We survived the birthday week celebration for the 10 year old, however, Friday when I picked the kids up from daycare she dropped a bomb on us.
She has a BOYFRIEND. This explains why she started not only brushing her hair without being told but actually putting it in a ponytail, which I've not been able to get her to do since I controlled how her hair looked when she left my house. This girl that hated jeans not more than a week ago (they're tight--how can something be tight when you're skinny and 10?--and uncomfortable--regardless of how many different pair we try on) now has decided she needs more jeans. Ah so says Mom--of course there's a boy.
This is different from the boyfriends she's had before because in fact this young lad has reciprocated her feelings. We're in trouble. She was giggly and bubbly and excited and worried about saying anything to the Hubs. He handled it better than I thought, though I think internally a small part of him died. I had just told him on her birthday that before the next 10 years he'd lose his influence over her, and so it's already started.
In the course of a few days my baby has turned into a young girl. I know she's only 10 but these events are just the first of many that are going to happen in rapid succession now and before I know it she really will be living in a dorm on a campus somewhere and not in my house. This may be harder on me than on the Hubs.
Friday night, the third night of the birthday celebration week, the Girl had a sleep over with her best friend. This is the first year we've been able to say best friend as despite all of her myriad attributes the Girl is quite shy and comes off stuck up. This has caused her to have a lot of trouble finding the right friend--you know, that friend that is your life line that you grow up with. At least that's what I assume never having had one of those types of friends myself.
Anyway I like this little girl and (so far) what I know about her parents. However this friendship has opened the door to some issues for me. Up until this point we've led a pretty insulated life for the most part. Sure there are the influences of school, daycare, TV and family but now there are influences, stronger influences, of friends. I guess I'm wondering stupid things like does her friend like us? How are we as parents compared to other parents? Does her friend have fun at our house? Does the Girl like having her friend here or would she rather go to her friend's house--like I did when I was younger. I'd much rather spend the night at a friend's house than have them spend the night at mine. Now this does not mean I'm going to be like the mother I heard about on the radio today that helped her 15 year old celebrate her birthday by letting her have a sleep over with 5 other 15 year olds and telling them all they had to pony up $5 for the vodka she let them all drink. The mom was 31 and drunk herself--one of the girls got sick and called her parents and they called the police. No, I will not be that mother rest assured.
I just want to be the type of parent that my kids are not embarrassed over, that her friends want to be around and I guess I want them to like me too because that will also hold influence over the Girl.
We're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy and frankly I'm nervous.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Fun sites
I was just cleaning out my email and found these fun sites to test your US geography.
Place the states--a little hard if they start you off with the square ones but it gets easier.
Name the states--this one is timed and is sort of easy, but fun.
If you like music (if you don't please don't tell me) try this Pandora.com.
Yesterday the Girl turned 10. I can't believe it. Cheesy, but it seems like yesterday she was just born and now the Hubs said it's half way done--in 10 years (less) she'll be out of the house. I then freaked him out by saying in 10 years he won't have the influence on her that he has now, that at some point in her life there will be another man that she looks up to and listens to more than him. He of course says this will never happen. It is going to be a sad day when he realizes it will.
She has of course milked this week since her birthday fell in the middle of a work/school week. Yesterday I took her lunch and ate with her at school (interesting to watch elementary students in their own environment) and she passed out cupcakes. Last night the four of us ate out; tomorrow she's having her best friend sleep over and we're either going to the movies or renting a movie. She's also decided the girls (which includes me) are sleeping in the den on the couches. Saturday we're having the family over for dinner to celebrate. Whew! We got her the CSI fingerprint kit for her birthday. It's pretty cool actually but I'm sure doesn't work like the real thing. I'm sure tomorrow night we'll be fingerprinting each other, drawing crime scenes and the like.
I think I may like Van Morrison and didn't realize it. There are several songs I like, Crazy Love (which also was in an episode of West Wing), Brown Eyed Girl and Brandy, and I just realize they're all his. Interesting.
Place the states--a little hard if they start you off with the square ones but it gets easier.
Name the states--this one is timed and is sort of easy, but fun.
If you like music (if you don't please don't tell me) try this Pandora.com.
Yesterday the Girl turned 10. I can't believe it. Cheesy, but it seems like yesterday she was just born and now the Hubs said it's half way done--in 10 years (less) she'll be out of the house. I then freaked him out by saying in 10 years he won't have the influence on her that he has now, that at some point in her life there will be another man that she looks up to and listens to more than him. He of course says this will never happen. It is going to be a sad day when he realizes it will.
She has of course milked this week since her birthday fell in the middle of a work/school week. Yesterday I took her lunch and ate with her at school (interesting to watch elementary students in their own environment) and she passed out cupcakes. Last night the four of us ate out; tomorrow she's having her best friend sleep over and we're either going to the movies or renting a movie. She's also decided the girls (which includes me) are sleeping in the den on the couches. Saturday we're having the family over for dinner to celebrate. Whew! We got her the CSI fingerprint kit for her birthday. It's pretty cool actually but I'm sure doesn't work like the real thing. I'm sure tomorrow night we'll be fingerprinting each other, drawing crime scenes and the like.
I think I may like Van Morrison and didn't realize it. There are several songs I like, Crazy Love (which also was in an episode of West Wing), Brown Eyed Girl and Brandy, and I just realize they're all his. Interesting.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Clothes encounters
Last night I made the mistake of running out after work to find an outfit (or something) for an upcoming business trip. Mistake I say because at certain times of the month I could try on the best fitting, most flattering piece of cloth and hate it. That time is now.
As we all know I'm no style diva. I don't really even have a style unless Vogue is now writing about comfortable clothing that shows little skin. Even in the warm months I don't show much skin, mainly because it's not the firmest or tannest it could be. I digress.
So I'm in the dressing room trying on clothes and I'm thinking, why do they think women who are a certain size are also 6 foot tall? Am I the shortest woman in the world? No, that would be my grandmother. Everything I tried on was like a mile too long, legs and arms. Perhaps I have a limb deficiency I'm not aware of.
I didn't find anything new, it was a doomed adventure.
This got me to thinking about my closet. Am I the only person in the world who has a closet that contains clothes you don't like? I bought them all so I assume at one time or another I liked them, but I have stuff in my closet that I hate and it probably isn't that flattering anyway. I might have bought it because it was on sale or I was smoking crack that day or someone mistakenly told me it looked good.
I have decided to be ruthless with my closet and get rid of the stuff I've not worn in a year (yes, I have several things in this category) and get rid of the clothes I don't like. I have a sweater in there that I know for a fact is at least 10 years old and faded and damned if I don't trot the thing out and wear it about once a winter. It's hideous!
Of course once I do this I will probably be seen wearing the same three outfits for awhile--but then I think I do that anyway! I would totally love to have one of those image make overs--though not one on TV because that's just humiliating. But I'd love to have someone tell me these are the colors I should wear, the type of pants, skirts, etc. Where's the clothes fairy Godmother/Godfather when you need her/him?????
As we all know I'm no style diva. I don't really even have a style unless Vogue is now writing about comfortable clothing that shows little skin. Even in the warm months I don't show much skin, mainly because it's not the firmest or tannest it could be. I digress.
So I'm in the dressing room trying on clothes and I'm thinking, why do they think women who are a certain size are also 6 foot tall? Am I the shortest woman in the world? No, that would be my grandmother. Everything I tried on was like a mile too long, legs and arms. Perhaps I have a limb deficiency I'm not aware of.
I didn't find anything new, it was a doomed adventure.
This got me to thinking about my closet. Am I the only person in the world who has a closet that contains clothes you don't like? I bought them all so I assume at one time or another I liked them, but I have stuff in my closet that I hate and it probably isn't that flattering anyway. I might have bought it because it was on sale or I was smoking crack that day or someone mistakenly told me it looked good.
I have decided to be ruthless with my closet and get rid of the stuff I've not worn in a year (yes, I have several things in this category) and get rid of the clothes I don't like. I have a sweater in there that I know for a fact is at least 10 years old and faded and damned if I don't trot the thing out and wear it about once a winter. It's hideous!
Of course once I do this I will probably be seen wearing the same three outfits for awhile--but then I think I do that anyway! I would totally love to have one of those image make overs--though not one on TV because that's just humiliating. But I'd love to have someone tell me these are the colors I should wear, the type of pants, skirts, etc. Where's the clothes fairy Godmother/Godfather when you need her/him?????
Monday, January 8, 2007
Thanks for the mammeries
Last week I experienced a rite of passage for women. Yea verily one would think with my advancing age (38--OLD according to the fruit of my womb) I would be beyond the wonderous rites of passage. Something happened on the way to the movies--(thankfully I should say) and that was the invention of medicine and all its wide wonders.
I walked into the office, a little nervous because like most women I'd heard the horror stories.
The women working in the office were quite friendly, probably snickering behind my back, guffawing in evilness, knowing what I was about to experience.
My friendly attendant showed me to a "dressing room" and handed me a strange contraption. It was a shirt of sorts; a wrap-around shirt with some puny excuses for ties and not a snap or button to be found.
"Take off all of your clothes from the waist up and put this on with the ties in front," she said.
I complied. Hanging my garments in the room I was careful to hide my unmentionables. Why, why do we (or am I the only one?) do this? Do we really think the embarrassment of any of these types of visits comes from the fact that someone we don't know will see a scrap of our clothing? I hid it all the same.
Into the next room. It housed some sort of station. Space? No. Gas? No. It was an x-ray machine (I think).
The friendly attendant told me to step up to the plexiglass shelf and open my shirt. She placed my breast on the shelf and I had to hold on to the safety bar (my name not their's) while she took a vise grip and lowered the second plexiglass shelf down and smashed/squeezed, compressed, flattened or otherwise mashed my breast.
I have to be honest here, she didn't really flatten it. It didn't really hurt much at all, seriously. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. It was odd to have someone handle your goods though, just flop them on the shelf like a butt roast or something.
The nice attendant did tell me that one reason it wasn't as bad as I thought is because I have ample breasts. Apparantely the smaller the boobs the more uncomfortable the procedure--less to squash.
So I say, thanks for the mammeries and thank goodness my first mammogram is over!
Why don't they have some sort of test where guys have to throw their peni (plural for penis of course) on a plexiglass shelf and have it smashed?
I walked into the office, a little nervous because like most women I'd heard the horror stories.
The women working in the office were quite friendly, probably snickering behind my back, guffawing in evilness, knowing what I was about to experience.
My friendly attendant showed me to a "dressing room" and handed me a strange contraption. It was a shirt of sorts; a wrap-around shirt with some puny excuses for ties and not a snap or button to be found.
"Take off all of your clothes from the waist up and put this on with the ties in front," she said.
I complied. Hanging my garments in the room I was careful to hide my unmentionables. Why, why do we (or am I the only one?) do this? Do we really think the embarrassment of any of these types of visits comes from the fact that someone we don't know will see a scrap of our clothing? I hid it all the same.
Into the next room. It housed some sort of station. Space? No. Gas? No. It was an x-ray machine (I think).
The friendly attendant told me to step up to the plexiglass shelf and open my shirt. She placed my breast on the shelf and I had to hold on to the safety bar (my name not their's) while she took a vise grip and lowered the second plexiglass shelf down and smashed/squeezed, compressed, flattened or otherwise mashed my breast.
I have to be honest here, she didn't really flatten it. It didn't really hurt much at all, seriously. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. It was odd to have someone handle your goods though, just flop them on the shelf like a butt roast or something.
The nice attendant did tell me that one reason it wasn't as bad as I thought is because I have ample breasts. Apparantely the smaller the boobs the more uncomfortable the procedure--less to squash.
So I say, thanks for the mammeries and thank goodness my first mammogram is over!
Why don't they have some sort of test where guys have to throw their peni (plural for penis of course) on a plexiglass shelf and have it smashed?
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Kids say (and do) the darndest things
Sorry, I can't resist recounting some of the things the Boy and Girl have done recently.
The Girl is disturbingly addicted to CSI (the Las Vegas one). (I guess this is a case of pot/kettle because I have that West Wing monkey on my back). In hindsight we probably shouldn't have let her start watching this show, but we did. She'll be 10 (double digits!) in 13 days. She has not only professed her "love" for Grisom, the main character, but she also now wants to either be a CSI or an ASPCA cop.
This week in art they had to draw a scene from their favorite movie or TV show. Yes, you guessed it, she drew a crime scene. (Yes, I'm waiting for a call from the counselor!) She drew all of the characters and Grisom and Sara were holding hands. The "vic" as The Girl called her, was a girl suspended upside down from a flag pole.
The Girl: She was shot in the head but there was no exit wound. I didn't put the gun in the picture because it is school and they don't like that kind of thing. I didn't make her a rape victim either because it was for school.
The other night while we were watching CSI (I do like it too) the commercial for some genital herpes drug came on.
Girl: What's sexual activity.
Me: (Groan) It's having sex.
Girl: You and daddy have sex, do you have genital herpes?
Me: (Louder groan) No, not everyone who has sex has genital herpes.
Next commerical--lucky me, it was for a male enhancement drug.
Girl: (Giggling) I bet I know what that's for.
Me: (Wishing I could crawl under the sofa and roll time back about 5 years.) Uh, I don't think you need to worry about what it's for.
Girl: I bet it's so men can have better sex.
Me: Seriously, there are somethings you don't need to worry about or be concerned with.
Girl: Are you going to get Daddy some of that?
Me: NO! Now stop it!!!!!
[That evening the Hubs looked the drug up online. Apparently it's a cream. The directions? Apply by hand for ten minutes until "release" three times a week the first week, then 5 times a week the second week. Smells suspect to me!]
The Girl has also suggested for her birthday (she wants a slumber party) she and her friends should stage a CSI crime scene. Yeah, I'm sure that would go over REALLY well with the other parents!!
On the other end of the spectrum we have The Boy, 7. He still believes (and I think he REALLY does) in Santa. He also believes in leprechauns and the Gingerbread Man. These two have been fostered by his teacher. In the spring the leprechauns play tricks on the class (mess things up when they're out of the room, leave little shamrocks and notes all over, etc.). In the winter the Gingerbread Man does this. The Boy's story is that last year one of his teacher's was baking gingerbread men and she opened the oven to check on them and one escaped.
The Boy got the Gingerbread Man story for Christmas and of course we had to make gingerbread men cookies.
The Boy: Mom, DO NOT open the oven while they're cooking.
Me: Ok.
The cookies come out, they're done, sitting on a plate, and we had to run out for a little while.
The Boy: Mom, make sure all the doors are locked so the Gingerbread Man doesn't escape.
Me: Ok.
The Gingerbread Man went to school with him after the holiday break.
The Boy also has decided to collect nutcrackers. In the span of a week he collected three (holiday half price sales). He has named them, Nutter, Nutty and Soul. He sleeps with them.
The Girl is disturbingly addicted to CSI (the Las Vegas one). (I guess this is a case of pot/kettle because I have that West Wing monkey on my back). In hindsight we probably shouldn't have let her start watching this show, but we did. She'll be 10 (double digits!) in 13 days. She has not only professed her "love" for Grisom, the main character, but she also now wants to either be a CSI or an ASPCA cop.
This week in art they had to draw a scene from their favorite movie or TV show. Yes, you guessed it, she drew a crime scene. (Yes, I'm waiting for a call from the counselor!) She drew all of the characters and Grisom and Sara were holding hands. The "vic" as The Girl called her, was a girl suspended upside down from a flag pole.
The Girl: She was shot in the head but there was no exit wound. I didn't put the gun in the picture because it is school and they don't like that kind of thing. I didn't make her a rape victim either because it was for school.
The other night while we were watching CSI (I do like it too) the commercial for some genital herpes drug came on.
Girl: What's sexual activity.
Me: (Groan) It's having sex.
Girl: You and daddy have sex, do you have genital herpes?
Me: (Louder groan) No, not everyone who has sex has genital herpes.
Next commerical--lucky me, it was for a male enhancement drug.
Girl: (Giggling) I bet I know what that's for.
Me: (Wishing I could crawl under the sofa and roll time back about 5 years.) Uh, I don't think you need to worry about what it's for.
Girl: I bet it's so men can have better sex.
Me: Seriously, there are somethings you don't need to worry about or be concerned with.
Girl: Are you going to get Daddy some of that?
Me: NO! Now stop it!!!!!
[That evening the Hubs looked the drug up online. Apparently it's a cream. The directions? Apply by hand for ten minutes until "release" three times a week the first week, then 5 times a week the second week. Smells suspect to me!]
The Girl has also suggested for her birthday (she wants a slumber party) she and her friends should stage a CSI crime scene. Yeah, I'm sure that would go over REALLY well with the other parents!!
On the other end of the spectrum we have The Boy, 7. He still believes (and I think he REALLY does) in Santa. He also believes in leprechauns and the Gingerbread Man. These two have been fostered by his teacher. In the spring the leprechauns play tricks on the class (mess things up when they're out of the room, leave little shamrocks and notes all over, etc.). In the winter the Gingerbread Man does this. The Boy's story is that last year one of his teacher's was baking gingerbread men and she opened the oven to check on them and one escaped.
The Boy got the Gingerbread Man story for Christmas and of course we had to make gingerbread men cookies.
The Boy: Mom, DO NOT open the oven while they're cooking.
Me: Ok.
The cookies come out, they're done, sitting on a plate, and we had to run out for a little while.
The Boy: Mom, make sure all the doors are locked so the Gingerbread Man doesn't escape.
Me: Ok.
The Gingerbread Man went to school with him after the holiday break.
The Boy also has decided to collect nutcrackers. In the span of a week he collected three (holiday half price sales). He has named them, Nutter, Nutty and Soul. He sleeps with them.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
This or that?
Here's a fun little thing. I'm going to write down pairs of random things and you have to choose this or that. I will also share my choices.
1. salt or pepper? pepper
2. sugar or spice? spice
3. hit or miss? hit
4. up or down? up
5. jack or jill? jack
6. black or white? black
7. BJ or the Bear? BJ
8. Cagney or Lacy? whichever one was the brunette--she was sassy
9. hotdogs or hamburgers? hamburger
10. milk or cookies? milk
11. Captain or Tenille? Tenille, cos the Captain was too quiet.
12. peanut butter or jelly? peanut butter
13. bacon or eggs? eggs
14. over the river or through the woods? through the woods
15. yin or yang? yin
16. day or night? night
17. absent or minded? minded
18. hot or cold? cold
19. sand or paper? paper
20. coming or going? coming : )
21. Batman or Robin? Batman
22. Laverne or Shirley? Laverne cos she had that cool L on her shirt and she was sassy.
23. Spongbob or Patrick? Patrick
24. Barnes or Noble? Noble
25. Butch Cassidy or The Sundance Kid? tough one--I'll go with the Kid
26. David or Goliath? David
27. Hansel or Gretel? Gretel
28. apples or oranges? apples
29. bells or whistles? bells
30. smoke or mirrors? mirrors
1. salt or pepper? pepper
2. sugar or spice? spice
3. hit or miss? hit
4. up or down? up
5. jack or jill? jack
6. black or white? black
7. BJ or the Bear? BJ
8. Cagney or Lacy? whichever one was the brunette--she was sassy
9. hotdogs or hamburgers? hamburger
10. milk or cookies? milk
11. Captain or Tenille? Tenille, cos the Captain was too quiet.
12. peanut butter or jelly? peanut butter
13. bacon or eggs? eggs
14. over the river or through the woods? through the woods
15. yin or yang? yin
16. day or night? night
17. absent or minded? minded
18. hot or cold? cold
19. sand or paper? paper
20. coming or going? coming : )
21. Batman or Robin? Batman
22. Laverne or Shirley? Laverne cos she had that cool L on her shirt and she was sassy.
23. Spongbob or Patrick? Patrick
24. Barnes or Noble? Noble
25. Butch Cassidy or The Sundance Kid? tough one--I'll go with the Kid
26. David or Goliath? David
27. Hansel or Gretel? Gretel
28. apples or oranges? apples
29. bells or whistles? bells
30. smoke or mirrors? mirrors
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
We Are...Marshall
The Hubs and I went to see this movie yesterday (first time in I don't know how long we went to a "grown up" movie). Of course I was pretty much obligated to go--I'm a Marshall graduate afterall.
If you haven't seen the trailers or the movie it is the true story of Marshall University football team, the 1970 crash that killed all but a couple of players, some fans, boosters, city big wigs, and how the team was rebuilt.
I graduated Marshall in 1990, 20 years after the crash. I'm ashamed to say during my four years there I knew little about the crash and in fact what I did know was based on the memorial fountain (yes, the very one I fell in one drunk night) in the quad.
The movie itself was incredible, despite some bad reviews. From those that were there or lived in Huntington, the movie remained true to the reality.
It was sad to watch the movie but also interesting because a lot of it was actually filmed in Huntington on campus--I could see my dorm in some of the shots, the quad, Old Main, the campus and of course the football stadium.
I've since learned that my great aunt and uncle (he was one of the architects for the football stadium) were HUGE MU fans and traveled to most of the games. They flew on the plane with the team to NC for the game and then, because my great aunt "just didn't feel quite right" they decided to rent a car and drive home rather than fly back with the team. My grandmother refuses to watch the movie because when the plane crashed they didn't know my aunt/uncle weren't on the plane until hours later.
One of my aunts was dropping her friend off at work at a Huntington hospital when they saw all the ambulances rushing out to the crash site.
It was a devastating thing for the town of Huntington. I'm not a big sports fan and in fact didn't attend many games while I was in college, but the movie was good and you should go see it. Plus, Matthew hotty is in it and even in his 70s wardrobe he still looks good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)