two hours and for an ER, that’s not bad.
We were brought back to a room and someone came to look at her head.
“Is it really bad?” I asked. “There was so much blood.”
“Head injuries always have a lot of blood,” I was told.
I didn’t know this.
I mean, you’d think because I watch a lot of Grey’s Anatomy and ER that I would KNOW this. The episodes have a lot of blood but I assume sometimes it’s for show—you know, have more blood and the audience will appreciate it more? But no. Head injuries=lots of blood. FYI.
Natalie had to get two staples in her head.
“Is it going to hurt?” Natalie asked.
I didn’t want to lie to her so I said yes but if she were brave that she’d get a Rapunzel doll.
“Can you see her brains?” Tommy called out.
“No. It’s not that deep,” the doctor said.
Natalie didn’t cry at all. I almost wanted to cry when I saw the shot they used to numb up the area in
Natalie’s head.
The most Natalie did was say, “Ouch.”
That was it.
She’s braver than I am.
When it was over she said, “Can I get my Rapunzel doll now? I was brave.”
We promised she’d have it back at home.
I am so incredibly grateful that it wasn’t worse than it was.
On the drive home from the hospital Natalie said, “An angel kept me safe.”
“What?” I asked.
“An angel kept me safe,” Natalie repeated. “When I fell.”
I smiled. Her guardian angel, maybe.
Thank goodness she has one.
I have a feeling she’s going to need extra care seeing as she’s been in the ER 3 times and she’s only 4.
Thank you, angel, for keeping my baby safe once again.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up!
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To not like how the bride who has the biggest wedding budget usually wins the honeymoon at the end in Four Weddings on TLC. If she has a big budget, she can probably afford to pay for her own honeymoon. (Especially that chick who had the 100,000 wedding. It was obvious she was from a wealthy family..)
To think that Beyonce and Jay-Z redoing an entire floor on the hospital for the birth of their baby was a bit extreme.
To not care that One Life to Live went off the air. I don’t watch soap operas.
To wonder why Target went from 75% off to 70% off. What happened to the 75% off?
To have not understood most of the dresses that celebs wore to the Golden Globes. I suppose it just means I don't get fashion.
To sometimes agree to play hide and seek Natalie and take my time in finding here so I can get a little bit of peace.
To have not liked the movie One Day as much as the book. I figured that would happen though.
To not know what half the buttons on the remote control do.
---------------
To not like how the bride who has the biggest wedding budget usually wins the honeymoon at the end in Four Weddings on TLC. If she has a big budget, she can probably afford to pay for her own honeymoon. (Especially that chick who had the 100,000 wedding. It was obvious she was from a wealthy family..)
To think that Beyonce and Jay-Z redoing an entire floor on the hospital for the birth of their baby was a bit extreme.
To not care that One Life to Live went off the air. I don’t watch soap operas.
To wonder why Target went from 75% off to 70% off. What happened to the 75% off?
To have not understood most of the dresses that celebs wore to the Golden Globes. I suppose it just means I don't get fashion.
To sometimes agree to play hide and seek Natalie and take my time in finding here so I can get a little bit of peace.
To have not liked the movie One Day as much as the book. I figured that would happen though.
To not know what half the buttons on the remote control do.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Concept of Clean
If you're on my Facebook or Twitter page you probably saw that Natalie was taken to the ER because of a gash to her head. She's okay and I'll be sharing that story on Wednesday!
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“I cleaned my room!” Natalie said proudly. She took hold of my hand and pulled me down the hall. Then she pointed.
Um?
“Darling,” I said slowly. “I’m not sure you completely understand the concept of what clean is.”
Maybe we had been watching too many episodes of Hoarders.
Later on I told Natalie that she needed to clean her room. As in, REALLY clean the room.
“Okay,” Natalie agreed.
Five minutes later she came back down. “All done!”
I knew her room would take longer than five minutes. In fact, I was hoping it would take longer than five minutes so I could read some of my book in peace. I was a tad disappointed that she was back so soon.
I checked her room and saw this:
Natalie’s roommate in college is going to LOVE her…
------------
“I cleaned my room!” Natalie said proudly. She took hold of my hand and pulled me down the hall. Then she pointed.
Um?
“Darling,” I said slowly. “I’m not sure you completely understand the concept of what clean is.”
Maybe we had been watching too many episodes of Hoarders.
Later on I told Natalie that she needed to clean her room. As in, REALLY clean the room.
“Okay,” Natalie agreed.
Five minutes later she came back down. “All done!”
I knew her room would take longer than five minutes. In fact, I was hoping it would take longer than five minutes so I could read some of my book in peace. I was a tad disappointed that she was back so soon.
I checked her room and saw this:
Natalie’s roommate in college is going to LOVE her…
Friday, January 13, 2012
Finally Home To Family Widget and $15 Amazon.com Card Giveaway! **CLOSED!
**CLOSED! Winner posted here!!**
Most people know that my husband is in the military.
It's tough when he has to deploy.
The longest he's been gone is a year.
Reunions are always a joyous occasion but sometimes in the back of the mind I think, "When will he have to go again?"
This is why the following giveaway is close to my heart.
I was contacted to post the Finally Home to Family Widget. On it, you can take a romance recipe quiz to find out what your spouses secret ingredient for romance is.
You can download the Finally Home Dates PDF and found out some ways to spice up your romance life.
And finally, if you feel you are alone in your struggles (after all, saying goodbye and reuniting all the time is not easy) you can check out other stories from couples who candidly talk about what they've been through.
The following was copied from the e-mail I was sent. I felt it important to share:
"For many service men and women the day they return home is the happiest day of their lives! We have all seen the happy reunions of families during the holidays, but what happens after the reunion is over? For many men and women it’s the beginning of a new struggle, the struggle to put their families back together again, and it’s not easy. Military divorces have increased 42% since 2001, and that number is sure to increase with the number of service men and women returning home from Afghanistan."
Looking for a way to bring romance back?
I was generously told I could give away a $15 gift card to Amazon.com, which will be sent electronically to the winner.
Amazon has tons of different items that can be used to spice up your love life!
Giveaway Rules
--Open to anyone
--If your e-mail address is not connected to your blog, PLEASE leave it in your comment so I can contact you if you win.
Mandatory Entry:
Take the Romance Recipe Quiz in the widget and tell me what your spouses secret ingredient for romance is.
Extra Entries
--Follow my Blog
--Follow me on Twitter
--Talk about this giveaway on your blog or Twitter
Please leave a separate comment for each thing you do.
Winner we be announced on January 20th!
Good luck!
Most people know that my husband is in the military.
It's tough when he has to deploy.
The longest he's been gone is a year.
Reunions are always a joyous occasion but sometimes in the back of the mind I think, "When will he have to go again?"
This is why the following giveaway is close to my heart.
I was contacted to post the Finally Home to Family Widget. On it, you can take a romance recipe quiz to find out what your spouses secret ingredient for romance is.
You can download the Finally Home Dates PDF and found out some ways to spice up your romance life.
And finally, if you feel you are alone in your struggles (after all, saying goodbye and reuniting all the time is not easy) you can check out other stories from couples who candidly talk about what they've been through.
The following was copied from the e-mail I was sent. I felt it important to share:
"For many service men and women the day they return home is the happiest day of their lives! We have all seen the happy reunions of families during the holidays, but what happens after the reunion is over? For many men and women it’s the beginning of a new struggle, the struggle to put their families back together again, and it’s not easy. Military divorces have increased 42% since 2001, and that number is sure to increase with the number of service men and women returning home from Afghanistan."
Looking for a way to bring romance back?
I was generously told I could give away a $15 gift card to Amazon.com, which will be sent electronically to the winner.
Amazon has tons of different items that can be used to spice up your love life!
Giveaway Rules
--Open to anyone
--If your e-mail address is not connected to your blog, PLEASE leave it in your comment so I can contact you if you win.
Mandatory Entry:
Take the Romance Recipe Quiz in the widget and tell me what your spouses secret ingredient for romance is.
Extra Entries
--Follow my Blog
--Follow me on Twitter
--Talk about this giveaway on your blog or Twitter
Please leave a separate comment for each thing you do.
Winner we be announced on January 20th!
Good luck!
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Things That Annoy Me Thursday: Drivers
Since it’s the new year I decided to try something different.
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
Disclaimer: I may write about things that YOU do. Please note that I am no way insulting YOU as a person but that I simply have a different opinion.
I’ve ranted about this before.
Many times in fact.
And I’ll probably do it many times more.
But.
I cannot stand rude drivers!
Rude drivers do the following:
--Refuse to use their turn signals
--Mess around with their cell phone
--Decide that the yield sign is not for them
--Wave when a person does something nice like let them in the line
--Have bumper stickers that say stuff like, “I love Snooki!” or “Obama 2012!”
Okay.
I’m kidding on that last one.
(But seriously, how can people love Snooki? What does she even DO?)
How difficult is it to use a turn signal though? It takes less than a second. I cannot stand when a vehicle cuts me off without signaling what they are doing. I have honked at these people before and they have the nerve to give ME the dirty look. Well. YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNALED!
Yesterday I counted 5 people on the road who didn’t bother with their turn signal. Can someone explain to me why this is? If you don’t use your turn signal, how come? Is it too much work? Unless you are Gary Busey, one would think that a person would have the capacity to do this.
As for messing around with cell phones. Many phones have a thing where you can speak into it if you must send a text on the road. Do that. And if you must have a conversation, pull the crap over. I hate when I see someone with their phone attached to their ear with one hand on the wheel.
This is probably why a lot of people don’t bother with yield signs since their conversation is clearly more important than pausing for a second. I have nearly been hit countless amounts of times because a person feels like the yield sign is above them. I’m here to say that it’s not.
And finally, there’s the whole not waving when a vehicle does something nice for you bit. Look. I don’t HAVE to let you in the line. You can inch up on me with your big ass truck all you want. If I don’t feel like letting you in, I won’t. Lucky for you, I’m a pretty nice person and usually will (unless I’m in a terrible mood in which case, back off..). Now, I was raised that if a person does something nice that the polite thing to do is say THANK YOU. Or, in the case of being on the road, waving a hand towards the driver to let them know you appreciate what they’ve done.
Not many people do this because:
A)They are either busy on their phones or B) rude asses
If this happens I roll down my window and shout a sarcastic, “You’re welcome!”
So people, help me out here. Let’s all make the roads a polite place and promise to do the following:
1. Use your turn signals
2. Get a Bluetooth if you must talk on the phone
3. YIELD
4. Wave when a vehicle does something nice
5. Remove annoying bumper stickers (Oh har-de-har-har, your Pomeranian is smarter than my honor student. I doubt it. Pomeranians are annoying and bark frantically at nothing.)
Deal?
I’ve decided to create a weekly post called Things That Annoy Me every Thursday.
Venting helps.
Disclaimer: I may write about things that YOU do. Please note that I am no way insulting YOU as a person but that I simply have a different opinion.
I’ve ranted about this before.
Many times in fact.
And I’ll probably do it many times more.
But.
I cannot stand rude drivers!
Rude drivers do the following:
--Refuse to use their turn signals
--Mess around with their cell phone
--Decide that the yield sign is not for them
--Wave when a person does something nice like let them in the line
--Have bumper stickers that say stuff like, “I love Snooki!” or “Obama 2012!”
Okay.
I’m kidding on that last one.
(But seriously, how can people love Snooki? What does she even DO?)
How difficult is it to use a turn signal though? It takes less than a second. I cannot stand when a vehicle cuts me off without signaling what they are doing. I have honked at these people before and they have the nerve to give ME the dirty look. Well. YOU SHOULD HAVE SIGNALED!
Yesterday I counted 5 people on the road who didn’t bother with their turn signal. Can someone explain to me why this is? If you don’t use your turn signal, how come? Is it too much work? Unless you are Gary Busey, one would think that a person would have the capacity to do this.
As for messing around with cell phones. Many phones have a thing where you can speak into it if you must send a text on the road. Do that. And if you must have a conversation, pull the crap over. I hate when I see someone with their phone attached to their ear with one hand on the wheel.
This is probably why a lot of people don’t bother with yield signs since their conversation is clearly more important than pausing for a second. I have nearly been hit countless amounts of times because a person feels like the yield sign is above them. I’m here to say that it’s not.
And finally, there’s the whole not waving when a vehicle does something nice for you bit. Look. I don’t HAVE to let you in the line. You can inch up on me with your big ass truck all you want. If I don’t feel like letting you in, I won’t. Lucky for you, I’m a pretty nice person and usually will (unless I’m in a terrible mood in which case, back off..). Now, I was raised that if a person does something nice that the polite thing to do is say THANK YOU. Or, in the case of being on the road, waving a hand towards the driver to let them know you appreciate what they’ve done.
Not many people do this because:
A)They are either busy on their phones or B) rude asses
If this happens I roll down my window and shout a sarcastic, “You’re welcome!”
So people, help me out here. Let’s all make the roads a polite place and promise to do the following:
1. Use your turn signals
2. Get a Bluetooth if you must talk on the phone
3. YIELD
4. Wave when a vehicle does something nice
5. Remove annoying bumper stickers (Oh har-de-har-har, your Pomeranian is smarter than my honor student. I doubt it. Pomeranians are annoying and bark frantically at nothing.)
Deal?
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Dog Freak Out
We went to a BBQ at a guy’s house who Tom works with.
I was nervous.
I never know what to say or do at things like that. I mean, when I went to something like that before, someone said that they liked my perfume and I stupidly said something like, “Thanks. I got it from Glamour Magazine. I just rubbed it right on.”
Who SAYS things like that? Why couldn’t I have simply nodded and said thank you?
Basically I’m just an awkward awkward human being.
I decided to make some cupcakes to show that Tom was married to someone who was caring and who liked to cook.
Well.
That first part is true, anyway.
Plus, they weren’t fancy cupcakes. They were from Duncan Hines. Still. It’s something.
At the BBQ I stood against the wall while the guy’s dog kept coming up to me because it could sense that I was freaked out.
I’ve admitted this before and I’ll admit it again: I do not like big dogs. I think they have a hidden agenda to bite out my throat. Small dogs I can handle. Big dogs? Not so much. This was a big dog. It was a German Shepard and it had an evil glint in its eyes—which I later found out was glaucoma but still. I’d be minding my own business and it would come over and everyone seemed to stop and stare at me, waiting for me to pet it. Everyone else was happily petting and playing with the dog. I kept backing into the wall until I couldn’t move.
Plus, it’s always awkward when others catch on that you don’t like big dogs. They’ll either offer to put the dog away, which I feel guilty about. Or they’ll say, “Oh, you don’t like dogs?” and people will look at you as though you just started to recite the Gettysburg Address at the top of your lungs for no reason.
Anyway, it wasn’t so bad. I did talk a few times and managed to dodge the dog most of the time. (And yes, my husband has to work with a big dog but thankfully he doesn't take it home with him..)
The guy who had the BBQ had a daughter who immediately grabbed Natalie’s hand the second we walked in. She later asked if she could do Natalie’s makeup. I said yes because if I had said no, Natalie would have gone, “But why?” She’s a total girly girl.
About ten minutes later the girl came out and said she finished Natalie’s makeup and did I want to see?
“Sure,” I said.
Natalie came out and I tried not to cringe.
Because...
Well...
Yeah.
“She looks like a Kardashian!” I said, expecting someone else to laugh.
No one did.
Either they A) don’t know who the Kardashian’s are or B) like the Kardashian’s and did not appreciate the joke.
(But I’m sorry, the Kardashian’s do cake on a lot of makeup..)
“I’m so beautiful,” Natalie said. “So, so beautiful.”
Um. She might have REALLY high self esteem. Which yes, is a GOOD thing, but if she still says things like that when she’s older, she’s going to be shoved into lockers.
Or told off on Facebook.
“You look...lovely,” I said.
I didn’t want to offend the girl.
“I never want to take this off!” Natalie said wistfully, twirling around while the girl smiled up at me. “Can I do YOUR makeup?”
I said no.
Because...
Well...
Yeah.
I was nervous.
I never know what to say or do at things like that. I mean, when I went to something like that before, someone said that they liked my perfume and I stupidly said something like, “Thanks. I got it from Glamour Magazine. I just rubbed it right on.”
Who SAYS things like that? Why couldn’t I have simply nodded and said thank you?
Basically I’m just an awkward awkward human being.
I decided to make some cupcakes to show that Tom was married to someone who was caring and who liked to cook.
Well.
That first part is true, anyway.
Plus, they weren’t fancy cupcakes. They were from Duncan Hines. Still. It’s something.
At the BBQ I stood against the wall while the guy’s dog kept coming up to me because it could sense that I was freaked out.
I’ve admitted this before and I’ll admit it again: I do not like big dogs. I think they have a hidden agenda to bite out my throat. Small dogs I can handle. Big dogs? Not so much. This was a big dog. It was a German Shepard and it had an evil glint in its eyes—which I later found out was glaucoma but still. I’d be minding my own business and it would come over and everyone seemed to stop and stare at me, waiting for me to pet it. Everyone else was happily petting and playing with the dog. I kept backing into the wall until I couldn’t move.
Plus, it’s always awkward when others catch on that you don’t like big dogs. They’ll either offer to put the dog away, which I feel guilty about. Or they’ll say, “Oh, you don’t like dogs?” and people will look at you as though you just started to recite the Gettysburg Address at the top of your lungs for no reason.
Anyway, it wasn’t so bad. I did talk a few times and managed to dodge the dog most of the time. (And yes, my husband has to work with a big dog but thankfully he doesn't take it home with him..)
The guy who had the BBQ had a daughter who immediately grabbed Natalie’s hand the second we walked in. She later asked if she could do Natalie’s makeup. I said yes because if I had said no, Natalie would have gone, “But why?” She’s a total girly girl.
About ten minutes later the girl came out and said she finished Natalie’s makeup and did I want to see?
“Sure,” I said.
Natalie came out and I tried not to cringe.
Because...
Well...
Yeah.
“She looks like a Kardashian!” I said, expecting someone else to laugh.
No one did.
Either they A) don’t know who the Kardashian’s are or B) like the Kardashian’s and did not appreciate the joke.
(But I’m sorry, the Kardashian’s do cake on a lot of makeup..)
“I’m so beautiful,” Natalie said. “So, so beautiful.”
Um. She might have REALLY high self esteem. Which yes, is a GOOD thing, but if she still says things like that when she’s older, she’s going to be shoved into lockers.
Or told off on Facebook.
“You look...lovely,” I said.
I didn’t want to offend the girl.
“I never want to take this off!” Natalie said wistfully, twirling around while the girl smiled up at me. “Can I do YOUR makeup?”
I said no.
Because...
Well...
Yeah.
Shabby Apple Dress Winner!
I did a giveaway for a beautiful dress from Shabby Apple here.
I used random.org to pick a winner and it chose..
..number 25 which is Blissed-Out Grandma!
Congrats!
If you didn’t win try again next time. I’ll have more giveaways in the future!
I used random.org to pick a winner and it chose..
..number 25 which is Blissed-Out Grandma!
Congrats!
If you didn’t win try again next time. I’ll have more giveaways in the future!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up!
---------------
To think it was cool that my husband got to sweep a building with his bomb dog before President Obama spoke.
To love how the weather has been mild so far. I hear Oklahoma gets slammed with snow in February though…
To be tempted to buy some Valentine’s Day chocolates now.
To not watch the Golden Globes but might be tempted to tune in since Ricky Gervais is hosting again. I love his humor.
To still think the show The Middle is one of the funniest shows out there. The mother is so much like me.
To have googled Sylvester Stallone after Tom made me watch the Rocky Movies and found out that he had a son with autism. And I was impressed that he wrote all the Rocky movies. He seems like a nice guy.
To have not been watching football on Sunday when some guy named Tebow apparently did something great (I guess?) We were watching America’s Funniest Home Videos.
To love this area that Tom set up. I call it our Vow Renewal corner:
---------------
To think it was cool that my husband got to sweep a building with his bomb dog before President Obama spoke.
To love how the weather has been mild so far. I hear Oklahoma gets slammed with snow in February though…
To be tempted to buy some Valentine’s Day chocolates now.
To not watch the Golden Globes but might be tempted to tune in since Ricky Gervais is hosting again. I love his humor.
To still think the show The Middle is one of the funniest shows out there. The mother is so much like me.
To have googled Sylvester Stallone after Tom made me watch the Rocky Movies and found out that he had a son with autism. And I was impressed that he wrote all the Rocky movies. He seems like a nice guy.
To have not been watching football on Sunday when some guy named Tebow apparently did something great (I guess?) We were watching America’s Funniest Home Videos.
To love this area that Tom set up. I call it our Vow Renewal corner:
Monday, January 9, 2012
So I Finally Saw Rocky
I think it was a reference made on Family Guy that made me say it.
It was something about the Rocky movies and I said to Tom, “I’ve never really seen any of the Rocky movies. I’ve seen bits of the first one but that’s it.”
Tom was horrified.
I think his mouth even dropped open in shock.
It was like I announced that there was no such thing as Megan Fox.
“You’ve never,” Tom said, scrambling to find the proper words. “You’ve never seen the Rocky movies?”
“Um. No?”
“Why?” he breathed. He seriously seemed concerned, as if a person could not function without ever witnessing Sylvester Stallone boxing.
“It’s not my type of movie,” I explained with a shrug. A lot of my movies involve a man and a woman getting together, splitting up, walking down the street while a depressing song wails in the background, and then getting back together.
Tom wasn’t the only guy baffled as to why I had never seen Sylvester Stallone shout, “Yo, Adrian!” When we came through the military base, Tom said to the gate guard, “My wife has never seen the Rocky movies, can you believe that?” as he handed over our ID cards.
The gate guard had that same stunned expression that Tom did when he found out this news. “You haven’t seen Sly as Rocky? What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t worry, she’ll watch the movie, dude,” Tom assured him and the gate guard visibly relaxed. (!) “She’ll watch them all, except for part 5, which sucked.”
The gate guard shook his head. “No, dude, you can’t say that about Sly.”
“I love all the other movies but part 5 sucked,” Tom repeated. “I won’t have my wife watching such crap.”
It was like I was no longer there. I wanted to wave my hand and go, “Hi! When did I even agree to watch part ONE?”
“Part 5 wasn’t as good as the others, I give you that, but it’s still entertaining. She needs to watch Part 5, it’s important,” the gate guard said solemnly.
It is?
As we pulled away Tom went, “You don’t need to watch part 5. Trust me.”
Anyway, I made the mistake of buying Tom the entire Rocky collection for Christmas and guess what he said after he unwrapped the DVDs?
“Now you’ll get to see the magic of Rocky!”
Oh. Fun.
I mean, I guess it’s payback since I made him watch Bridesmaids with me. I still find the movie hilarious. Tom did not. Several times during the movie he was like, “When does this get good?” Being that he’s a cop, the only bits he liked involved the cop.
We settled down to watch the first Rocky movie on Friday.
“Does someone die in this?” I asked. I like to be prepared if someone is going to die. I did watch Million Dollar Baby and was stunned at the end. Why did no one tell me? I’m one of those people who wants to know what’s going to happen so I can PREPARE MYSELF. I am incredibly emotional and probably get too tied up in the characters.
“Not in this Rocky,” Tom responded.
“So someone eventually dies?”
“Maybe,” he said mysteriously.
Oh for—I could Google the answer if I wanted. But I won’t. I promised Tom that I wouldn’t. (Still, I think Apollo dies because he let it slip. But then he was like, “Oh, DOES he die?” and I went, “You just said he died!” and he went, “Does he?” Honestly, it was like conversing with Anne Heche when she went through her meltdown about being an alien.)
The movie was...
...well, honestly it wasn’t bad.
It turns out there WAS a love story entwined in the plot.
Rocky had it bad for a woman named Adrian who wore awful glasses but then shed the glasses halfway through when she started believing in herself. Just as Rocky started believing in himself.
“Adrian doesn’t die does she?” I wondered.
“I don’t know. DOES she?”
Ugh, why did I even bother?
Towards the end of the film Rocky is all ready to box the champion Apollo who is like the Michael Phelps of boxing. Before the big fight he finds out that he’s basically just there to fight Apollo for a show because no one believes he’ll actually win so he walks home with a sad song playing in the background—just like in the movies I like!
Then it was time for the big fight and I said, “Adrian must be worried sick!” and Tom gave me a Look because I guess one isn’t supposed to speak during the Big Fight.
But really, I’d be terrified if Tom went to box a champion.
Rocky actually does pretty well in the Big Fight. He even knocks Apollo down and Apollo is all shocked like, “WTF? This guy was just supposed to be a show!”
Man, by the end of it all, both guys looked like I do when I’ve only had a couple of hours of sleep.
The press kept trying to interview Rocky at the end, asking how he felt (which was a dumb question, it looked like his face was melting off so how did they THINK he felt?) and all Rocky was doing was shouting, “Adrian! ADRIAN!” and I said to Tom, “Aww, it’s like an ending to the movies I like. Would you ever shout for me like that?”
Tom gave me another Look.
What?
It’s romantic.
Adrian pushed her way through the crowd and she got to Rocky and they embraced and were like, “I love you, I love you!” and you think that the next scene will be of them getting married...
...but no, the movie rudely just ENDED.
“So, I’m confused,” I said to Tom as the credits rolled.
“What’s there to be confused about?”
“Do they get married?”
“Amber. Rocky, who was the underdog and who got ready to fight in only FIVE WEEKS, totally beat a champion’s ass and you’re concerned if he GETS MARRIED?”
Um.
Yes?
Isn’t that what most people were concerned about?
I mean, when a man shouts a woman’s name like that, it would be the honorable thing if he married her.
We’ll be watching Rocky 2 soon because I need to make sure Rocky did the right thing by Adrian.
And, you know, to see if Apollo dies.
Or becomes Rocky’s best friend because Tom let it slip that this is what happens and I don’t understand how.
Oh no. I think I like the Rocky movies.
(Except part 5. Apparently...)
It was something about the Rocky movies and I said to Tom, “I’ve never really seen any of the Rocky movies. I’ve seen bits of the first one but that’s it.”
Tom was horrified.
I think his mouth even dropped open in shock.
It was like I announced that there was no such thing as Megan Fox.
“You’ve never,” Tom said, scrambling to find the proper words. “You’ve never seen the Rocky movies?”
“Um. No?”
“Why?” he breathed. He seriously seemed concerned, as if a person could not function without ever witnessing Sylvester Stallone boxing.
“It’s not my type of movie,” I explained with a shrug. A lot of my movies involve a man and a woman getting together, splitting up, walking down the street while a depressing song wails in the background, and then getting back together.
Tom wasn’t the only guy baffled as to why I had never seen Sylvester Stallone shout, “Yo, Adrian!” When we came through the military base, Tom said to the gate guard, “My wife has never seen the Rocky movies, can you believe that?” as he handed over our ID cards.
The gate guard had that same stunned expression that Tom did when he found out this news. “You haven’t seen Sly as Rocky? What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t worry, she’ll watch the movie, dude,” Tom assured him and the gate guard visibly relaxed. (!) “She’ll watch them all, except for part 5, which sucked.”
The gate guard shook his head. “No, dude, you can’t say that about Sly.”
“I love all the other movies but part 5 sucked,” Tom repeated. “I won’t have my wife watching such crap.”
It was like I was no longer there. I wanted to wave my hand and go, “Hi! When did I even agree to watch part ONE?”
“Part 5 wasn’t as good as the others, I give you that, but it’s still entertaining. She needs to watch Part 5, it’s important,” the gate guard said solemnly.
It is?
As we pulled away Tom went, “You don’t need to watch part 5. Trust me.”
Anyway, I made the mistake of buying Tom the entire Rocky collection for Christmas and guess what he said after he unwrapped the DVDs?
“Now you’ll get to see the magic of Rocky!”
Oh. Fun.
I mean, I guess it’s payback since I made him watch Bridesmaids with me. I still find the movie hilarious. Tom did not. Several times during the movie he was like, “When does this get good?” Being that he’s a cop, the only bits he liked involved the cop.
We settled down to watch the first Rocky movie on Friday.
“Does someone die in this?” I asked. I like to be prepared if someone is going to die. I did watch Million Dollar Baby and was stunned at the end. Why did no one tell me? I’m one of those people who wants to know what’s going to happen so I can PREPARE MYSELF. I am incredibly emotional and probably get too tied up in the characters.
“Not in this Rocky,” Tom responded.
“So someone eventually dies?”
“Maybe,” he said mysteriously.
Oh for—I could Google the answer if I wanted. But I won’t. I promised Tom that I wouldn’t. (Still, I think Apollo dies because he let it slip. But then he was like, “Oh, DOES he die?” and I went, “You just said he died!” and he went, “Does he?” Honestly, it was like conversing with Anne Heche when she went through her meltdown about being an alien.)
The movie was...
...well, honestly it wasn’t bad.
It turns out there WAS a love story entwined in the plot.
Rocky had it bad for a woman named Adrian who wore awful glasses but then shed the glasses halfway through when she started believing in herself. Just as Rocky started believing in himself.
“Adrian doesn’t die does she?” I wondered.
“I don’t know. DOES she?”
Ugh, why did I even bother?
Towards the end of the film Rocky is all ready to box the champion Apollo who is like the Michael Phelps of boxing. Before the big fight he finds out that he’s basically just there to fight Apollo for a show because no one believes he’ll actually win so he walks home with a sad song playing in the background—just like in the movies I like!
Then it was time for the big fight and I said, “Adrian must be worried sick!” and Tom gave me a Look because I guess one isn’t supposed to speak during the Big Fight.
But really, I’d be terrified if Tom went to box a champion.
Rocky actually does pretty well in the Big Fight. He even knocks Apollo down and Apollo is all shocked like, “WTF? This guy was just supposed to be a show!”
Man, by the end of it all, both guys looked like I do when I’ve only had a couple of hours of sleep.
The press kept trying to interview Rocky at the end, asking how he felt (which was a dumb question, it looked like his face was melting off so how did they THINK he felt?) and all Rocky was doing was shouting, “Adrian! ADRIAN!” and I said to Tom, “Aww, it’s like an ending to the movies I like. Would you ever shout for me like that?”
Tom gave me another Look.
What?
It’s romantic.
Adrian pushed her way through the crowd and she got to Rocky and they embraced and were like, “I love you, I love you!” and you think that the next scene will be of them getting married...
...but no, the movie rudely just ENDED.
“So, I’m confused,” I said to Tom as the credits rolled.
“What’s there to be confused about?”
“Do they get married?”
“Amber. Rocky, who was the underdog and who got ready to fight in only FIVE WEEKS, totally beat a champion’s ass and you’re concerned if he GETS MARRIED?”
Um.
Yes?
Isn’t that what most people were concerned about?
I mean, when a man shouts a woman’s name like that, it would be the honorable thing if he married her.
We’ll be watching Rocky 2 soon because I need to make sure Rocky did the right thing by Adrian.
And, you know, to see if Apollo dies.
Or becomes Rocky’s best friend because Tom let it slip that this is what happens and I don’t understand how.
Oh no. I think I like the Rocky movies.
(Except part 5. Apparently...)
Friday, January 6, 2012
Flower Origami
Tommy becomes obsessed with different things every couple of months.
For instance, back in September he focused on anything Mario.
Before that it was Legos.
Now it’s Origami.
It could be because of his Aspergers. But then again, I remember being obsessed with various things growing up and then moving on.
Like my love for Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.
And then I moved on to Macaulay Culkin from Home Alone (what? He has pretty blue eyes..)
Tommy got an Origami book for Christmas and he’s been working hard on figuring it out. There were some tears, when he couldn’t fold the paper the right way. Tommy likes to do everything perfect the first time and gets frustrated when it doesn’t happen.
“Just don’t get mad. Take deep breaths and try again,” I always instruct.
“Sometimes Origami makes me so mad!” Tommy shouted, which is something I didn’t expect to come from a nine-year-olds mouth since most of them seem to be focused on video games and texting. (Seriously. So many nine-year-olds these days have PHONES!)
At one point he gave up and placed a pillow over the Origami book.
“I’m done with this!” he yelled.
I pulled the Origami book out. “Keep trying.”
I went to fold laundry and prepared to hear more shouting from Tommy. Instead if fell silent—well, it wasn’t completely silent. There is a four-year-old in the house, after all. But there were no more protests.
“Mommy!” Tommy said. He rushed in the room and was holding something. “Look! I did it. I made a flower.”
He held it up.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. I mean, I couldn’t do something like that.
“It’s for you.” Tommy held it out for me. “And when I get married, maybe I’ll make one for my wife, too. If she makes me pancakes.”
I smiled as I took the flower. There are hard days with Tommy but days like that made it all worthwhile.
Maybe down the line Tommy will have a wife (who makes him pancakes) and he’ll give a flower to her.
But for now, I proudly have mine displayed.
He's a great kid.
For instance, back in September he focused on anything Mario.
Before that it was Legos.
Now it’s Origami.
It could be because of his Aspergers. But then again, I remember being obsessed with various things growing up and then moving on.
Like my love for Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block.
And then I moved on to Macaulay Culkin from Home Alone (what? He has pretty blue eyes..)
Tommy got an Origami book for Christmas and he’s been working hard on figuring it out. There were some tears, when he couldn’t fold the paper the right way. Tommy likes to do everything perfect the first time and gets frustrated when it doesn’t happen.
“Just don’t get mad. Take deep breaths and try again,” I always instruct.
“Sometimes Origami makes me so mad!” Tommy shouted, which is something I didn’t expect to come from a nine-year-olds mouth since most of them seem to be focused on video games and texting. (Seriously. So many nine-year-olds these days have PHONES!)
At one point he gave up and placed a pillow over the Origami book.
“I’m done with this!” he yelled.
I pulled the Origami book out. “Keep trying.”
I went to fold laundry and prepared to hear more shouting from Tommy. Instead if fell silent—well, it wasn’t completely silent. There is a four-year-old in the house, after all. But there were no more protests.
“Mommy!” Tommy said. He rushed in the room and was holding something. “Look! I did it. I made a flower.”
He held it up.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. I mean, I couldn’t do something like that.
“It’s for you.” Tommy held it out for me. “And when I get married, maybe I’ll make one for my wife, too. If she makes me pancakes.”
I smiled as I took the flower. There are hard days with Tommy but days like that made it all worthwhile.
Maybe down the line Tommy will have a wife (who makes him pancakes) and he’ll give a flower to her.
But for now, I proudly have mine displayed.
He's a great kid.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Adventures with Scribbles
I think Natalie watches too much Spongebob.
Why do I think this?
Because she believes this is actual writing:
As in, it says actual words since it’s depicted like that in the show.
The other day Natalie scribbled this out and handed it to me.
“This is lovely,” I said, because it’s easier to tell children that what they create is lovely even though you may have no idea what they’ve just given you.
“Read it back to me,” Natalie replied sweetly.
I looked at the swirls in confusion. “Well darling, I can’t, because this says nothing.”
Natalie was immediately insulted. Her jaw even dropped open. She’d fit right in with those Real Housewives. “Yes, it does!”
I shut my eyes for a few seconds. Clearly it was going to be one of those days.
“Natalie,” I said, opening my eyes. “This is a bunch of scribbling. It doesn’t say anything.”
Natalie stomped her foot down. “Yes, it does!”
Oh man, I was going to need an extra Diet Coke.
“What do you think it says?” I tried a different tactic.
“It says,” Natalie said primly, pressing her fingertip along the gibberish. “I love you and I want some grapes.”
“Actually, it doesn’t. If you’d like me write that out for you so you could see—”
“IT SAYS I LOVE YOU AND I WANT SOME GRAPES!”
“You know what, Natalie? It does say that. My bad.”
So fine. I’m a bad mother. She’s going to go into Kindergarten, scribble something out and insist that she’s written something legible.
Go me.
Why do I think this?
Because she believes this is actual writing:
As in, it says actual words since it’s depicted like that in the show.
The other day Natalie scribbled this out and handed it to me.
“This is lovely,” I said, because it’s easier to tell children that what they create is lovely even though you may have no idea what they’ve just given you.
“Read it back to me,” Natalie replied sweetly.
I looked at the swirls in confusion. “Well darling, I can’t, because this says nothing.”
Natalie was immediately insulted. Her jaw even dropped open. She’d fit right in with those Real Housewives. “Yes, it does!”
I shut my eyes for a few seconds. Clearly it was going to be one of those days.
“Natalie,” I said, opening my eyes. “This is a bunch of scribbling. It doesn’t say anything.”
Natalie stomped her foot down. “Yes, it does!”
Oh man, I was going to need an extra Diet Coke.
“What do you think it says?” I tried a different tactic.
“It says,” Natalie said primly, pressing her fingertip along the gibberish. “I love you and I want some grapes.”
“Actually, it doesn’t. If you’d like me write that out for you so you could see—”
“IT SAYS I LOVE YOU AND I WANT SOME GRAPES!”
“You know what, Natalie? It does say that. My bad.”
So fine. I’m a bad mother. She’s going to go into Kindergarten, scribble something out and insist that she’s written something legible.
Go me.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Shabby Apple Review and Giveaway**CLOSED
**CLOSED--winner posted here!!**
Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know the first thing about fashion.
But I do know that I love the clothes over at Shabby Apple.
In case you didn’t know, Shabby Apple is a wonderful site that has tons of beautiful clothes for women!
(No, seriously, take a look at these dresses:
Shabby Apple also gives a percentage of their earnings to charities dedicated to helping women and children. So you can shop AND know that you did a good deed.
Shabby Apple sells all sorts of items! From maternity to vintage dresses, they have it all. Looking for the perfect accessory? Yup, it’s there!
And as most of my readers know, I love buying clothes for my children. This was why I was thrilled that Shabby Apple had a little kids dress section!
I was able to review the 45 Words Per Minutes Dress and Natalie absolutely loved it:
(Yes. She did put glittery lip gloss on.)
Do you want your own 45 Words Per Minutes Dress? Shabby Apple is graciously giving one away to a lucky reader. Don’t have a girl to buy it for? Save it as a gift! Or for when you DO have a girl! I guarantee, you won’t be sorry with this dress. (You will be able to pick the size you need for the dress. It runs from newborn to size 10-12.)
I’m also lusting over the Boho dress:
And the Hibiscus dress:
Mandatory Entry: LIKE Shabby Apple on Facebook and leave me a comment telling me you did this.
Extra Entries:
Follow Shabby Apple on Twitter
Go to Shabby Apple and tell me what dress you like the best.
Don’t want to wait for the giveaway to end? Shabby Apple has given me a code for 10% off all orders. Just enter airinglaundry10off at checkout. It is good for 30 days! There is also free shipping for orders over $100.
Contest will run until January 11th.
Good luck!
Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know the first thing about fashion.
But I do know that I love the clothes over at Shabby Apple.
In case you didn’t know, Shabby Apple is a wonderful site that has tons of beautiful clothes for women!
(No, seriously, take a look at these dresses:
Shabby Apple also gives a percentage of their earnings to charities dedicated to helping women and children. So you can shop AND know that you did a good deed.
Shabby Apple sells all sorts of items! From maternity to vintage dresses, they have it all. Looking for the perfect accessory? Yup, it’s there!
And as most of my readers know, I love buying clothes for my children. This was why I was thrilled that Shabby Apple had a little kids dress section!
I was able to review the 45 Words Per Minutes Dress and Natalie absolutely loved it:
(Yes. She did put glittery lip gloss on.)
Do you want your own 45 Words Per Minutes Dress? Shabby Apple is graciously giving one away to a lucky reader. Don’t have a girl to buy it for? Save it as a gift! Or for when you DO have a girl! I guarantee, you won’t be sorry with this dress. (You will be able to pick the size you need for the dress. It runs from newborn to size 10-12.)
I’m also lusting over the Boho dress:
And the Hibiscus dress:
Mandatory Entry: LIKE Shabby Apple on Facebook and leave me a comment telling me you did this.
Extra Entries:
Follow Shabby Apple on Twitter
Go to Shabby Apple and tell me what dress you like the best.
Don’t want to wait for the giveaway to end? Shabby Apple has given me a code for 10% off all orders. Just enter airinglaundry10off at checkout. It is good for 30 days! There is also free shipping for orders over $100.
Contest will run until January 11th.
Good luck!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!
I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your blog. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either. Just make sure you link up!
---------------
To be ready for season 2 of Downton Abbey (premieres Sunday on PBS!)
To have not liked most of the music that was played on the Dick Clark New Year special.
To not use Flylady to help me get organized. I figure I’d try it for a day and then get annoyed.
To miss all the Christmas decorations. I put them all away and now the house seems bare.
To love Nerds candy. I’m almost 30 and probably should prefer things like nuts and berries but I don’t. Maybe when I’m 35.
To not be surprised that Katy Perry and Russell Brand split up.
To hate when I forget to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.
To hope Tom does okay on his trip with his dog. He’ll be gone for 2 days. I can’t give more details because of OPSEC. I’d rather some nut not want to harm my husband if it’s all the same.
---------------
To be ready for season 2 of Downton Abbey (premieres Sunday on PBS!)
To have not liked most of the music that was played on the Dick Clark New Year special.
To not use Flylady to help me get organized. I figure I’d try it for a day and then get annoyed.
To miss all the Christmas decorations. I put them all away and now the house seems bare.
To love Nerds candy. I’m almost 30 and probably should prefer things like nuts and berries but I don’t. Maybe when I’m 35.
To not be surprised that Katy Perry and Russell Brand split up.
To hate when I forget to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer.
To hope Tom does okay on his trip with his dog. He’ll be gone for 2 days. I can’t give more details because of OPSEC. I’d rather some nut not want to harm my husband if it’s all the same.
Monday, January 2, 2012
New Years Poppers
The kids had fun with their poppers on New Years Eve.
And then I sent them to bed at their regular time.
Was that mean of me? I kept hearing how parents were letting their kids stay up and the thought of having mine around me for an added couple of hours made me cringe. Perhaps if Tom had been home I’d have allowed it since they seem to listen to him more than me. As it was, he had to work and I wanted to be able to watch television in peace.
Natalie was ready to go to bed anyway. She had thrown a gigantic fit earlier when I put all the Christmas decorations away.
“I love him!” she yelped, gripping onto the Christmas bear. “I love these!” She ran a hand dramatically over the pile of Christmas books.
“You’ll see them all next year,” I promised. Do you know how hard it is putting things away when a child is attached to them? I eventually was able to distract her with Swiss Roll cakes. While she munched on those, I finished putting everything away.
I did not drink alcohol on New Years Eve. No, instead I sipped on the slushie that Tom dropped off because I’m basically like a ten-year-old.
When midnight rolled around I did not get a kiss because Tom was at work and was arresting someone at that very moment...
...which is why he came into the house at 1220 and there we shared a late New Years kiss.
So how was your New Years?
And then I sent them to bed at their regular time.
Was that mean of me? I kept hearing how parents were letting their kids stay up and the thought of having mine around me for an added couple of hours made me cringe. Perhaps if Tom had been home I’d have allowed it since they seem to listen to him more than me. As it was, he had to work and I wanted to be able to watch television in peace.
Natalie was ready to go to bed anyway. She had thrown a gigantic fit earlier when I put all the Christmas decorations away.
“I love him!” she yelped, gripping onto the Christmas bear. “I love these!” She ran a hand dramatically over the pile of Christmas books.
“You’ll see them all next year,” I promised. Do you know how hard it is putting things away when a child is attached to them? I eventually was able to distract her with Swiss Roll cakes. While she munched on those, I finished putting everything away.
I did not drink alcohol on New Years Eve. No, instead I sipped on the slushie that Tom dropped off because I’m basically like a ten-year-old.
When midnight rolled around I did not get a kiss because Tom was at work and was arresting someone at that very moment...
...which is why he came into the house at 1220 and there we shared a late New Years kiss.
So how was your New Years?
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