I distinctly remember only learning a couple of things when I was in kindergarten in 1976. I learned that one should not eat paste no matter how delicious it looks. I learned to share my toys. And most importantly, I learned that I should never pee my pants in class like ,"M" did when we got birthday spankings. Seriously, we got paddled. As in, we were put on our teachers knees, and paddled with a big wooden paddle while the kids in our class shouted out the number of spankings we got. "M," his twin, "J" and I shared the same birthday, so we got spanked at the same time. "M" peed his pants. I have no idea why I still remember that 34 years later, but I do. I can't remember which folder my Fixed Asset Report is in, but I can remember that "M". peed his pants on our 6th birthday.
Ella, on the other hand, is learning a lot of stuff. TONS. I am amazed that she is reading and starting to write sentences in her homemade paper and glue "diary." She will literally spend hours at the kitchen table, asking me to spell words for her so that she can write them out and learn them. We are so very proud of her and her achievements, but there are times when it is very difficult to not giggle or bust out laughing at her mistakes.
This week, Ella brought home some of the work she had done. I guess one particular assignment was writing rhyming words that end in -ar. On the paper she had car, far, bar, star and then the word, "cuntainer." The teacher wrote the word "jar" above it. I couldn't help it, it made me giggle.
Later on, we were playing a word bingo game. On one side of the bingo card is the picture, the other side is the word. We have Ella use the word side and match the words when they are called out. When she got the word, "brush," she did a very good job of sounding out the word phonetically:
"Buh buh, rrrrr, uhuhuh sssss,huhuhuh."
"Now put it all together honey, " I said.
"DOUCHE!" she bellowed proudly.
One look at Corey and it was over. We could.not.stop.laughing. I felt so bad because Ella knew we were laughing at her, but we just couldn't stop ourselves. I just pray that this isn't going to be one of those things that she remembers 34 years later.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Monday, January 05, 2009
Resolution #2
With all of our moving, Corey and I thought we had been very good about not being total pack rats. Even if we had not been vagabonds, all it took was one look at my childhood home to know that I never wanted to be a pack rat. My mother grew up very poor, and has always had the "Great Depression" mentality of keeping every.single.thing. because one never knows when it will be needed again.
When I was growing up, the main living area of our home was immaculately clean. It was so neat and tidy that my mother would regularly have me make and remake and remake my bed over and over and over again until it met her exacting standards. The pack ratting and hoarding was limited to our partially finished basement. My father had made very deep shelves that housed hundreds of canned goods and packaged foods that could have fed an army. I figured out at a young age that people who don't have much to eat when they are young become obsessed with having enough when they are adults. Especially if they are really poor adults.
My mother was also a collector of some really strange stuff. At one point, she had every issue of National Geographic. She collected the December issues of every women's magazine she could get her hands on. My father also got in on the collection fun by collecting books and built up a rather impressive library in our basement--mostly of his college text books that would never be pulled off the shelves and opened again. When Mom would start a hobby, she would go into it with great gusto. The basement was full of fabrics, artificial flowers, yarns, embroidery floss, unpainted ceramics. There were piles of ribbons and wrapping paper that were neatly removed from Christmas boxes. We didn't really rip open presents the way most people do.
As I got older, the overflow of stuff moved upstairs. My grandmother moved into her own apartment when I was 12 or so. Instead of getting to move out of my sister's room and reclaiming my bedroom, it became the, "ironing room." Over the years, it filled up with piles of clothing, bedding, laundry baskets and the like. The basement became even more packed with stuff. It doesn't take much time to fill up a space when one saves every single box that comes into the home. Every night after dinner, my mother would send me downstairs to get the perfect plastic cottage cheese container and lid for leftovers. Or maybe it was a margarine container. I just remember the perfect towers of containers with corresponding lids, and dreading the prospect of having to go downstairs a second or third time because I didn't grab a properly sized container.
After my sister and I moved out of the house, it became worse and worse. It got to the point to where there were rooms that could not be entered. By this time, my mother had lost interest in housekeeping, so the house was a disaster.
When my father died and my mother became more and more sick, my sister and I begged her to sell the house. It took forever, but she sold the house, and sold the majority of its contents in a series of at least a dozen garage sales. She demanded top dollar for her items that reeked of cigarette smoke, age and lack of use. My sister and I were completely frustrated with the process. There were many visits where I would take things out of the house when she wasn't looking and throw them away.
At the time, I didn't give her nearly enough credit for parting with these things. This was a woman who had lived in her home for 35 years. Her home and these things were all she had. All I saw was a bunch of crap that my sister and I were going to have to deal with if she died. It was with much relief that she moved into a 600 sq.ft. apartment, where her existing overflowing crap is limited to just that space.
While she was going through the process of selling everything, my mother asked me to take some things like family photographs, a few pieces of furniture, some dishes and knickknacks. I complied because I knew I had room for the items because we had just bought a house and I understood that she didn't want family photos thrown in the trash. In the coming months, I would bring things back with me to New Jersey. She would ship items to me that had to sit in the garage to air out for a week because the packing peanuts smelled like cigarette smoke. Once the smell was gone, I would put everything in the basement.
When we moved to Cincinnati, I didn't open many boxes that had come from our New Jersey basement. It was a good thing since we only lived there for 15 months. Our house was much smaller in Belthehem, but it had a decent basement, so the boxes I hadn't opened in Cincinnati remained unopened in Pennsylvania.
We're back to having a larger house, but this time there is no basement. Boxes I could forget about no longer had a good place to go. I told the movers to put all of the boxes in our spare bedroom walk-in.
Yesterday, I made my way into the spare bedroom and started to open these boxes. I had no idea just how much stuff was in that closet. There are boxes of depression glass and milk glass candy dishes. They instantly reminded me of the holidays, when these bowls were filled with peanuts and starlight mints that stuck together after a few weeks of humid weather. I found silver tea sets for tea parties we don't have, and silver gravy boats and ladels for all of the gravy we don't eat. I found the box of all of the sympathy cards that my mother got after my father died. I am not sure what the appropriate amount of time is to keep items such as this. I threw all of them away, except for the sympathy letter from Dick Cheney (really) because that was just plain funny.
I was suprised to realize that I had boxes of our own memories that I hadn't dealt with in years. I haven't put a single photograph of my children into a photo album. Instead, they are mixed up and gathering dust in shoe boxes without lids with their edges curling. We still have an urn with the ashes of our first dog! I've never scattered them because I haven't been convinced that we would stay somewhere forever. I found a keepsake that I shouldn't even have--I don't even KNOW what to do with that! I also decided that collecting old trunks is not a very practical or fulfilling hobby if one doesn't actually refurbish them to be useable for storage.
I made a pretty good dent in the closet, but I found myself getting fairly choked up from time to time, mostly because of the photos. Seeing my father and mother during happier times made my heart ache. I found photos of my old college roommate, Steven. I found out that he had died a couple of months ago after a long illness. Seeing him being so silly in the photos of us together, riding a camel at the zoo made me profoundly sad.
I will be spending the coming weeks making some hard decisions about this stuff. I've joined Freecycle, got an Ebay account, contacted a consignment shop, and will probably scan the majority of the photos. I figure that I will sneak the proceeds into my mom's check book when she isn't looking. I'm not going to scatter McBain's ashes yet. Maybe I will once we have lived here more than two years and I feel comfortable that we will stay. Everything else can eventually go.
When I was growing up, the main living area of our home was immaculately clean. It was so neat and tidy that my mother would regularly have me make and remake and remake my bed over and over and over again until it met her exacting standards. The pack ratting and hoarding was limited to our partially finished basement. My father had made very deep shelves that housed hundreds of canned goods and packaged foods that could have fed an army. I figured out at a young age that people who don't have much to eat when they are young become obsessed with having enough when they are adults. Especially if they are really poor adults.
My mother was also a collector of some really strange stuff. At one point, she had every issue of National Geographic. She collected the December issues of every women's magazine she could get her hands on. My father also got in on the collection fun by collecting books and built up a rather impressive library in our basement--mostly of his college text books that would never be pulled off the shelves and opened again. When Mom would start a hobby, she would go into it with great gusto. The basement was full of fabrics, artificial flowers, yarns, embroidery floss, unpainted ceramics. There were piles of ribbons and wrapping paper that were neatly removed from Christmas boxes. We didn't really rip open presents the way most people do.
As I got older, the overflow of stuff moved upstairs. My grandmother moved into her own apartment when I was 12 or so. Instead of getting to move out of my sister's room and reclaiming my bedroom, it became the, "ironing room." Over the years, it filled up with piles of clothing, bedding, laundry baskets and the like. The basement became even more packed with stuff. It doesn't take much time to fill up a space when one saves every single box that comes into the home. Every night after dinner, my mother would send me downstairs to get the perfect plastic cottage cheese container and lid for leftovers. Or maybe it was a margarine container. I just remember the perfect towers of containers with corresponding lids, and dreading the prospect of having to go downstairs a second or third time because I didn't grab a properly sized container.
After my sister and I moved out of the house, it became worse and worse. It got to the point to where there were rooms that could not be entered. By this time, my mother had lost interest in housekeeping, so the house was a disaster.
When my father died and my mother became more and more sick, my sister and I begged her to sell the house. It took forever, but she sold the house, and sold the majority of its contents in a series of at least a dozen garage sales. She demanded top dollar for her items that reeked of cigarette smoke, age and lack of use. My sister and I were completely frustrated with the process. There were many visits where I would take things out of the house when she wasn't looking and throw them away.
At the time, I didn't give her nearly enough credit for parting with these things. This was a woman who had lived in her home for 35 years. Her home and these things were all she had. All I saw was a bunch of crap that my sister and I were going to have to deal with if she died. It was with much relief that she moved into a 600 sq.ft. apartment, where her existing overflowing crap is limited to just that space.
While she was going through the process of selling everything, my mother asked me to take some things like family photographs, a few pieces of furniture, some dishes and knickknacks. I complied because I knew I had room for the items because we had just bought a house and I understood that she didn't want family photos thrown in the trash. In the coming months, I would bring things back with me to New Jersey. She would ship items to me that had to sit in the garage to air out for a week because the packing peanuts smelled like cigarette smoke. Once the smell was gone, I would put everything in the basement.
When we moved to Cincinnati, I didn't open many boxes that had come from our New Jersey basement. It was a good thing since we only lived there for 15 months. Our house was much smaller in Belthehem, but it had a decent basement, so the boxes I hadn't opened in Cincinnati remained unopened in Pennsylvania.
We're back to having a larger house, but this time there is no basement. Boxes I could forget about no longer had a good place to go. I told the movers to put all of the boxes in our spare bedroom walk-in.
Yesterday, I made my way into the spare bedroom and started to open these boxes. I had no idea just how much stuff was in that closet. There are boxes of depression glass and milk glass candy dishes. They instantly reminded me of the holidays, when these bowls were filled with peanuts and starlight mints that stuck together after a few weeks of humid weather. I found silver tea sets for tea parties we don't have, and silver gravy boats and ladels for all of the gravy we don't eat. I found the box of all of the sympathy cards that my mother got after my father died. I am not sure what the appropriate amount of time is to keep items such as this. I threw all of them away, except for the sympathy letter from Dick Cheney (really) because that was just plain funny.
I was suprised to realize that I had boxes of our own memories that I hadn't dealt with in years. I haven't put a single photograph of my children into a photo album. Instead, they are mixed up and gathering dust in shoe boxes without lids with their edges curling. We still have an urn with the ashes of our first dog! I've never scattered them because I haven't been convinced that we would stay somewhere forever. I found a keepsake that I shouldn't even have--I don't even KNOW what to do with that! I also decided that collecting old trunks is not a very practical or fulfilling hobby if one doesn't actually refurbish them to be useable for storage.
I made a pretty good dent in the closet, but I found myself getting fairly choked up from time to time, mostly because of the photos. Seeing my father and mother during happier times made my heart ache. I found photos of my old college roommate, Steven. I found out that he had died a couple of months ago after a long illness. Seeing him being so silly in the photos of us together, riding a camel at the zoo made me profoundly sad.
I will be spending the coming weeks making some hard decisions about this stuff. I've joined Freecycle, got an Ebay account, contacted a consignment shop, and will probably scan the majority of the photos. I figure that I will sneak the proceeds into my mom's check book when she isn't looking. I'm not going to scatter McBain's ashes yet. Maybe I will once we have lived here more than two years and I feel comfortable that we will stay. Everything else can eventually go.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Break Time is OVAH! Time to Start Resolutin' !!!
It has taken all of a week to realize that actually WRITING with a pen and paper takes a really long time. And it hurts my hand.
At any rate, I spent the past week spending time with family. There were no surprises, which is a good thing. There is comfort in knowing that the part of the trip that includes my mother-in-law will always be nice and that the part of the trip that includes my mother might not be. She didn't disappoint.
Going home means that there is a lot of time in the car. While I drove to and from the Hoosier State, I spent a lot of time reflecting on 2008. It also gave me time to think about how 2009 is going to be different. I am turning 40 on April 1st. Look out. I have plans for this year--big plans. These plans, or resolutions if you will, are going to improve my life and the lives of my family. They will make us happy. They will make us healthy. There is a good chance that these plans might make me annoying. The important thing is that I am going to follow these plans through, no matter how cranky I get. Over the coming weeks, I will share my resolutions.
Resolution #1--No More Stupid Purchases
A couple of years ago, Corey and I decided to try to implement as much organic food into our home as possible. While it takes a little while for the pocketbook to get used to it, we don't even think about the cost now. Our tradeoff is that we don't eat out much. What is more challenging is purchasing non-organic foods that do not have high fructose corn syrup. It is in EVERYTHING--particularly breads. Our grocery store does not have a very good selection of breads that do not have HFCS and Whole Foods is not exactly around the corner.
A few months ago, Corey suggested that we start baking our own bread. I thought it might be fun, but I didn't want to buy a bread maker, so I asked his mother if we could use hers and see if we like it. She brought it to us in October and I put it on our kitchen counter. I went out and bought all kinds of flours, yeast, molasses, etc... Then, Corey said, "We should (notice the "we" part again) look into finding recipes to make our own hotdog and hamburger buns." Again, a fine idea. I went online and saw a really cool pan on the King Arthur Flour website for making hot dog buns but it was out of stock--and about $50. So then I went onto Ebay, where it seemed to be a GOLDMINE of bun pans. Who knew? We found a used one for $15. How cool was that? Then, after I "won" it, I was surprised to see that the shipping on it was $15, but whatever.
This is what we got:
The pan is quite sturdy and weighs about 10 lbs. It is perfect for baking hot dog buns if, say, your oven is as large as one that is found in a RESTAURANT. When we went back to the Ebay posting, it had the dimensions of the pan as clear as day. When I emailed the seller and asked her if she had smaller pans, I could feel the laughter in her tone of the email, confirming that she did NOT have anything smaller, and reminded me that there were no refunds.
I wish I could say this was out first and only stupid purchase, but it is not. In our excitement, we miss the details, and then we pay the price--literally.
As for the breadmaking, I am sure it will come as no surprise that I haven't actually used the breadmaker yet. I moved it to the spare bedroom when we had company and I needed the counter space and haven't brought it back out.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some items to put up on Ebay.
At any rate, I spent the past week spending time with family. There were no surprises, which is a good thing. There is comfort in knowing that the part of the trip that includes my mother-in-law will always be nice and that the part of the trip that includes my mother might not be. She didn't disappoint.
Going home means that there is a lot of time in the car. While I drove to and from the Hoosier State, I spent a lot of time reflecting on 2008. It also gave me time to think about how 2009 is going to be different. I am turning 40 on April 1st. Look out. I have plans for this year--big plans. These plans, or resolutions if you will, are going to improve my life and the lives of my family. They will make us happy. They will make us healthy. There is a good chance that these plans might make me annoying. The important thing is that I am going to follow these plans through, no matter how cranky I get. Over the coming weeks, I will share my resolutions.
Resolution #1--No More Stupid Purchases
A couple of years ago, Corey and I decided to try to implement as much organic food into our home as possible. While it takes a little while for the pocketbook to get used to it, we don't even think about the cost now. Our tradeoff is that we don't eat out much. What is more challenging is purchasing non-organic foods that do not have high fructose corn syrup. It is in EVERYTHING--particularly breads. Our grocery store does not have a very good selection of breads that do not have HFCS and Whole Foods is not exactly around the corner.
A few months ago, Corey suggested that we start baking our own bread. I thought it might be fun, but I didn't want to buy a bread maker, so I asked his mother if we could use hers and see if we like it. She brought it to us in October and I put it on our kitchen counter. I went out and bought all kinds of flours, yeast, molasses, etc... Then, Corey said, "We should (notice the "we" part again) look into finding recipes to make our own hotdog and hamburger buns." Again, a fine idea. I went online and saw a really cool pan on the King Arthur Flour website for making hot dog buns but it was out of stock--and about $50. So then I went onto Ebay, where it seemed to be a GOLDMINE of bun pans. Who knew? We found a used one for $15. How cool was that? Then, after I "won" it, I was surprised to see that the shipping on it was $15, but whatever.
This is what we got:
The pan is quite sturdy and weighs about 10 lbs. It is perfect for baking hot dog buns if, say, your oven is as large as one that is found in a RESTAURANT. When we went back to the Ebay posting, it had the dimensions of the pan as clear as day. When I emailed the seller and asked her if she had smaller pans, I could feel the laughter in her tone of the email, confirming that she did NOT have anything smaller, and reminded me that there were no refunds.
I wish I could say this was out first and only stupid purchase, but it is not. In our excitement, we miss the details, and then we pay the price--literally.
As for the breadmaking, I am sure it will come as no surprise that I haven't actually used the breadmaker yet. I moved it to the spare bedroom when we had company and I needed the counter space and haven't brought it back out.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some items to put up on Ebay.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
She Seems to Know it All
This morning, we headed to the Farmer's Market to get our last box of vegetables. The radio was on, and holiday tunes were playing as the girls played, "Let's pretend that I am Barbie Mariposa and YOU are the WITCH!" Suddenly, "Feliz Navidad" came on the radio.
"Oh, Genna. Guess what? "Feliz Navidad" is the song that Japanese people sing to wish each other Merry Christmas!
"Oh, Genna. Guess what? "Feliz Navidad" is the song that Japanese people sing to wish each other Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
They TRY to Render me Speechless
As mentioned in previous posts, my girls are virtual arts and crafts producing machines. Give them an hour and they can cover the kitchen table with dozens of pictures, necklaces and other jewelry cut out from paper. They make paper purses, paper gingerbread men, letters to their friends, letters to Santa, you get the picture. Everything is girlie, everything is pink, purple and sweet.
Yesterday, Ella came up to me and said in a very proud sing-songy voice, "I made something for you."
I looked at what she handed me. It was pink and purple, with a little bit of blue.
"Aww, you made me a key. How cute. Is it a key to your heart?"
My daughter looked at me like I lost my mind.
"NO, MOMMY, it's a GUN!"
"Wha---WHAT?!? Um, why did you make me a gun?"
Ella rolled her eyes and said, "Mommy! So you can shoot it!"
"Ummm, what does it shoot?"
Ella pondered that for a minute. "Ohhhh, fireballs."
"Oh, ok. Would I hurt someone if I shot them with this gun?"
"Welllll. I guess you wouldn't if they ran fast."
And there you have it.
Yesterday, Ella came up to me and said in a very proud sing-songy voice, "I made something for you."
I looked at what she handed me. It was pink and purple, with a little bit of blue.
"Aww, you made me a key. How cute. Is it a key to your heart?"
My daughter looked at me like I lost my mind.
"NO, MOMMY, it's a GUN!"
"Wha---WHAT?!? Um, why did you make me a gun?"
Ella rolled her eyes and said, "Mommy! So you can shoot it!"
"Ummm, what does it shoot?"
Ella pondered that for a minute. "Ohhhh, fireballs."
"Oh, ok. Would I hurt someone if I shot them with this gun?"
"Welllll. I guess you wouldn't if they ran fast."
And there you have it.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Elf on the Shelf--A Review
Last year, Corey noticed that our neighbors had an elf that kept moving around their house. When we were over for Christmas Eve, we asked about it. Turns out, their family does, Elf on the Shelf. This elf is supposed to fly to the North Pole every night and report to Santa whether the children in the house he is doing surveillance are good or not. The elf must never be touched by the children or he will go back to the North Pole and not come back. Corey was absolutely smitten and told us we had to have it for the next Christmas. In my drunkenness, I am sure I agreed.
Fast forward, October, 2008. Corey kept bugging me until I ordered the Elf on the Shelf--all $34.95 of it. It is a flimsy little doll that weighs about 2 ounces and comes with a book and a keepsake box.
November 30, 2008--We announced to the children that we had an elf coming to visit us during the holiday season, and explained the wholelie story. The reactions were mixed. Ella gets excited about anything and everything. Genna crossed her arms and said, "I don't WANT an elf staying here and watching me." When I told them they could name the elf anything they wanted, Ella decided to name him, "Present." Then she changed it to, "Elf Prince" something or other. Genna named him, "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom."
The first day was magical. All I had to do was look in the general direction of where the elf was sitting and say, "The elf..." and the girls would get all bug-eyed and straighten up. That day, there were no time-outs, no tantrums.
Day Two was a little more difficult. The elf is so lightweight and flimsy that he wouldn't stay seated in an upright position on our living room bookshelf. Every time someone walked past the bookshelf, he would fall over. The girls accused him of sleeping. We told the girls that he was really tired from flying to the North Pole and that he was new at this job. We would put him back in an upright position. Ella finally came up to me and told me that ,"Santa sent us a lazy elf." I couldn't agree more. There were also some tantrums and shenanigans that day. Reminding them that the elf was around would get them to stop briefly.
It has been a week since the elf started to grace the girls with his presence. While the first thing they do when they get up is look for him, the rest of the day he is ignored. They don't seem to care if the elf sees them fight, sass back, whine or tell me, "NO!" I have decided that the next time one of them is fresh with me, I will make sure he doesn't come back the next day, but there will be a note written in tiny elf-like handwriting, telling them that they are beasts. That should fix them.
I am waiting patiently for Christmas Eve to be over so that I can lock the elf back into his cute little keepsake box. I am creeped out by him and consider him to be a not-so-distant cousin of garden gnomes and clowns. They all frighten me. I am also tired of keeping track of all of the lies I am telling my children. I have a bad feeling that the Elf on a Shelf is going to be a painful memory that will be thrown back in my face during one of their many future therapy sessions.
Fast forward, October, 2008. Corey kept bugging me until I ordered the Elf on the Shelf--all $34.95 of it. It is a flimsy little doll that weighs about 2 ounces and comes with a book and a keepsake box.
November 30, 2008--We announced to the children that we had an elf coming to visit us during the holiday season, and explained the whole
The first day was magical. All I had to do was look in the general direction of where the elf was sitting and say, "The elf..." and the girls would get all bug-eyed and straighten up. That day, there were no time-outs, no tantrums.
Day Two was a little more difficult. The elf is so lightweight and flimsy that he wouldn't stay seated in an upright position on our living room bookshelf. Every time someone walked past the bookshelf, he would fall over. The girls accused him of sleeping. We told the girls that he was really tired from flying to the North Pole and that he was new at this job. We would put him back in an upright position. Ella finally came up to me and told me that ,"Santa sent us a lazy elf." I couldn't agree more. There were also some tantrums and shenanigans that day. Reminding them that the elf was around would get them to stop briefly.
It has been a week since the elf started to grace the girls with his presence. While the first thing they do when they get up is look for him, the rest of the day he is ignored. They don't seem to care if the elf sees them fight, sass back, whine or tell me, "NO!" I have decided that the next time one of them is fresh with me, I will make sure he doesn't come back the next day, but there will be a note written in tiny elf-like handwriting, telling them that they are beasts. That should fix them.
I am waiting patiently for Christmas Eve to be over so that I can lock the elf back into his cute little keepsake box. I am creeped out by him and consider him to be a not-so-distant cousin of garden gnomes and clowns. They all frighten me. I am also tired of keeping track of all of the lies I am telling my children. I have a bad feeling that the Elf on a Shelf is going to be a painful memory that will be thrown back in my face during one of their many future therapy sessions.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Thanksgiving
Team Hausfrau had a great time away for the Thanksgiving holiday. We spent the first couple of days north of Cincinnati with friends of ours. Rob and Laura have two girls Ella and Genna's ages and a son as well. The four girls were a tornado inside of a cyclone, wrapped up in a hurricane of dress-up dresses and Barbie dolls. It is so great to not be 12 hours away from Rob and Laura!!!
Our view from the hot tub:
Genna's got Jazz Hands.
Pre-dinner hike
Our time in Deep Creek was great, with one exception. I got some sort of head cold/sinus infection the minute we got there and I ended up blowing about 3 quarts of egg drop soup out of my nose during the week. I felt reeeaaaalllly bad when others in the house started saying they had sore throats (sorry guys!)
Other than that, the girls had a blast playing with their friend Ava, getting to know a baby (Eve). They aren't around too many babies, so I was pleased that they didn't pile drive her. I did, however, feel like the loser parent for seemingly yelling all the time because Ella and Genna spent much of each and every day whining about various things. If our friends end up not travelling with us ever again, I will understand.
Our view from the hot tub:
Genna's got Jazz Hands.
Pre-dinner hike
Yay! Dinner's ready!
We came back from vacation well-fed and well-rested. I read two books while we were on vacation, got plenty of sleep, and introduced the girls to one of the best movies ever, "The Sound of Music." Corey was pretty shaken up watching me watch it because I ignore everything around me for 2.5 hours and cry every 15 minutes. There is a reason why we don't own themovie. I think Corey would leave me if he saw me in front of the television three nights a week, sobbing because I am watching the movie, yet again.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Randomness
Things here are insane, but it is a good thing. We are packing, and repacking, and shifting our crap from one end of the house to the other to prepare for our Thanksgiving vacation. Most people just pack, but Corey lives to pack, repack, shift and organize, typically several days in advance. The man likes to have a job to do, so I usually sit back and let him go. There's no point in trying to reign him in.
We leave tomorrow and will spend the weekend north of Cincinnati. We haven't told the girls that they will be seeing their little girlfriends yet, for fear that their heads will explode. From there, we will head to Deep Creek Maryland. We are renting a house with a bunch of our friends from Pittsburgh and New Jersey. I have been obsessively checking Weather.com by the hour to ensure that it will be cold and snowy the entire week. It is looking good for that. It will be a week of eating, drinking, hiking, tubing, sledding, playing Wii and celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary. It doesn't get much better than that. That's the advantage of not spending Thanksgiving with family. There is no drama, there are no shenanigans.
We recently joined a co-op farm to get 4 boxes of winter produce over the next 2 months. I was so excited after we sent the check and decided that we will be
learning to cook with interesting vegetables and will be forced to eat it because we are paying quite a bit to do it. We decided a little over a year ago to eat a mostly organic diet, so we thought that joining a co-op was a natural extension of that. I was practically giddy with anticipation when I drove to pick up our first box two weeks ago with Ella. The vegetables were beautiful and overflowing from the box:
Corey just picked up our second box yesterday. Here's the reality: I haven't a fucking clue as to what to do with the mammoth red turnips they keep giving us (those are those big red things in the photo above), I hate radishes, and kale is most foul. I still cannot swallow celery (I never have been able to) and it is cut up in the freezer to take with us to Deep Creek for someone else to deal with. I still dislike eggplant and will only eat it when it is in baba ganousch,so I have a freezer full of that.
Ella has been quite busy at school, what with the Thanksgiving Program the kindergartners put on yesterday during the school assembly. I thought that it would just be a skit with the parents there taking pictures. I had no idea that the entire school would be there. No wonder she was so nervous! The kiddos did a really great job and if I can figure out how to put video on my blog, I will do so. Here are a couple of still shots:
With all of Ella's schoolwork, dance classes, dress-up play and tv watching, it is amazing that she has found the time to take part in another venture. Ella is teaming up with Hallmark to create a new line of personalized birthday cards. Here is her first one that is going out today to her friend Jordan:
Ella's talent for personalizing the card really comes through. It just doesn't get any more personal than confessing that you like your friend's hair. For the record, Jordan's hair IS to die for.
Speaking of birthdays, I am in the middle of birthday party angst over here. Our girls' birthday parties have always been casual get togethers with OUR friends and family. The girls' friends were the friends we made for them. Since we are new here and Ella is now starting to make friends on her own, I thought that maybe the party should be different now and maybe invite some of her new school friends. Ella doesn't know it yet, but we are having a birthday party for her on Saturday, December 6. I thought it would be fun if she had a tea party. I agonized over the invite list because she only talks about a couple of girls at school. I decided to invite all of the girls in her class (8) and then invite her friend from down the street and her little sister. I figured that only a couple of girls would show up since she doesn't appear to be friends with many of them. So far, all but one has RSVP'd yes.
Here's where I need help with birthday party etiquette: do kids open presents at parties when they are held at home? I have been to parties at Chuckie Cheese where presents were opened if it was a small party, not opened if it was a large party. I have been to parties at home, but I don't remember if the presents were opened or not. I could sure use some guidance in this arena.
Well, I am off to the dentist to pick up my retainer. That's right, you heard me. A retainer. Some people turn 40 and buy corvettes. Me? I get a freaking retainer because my teeth are shifting to the right side of my face.
Monday, November 10, 2008
And So It Begins
Most days, one can find Ella at the kitchen table, drawing and coloring for hours on end. Lately, she has been calling out to me, asking how words are spelled. Last Sunday was no different:
"Mommy, how do you spell, 'Santa Claus?'"
I told her. A few minutes later, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'microphone?'"
I told her.
"What are you doing over there? I asked.
"Oh, I 'm making my list for Santa. How do you spell 'Barbie and the Diamond Castle Doll?'"
I told her. A few minutes after that, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'my own couch and tv in my room?'"
While I didn't spell that, "N-E-V-E-R," I did tell her that she would not be getting a couch and television in her bedroom.
"But Mommy, I have plenty of room, and it would be so nice to have a couch in my room. And a tv. So that I could watch whatever I want, when I want."
"Mommy, how do you spell, 'Santa Claus?'"
I told her. A few minutes later, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'microphone?'"
I told her.
"What are you doing over there? I asked.
"Oh, I 'm making my list for Santa. How do you spell 'Barbie and the Diamond Castle Doll?'"
I told her. A few minutes after that, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'my own couch and tv in my room?'"
While I didn't spell that, "N-E-V-E-R," I did tell her that she would not be getting a couch and television in her bedroom.
"But Mommy, I have plenty of room, and it would be so nice to have a couch in my room. And a tv. So that I could watch whatever I want, when I want."
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
The Day After
One has to wonder if Barack Obama woke up this morning , and said, "What the fuck have I just done? I now have the hardest and crappiest job in America."
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
I'm Crying on the Inside
Yesterday, I was on the phone with my boss talking about work (duh) when Ella piped up from the back seat.
"Mommy, we got to vote for the 'lection today. I voted for John McCain."
"Did you hear that?" I asked Jennifer in a panic.
"Oh, yes I did. I think you need to take care of that." said Jennifer.
"I'll talk to you later." I said.
I asked Ella why she voted for John McCain. Of course, she had no idea. She's 5. I asked her what the teachers had said about the candidates. Ella replied that John McCain is the leader of our country. God help us if that happens today.
While I was momentarily devastated that my 5 year old didn't vote for Obama, I quickly remembered that she really shouldn't be worrying about this stuff anyway. I am not sure why the Tennessee schools thought it would be fun to hold mock elections, but I am thinking that the young kids probably didn't need to be a part of it.
I do hope my daughter, at some point, becomes interested in politics. Corey and I have vowed to encourage her to vote for the issues, not the party. Even though I am a registered Democrat, I tend to vote more conservatively when it comes to local government. Truth be told, had McCain gotten the nomination 8 years ago, I probably would have voted for him. I liked what he had to say then. It's a different world now.
"Mommy, we got to vote for the 'lection today. I voted for John McCain."
"Did you hear that?" I asked Jennifer in a panic.
"Oh, yes I did. I think you need to take care of that." said Jennifer.
"I'll talk to you later." I said.
I asked Ella why she voted for John McCain. Of course, she had no idea. She's 5. I asked her what the teachers had said about the candidates. Ella replied that John McCain is the leader of our country. God help us if that happens today.
While I was momentarily devastated that my 5 year old didn't vote for Obama, I quickly remembered that she really shouldn't be worrying about this stuff anyway. I am not sure why the Tennessee schools thought it would be fun to hold mock elections, but I am thinking that the young kids probably didn't need to be a part of it.
I do hope my daughter, at some point, becomes interested in politics. Corey and I have vowed to encourage her to vote for the issues, not the party. Even though I am a registered Democrat, I tend to vote more conservatively when it comes to local government. Truth be told, had McCain gotten the nomination 8 years ago, I probably would have voted for him. I liked what he had to say then. It's a different world now.
Friday, October 31, 2008
U-B-O Spells Pig!
Genna's preschool follows the same curriculum that Ella has in kindergarten. It has been cute for the girls to come home and sing the same songs that they learned from their respective schools. This is where school is a great cover for my suckitude in parenting: I am not a good teacher. At all. While I have taught the girls all about playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors" and "Thumb War," I am a wretched singer and haven't done much in the way of teaching them little ditties. I envy my friend Jenny, who has been regaling my girls with cute songs for years , and now does the same for her little one. If it weren't for Jenny, the girls would have NEVER learned the "Weenie Man Song," or her own creation she sang long before the book came out, "Whose Knees are These? Whose Toes are Those?"
At any rate, Genna is quite pleased with herself that she is learning, "big kid stuff" at school and frequently comes home and sings what she has learned. Occasionally, she combines songs and gets a little confused. This morning when she first woke up and climbed into bed us she sang the following to the combined tunes of BINGO, The Farmer in the Dell, and another song they sing to spell colors.
There was a farmer who had a pig, E-I-E-I-O
And the pig snorted
And he ate some mud
U-B-O spells PIG
Hi Ho the Dairy-o
And then the piggy pooped
It should be noted that at the end of nearly every song she sings, it ends in the main character pooping.
Happy Halloween Everyone!
At any rate, Genna is quite pleased with herself that she is learning, "big kid stuff" at school and frequently comes home and sings what she has learned. Occasionally, she combines songs and gets a little confused. This morning when she first woke up and climbed into bed us she sang the following to the combined tunes of BINGO, The Farmer in the Dell, and another song they sing to spell colors.
There was a farmer who had a pig, E-I-E-I-O
And the pig snorted
And he ate some mud
U-B-O spells PIG
Hi Ho the Dairy-o
And then the piggy pooped
It should be noted that at the end of nearly every song she sings, it ends in the main character pooping.
Happy Halloween Everyone!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Hopefully , Someone Will Come Forward
Last Friday, there was a rash of car break-ins in our small town. One of the items stolen was a system that a little girl from Ella's school uses to communicate. It was probably mistaken for a laptop.
Here is the news story. My neighbor Debbie is in the piece as well. She is an aide at the school who works with the little girl.
Here is the news story. My neighbor Debbie is in the piece as well. She is an aide at the school who works with the little girl.
PULEEEEEEESE
Let me close my eyes and let it be 2009 when I open them, for the love of GOD!
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2008/10/lost-season-5-p.html
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2008/10/lost-season-5-p.html
Monday, October 20, 2008
Lover, Thy Name is David Sedaris
I can't help it. I have always had unrequited crushes on the most unattainable people. Gay men would be a prime example. Smart gay men. Smart, funny gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men who reduce me to a lump of giggly school girl when my husband and I see one in the lobby of "The Hermitage" as he checks in. For the record, he almost ran over my foot with his rolling suitcase (swoon). Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men who can write and/or tell stories so funny that I feared I would pee my pants from laughing. The problem was, I was in the Orchestra Section, Row P, seat 30.
Next time I see him, I will wear a Depends, in addition to my heart on my sleeve.
Next time I see him, I will wear a Depends, in addition to my heart on my sleeve.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Totally Worth Being Up at 5:00 AM For This!
I am up again at an ungodly hour, but I can't be upset about it this time. I just found out that Terry Tate, Office Linebacker IS BACK! The Terry Tate, Office Linebacker commercials from the Super Bowl are my favorite commercials of all time.
I'll nap later. For now, I will just enjoy being alive and basking in Terry Tateness.
I'll nap later. For now, I will just enjoy being alive and basking in Terry Tateness.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Hausfrau Update
So much has been going on of late, but I haven't had time to really write much during the day. Instead, I am writing at night. As in 2:00 AM. The kids come into our room at least 4 nights a week, usually for valid issues like vomiting, crapping in a pull-up,etc. Other times, the girls just can't sleep. I can't yell at them because I totally understand. Even if they didn't come downstairs, I would probably be awake. The four of us just don't sleep well in this house and I can't figure out why. I will frequently find Genna sleeping in Ella's room on the floor or Ella sleeping on the sectional in the playroom. When I ask them why they weren't in their rooms, they say that they were tossing and turning and couldn't sleep.
So anyway, by the time I tuck the girls back in their beds, I am wide awake and have limited options for entertainment. If I turn on the television in the living room, the dogs will start a ruckus in the laundry room, so it is easier to just go to my office and get online.
So let's see, what have I been up to...oh yeah--I went on a road trip to Indiana with my friend to pop in on my mother. It turned out to be one of the best trips home ever. My mother was far too sick to be mean, which was a help. We spent some quality time together, I cleaned her apartment, and I ended up having some fun as well while I was there. I stayed with my friend's sister, Jennifer, who is always a riot. She is also very passionate about making the world a more beautiful place, so she makes it a point to do my hair. It's true. I have a bad hair life, but Jennifer makes it gorgeous. The bigger riot occurred when the three of us had dinner with their father and his long time love. "Big Daddy" is always good for a story, and boy, was he full of them. I could listen to the two of them for days.
Corey went away the following weekend for his annual golf weekend with his friends from home. The golf competition went to a whole new level this year with a trophy (found in the depths of the middle school where one of them works as a principal) and a blazer of questionable fabric from the Goodwill down the road. I went for the tackiest thing I could find because I never thought the jacket would ever make its way back into our home.
I was wrong. Apparently, Corey's handicap, and his best games ever cinched the title.While Corey was off with his buddies, I represented Team Hausfrau in the neighborhood's Second Annual Chili Cook-Off and Weenie Roast. I didn't win, but I heard that my chili won a few votes. I am sure everyone was told that. It was a good chance to meet the rest of the neighbors I hadn't met.
This weekend, my Mother-in-Law and three nephews are coming for a visit, which should be fun. Next weekend Lori and Jennifer are coming to stay with me because there is some sort of crazy flea market. I am really disappointed that I won't be able to go with them because our elementary school has their huge Harvest Festival that weekend and Corey and I have both volunteered to work it. It won't all be bad though. I know my hair will look good.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Out of the Mouth of Ella
Ella recently learned how to fold a piece of paper, draw a design and cut it out. She started off by making hearts and circles. She quickly moved on to people, flowers, and more abstract designs.
After creating a particularly challenging design, she asked me to cut it out for her since scissors are still awkward for her when it comes to a lot of turns. As I cut out her latest creation, she said," Mommy, you are SO excellent at cutting."
"Why thank you, Ella."
"You're welcome, Mommy. You have had a lot and a lot and a lot of practice. Do you know how I know?"
"How do you know?"
"Well, because you are really, really, really, really, really, really (she's now counting on her fingers) really, really, really, really OLD!"
After creating a particularly challenging design, she asked me to cut it out for her since scissors are still awkward for her when it comes to a lot of turns. As I cut out her latest creation, she said," Mommy, you are SO excellent at cutting."
"Why thank you, Ella."
"You're welcome, Mommy. You have had a lot and a lot and a lot of practice. Do you know how I know?"
"How do you know?"
"Well, because you are really, really, really, really, really, really (she's now counting on her fingers) really, really, really, really OLD!"
Monday, September 29, 2008
Overheard Outside
"Hey Ella."
"What Genna?"
"Let's pretend you and me are big kids, and that is your beer and this is my beer."
"What Genna?"
"Let's pretend you and me are big kids, and that is your beer and this is my beer."
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A Letter to the Man I Love
Dear Corey,
Have I told you lately how much I love you? How much I appreciate all that you do? Have I thanked you for not so much as raising an eyebrow when I told you of my plans to go off to some sort of tropical locale with my girlfriends in February? Did I even tell you that I am going away in February?
I think you are one of the smartest people I know. You are an amazing scientist who is part of something really big! I just know that you are going to help invent a drug to help people who suffer from Parkinson's Disease! The only person I know who is smarter than you is our friend Joe. He knows something about practically everything, so he beats you by a hair. I am hopeful that your smarty-pants genes were able to overcome my so-so genes when we reproduced so that our kids will have a fighting chance to be smart and get into good colleges.
I do have a question. Help me understand why you chose to clean up Ella's vomit with my shark this morning.
Love you,
Hausfrau
Have I told you lately how much I love you? How much I appreciate all that you do? Have I thanked you for not so much as raising an eyebrow when I told you of my plans to go off to some sort of tropical locale with my girlfriends in February? Did I even tell you that I am going away in February?
I think you are one of the smartest people I know. You are an amazing scientist who is part of something really big! I just know that you are going to help invent a drug to help people who suffer from Parkinson's Disease! The only person I know who is smarter than you is our friend Joe. He knows something about practically everything, so he beats you by a hair. I am hopeful that your smarty-pants genes were able to overcome my so-so genes when we reproduced so that our kids will have a fighting chance to be smart and get into good colleges.
I do have a question. Help me understand why you chose to clean up Ella's vomit with my shark this morning.
Love you,
Hausfrau
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