Friday, May 2, 2014

A Conversation Between Smart Siblings

Tonight my family went to dinner at Sweet Tomatoes. Three out of the four of us love eating there. The fourth, not so much. And the fourth has a really loud mouth.

But today I got an email that said that, for the next four days, Sweet Tomatoes is having a nacho bar. Yes, that's right. Nachos. Make your own. Unlimited.

This sounded like something that would entice The Fourth.

Said child made it to the table with all yellow food (chips, cheese, and corn). But the rest of us got our groove on and pigged out.

After consuming a plate full of yellow plus some lava cake, The Fourth got bored. He started goofing around with his soda glass. And then this conversation, between siblings ages 7 and 10, happened:

The Girl: What are you doing?

The Boy: Trying to make fart noises on this cup.

The Girl: You know, that's totally inappropriate.

The Boy: Yeah, well you are inappropriate IN GENERAL.

Fortunately, The Fourth was distracted by this conversation and no fart noises disturbed our Sweet Tomatoes neighbors. Also, the nacho bar is just chips, cheese, tomatoes, and peppers. Dial down your expectations.

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Saturday, February 15, 2014

A look back

I was just reading through this blog and I thought I'd remind you about some of the funnier stand-alone entries. At least, right now in my sleep-deprived, Saturday afternoon state, they seem pretty hilarious. Your mileage may vary.

I don’t understand people who park on sidewalks

A relaxing Thanksgiving night, or maybe not

Young, Armstrong, what’s the difference

Hopefully it’ll look good when it matters

Switched at birth

Spiders vs. SPIDERS


Happy Saturday, people! Now I'm off to wash a dog that apparently found a pile of death to roll in. 

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Another Conversation

It may be that this blog will just start featuring the occasionally amusing conversations that Husband and I tend to have. Here's this afternoon's:

Husband: What time are you supposed to leave for your appointment?

Me: Five minutes ago.

Husband: Oh, so you're right on time then.

For the record, I did make it there on time.

A Conversation

I've been having to baby my shoulder for the last six months thanks to rotator cuff tendinitis that just won't go away. What tends to happen is that it gets better, I gently use it, then it's entirely effed up again. So now I'm trying to just not use it much at all (except at physical therapy) while I take steroids and generally just complain.

I bought a new bag of dog food this week and I carefully carried it into my house, all snugged up against my body to protect the delicate shoulder. I let the bag slide down but did not attempt to pour the bag into the container, which would involve, you know, using my shoulder. It didn't take too long before Payton the Wonder Whippet found the bag and ripped a hole in it so that she could help herself. I shut the bag behind a door and asked Husband to pour the food in the bin when he fed the dogs.

Two days later, this conversation happened:

Me: Do you remember me asking you to pour the bag of dog food into the container?

Husband: Yes.

Me: Do you remember doing it?

Husband:

Husband: I remember forgetting to do it.... Is that possible? To remember forgetting?

Me: I'm not sure.....

In theory, he'll do it when he lets the dogs out next. Unless he forgets to remember what he remembered that he forgot.

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Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Well, this makes sense

This morning, The Girl, who is a rarely-absent, never-tardy, model student, had a dental appointment. The dentist only seals molars in the mornings, so there was no way to avoid missing school. Since the appointment was at 9 and school starts at 8, it seemed silly for me to drop her off at 7:30, drive all the way out to The Boy's school to drop him off at 8:15, then pass the dentist on my way back to get her from school and race back to the dentist, probably late. So instead, I kept her with me for The Boy Delivery and then we went to the dentist and on to school. We may have had a little time in between the drop-off and the dentist during which I purchased her a doughnut, but I'm not confirming that.

Upon arriving to school, I was told that The Girl's tardy was the dreaded "unexcused" because I did not bring a note from the dentist saying where she'd been.

Never mind that I'm her mom and I could TELL them why she was late and explain the legitimacy. Never mind that she wore a sticker proclaiming, "Super patient! No cavities!" Never mind that, if I had dropped her off first and then immediately picked her up again, I wouldn't have needed a note for that. Never mind that, if she was entirely absent from school, I wouldn't need the dentist to write a note to excuse her. I'd simply call the automated system and say, "She's not going to be there because she's got an appointment" and that would be that. Although, I've never tried that, but I know if you tell them she's sick, that's all they care about. No note.

But because she missed the very beginning of the school day for an appointment, she needs a note from the dentist.

Wonder if I had said that she was feeling sick this morning but now she was better so I brought her to school? Would I have needed a note then? Who would write it? Would I have had to go back home and fax them a note as I was required to ask the dentist to do? Am I even allowed to determine whether my child has a legitimate need to come to school two hours late?

The school said that this was  a county policy, but my son is often late due to doctor appointments and his school takes my word for it. Of course, they are a charter school and are apparently allowed to think with their very own brains instead of drinking the county Kool-Aid.

Whatever.

After two calls to the school to get the corrected FAX number because the secretary's handwriting sucks and no one there answers the phone with any regularity, and two calls to the dentist to make the note request and then to give them the right fax number, and then another call to the school to leave a message asking the registrar to confirm receipt of the fax, I now wait for a return phone call to ensure that The Girl's record remains untarnished by the unexcused tardy that might keep her from getting all her proper honors at report card time. Who wants to bet that the report card comes out with an unexcused tardy marked anyway?

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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

No Faith in Jaw Breaker Fans

Apparently the folks at my local movie theater don't have any faith in the intelligence of jaw breaker lovers. They felt the need to explain the meaning of $1.00.


The sad thing is, I think they had to explain how you make a dollar out of coins because people were probably trying to jam dollar bills in the coin slot. 

Morons are everywhere.




Sunday, December 29, 2013

Best bumper sticker EVER!

No offense to you running folk but this, this CRACKS ME UP.


Can't read the fine print?



My attitude EXACTLY.



Sunday, December 8, 2013

We Can Make Going to Lowe's Really Exciting!

The kids and I accompanied my parents on a trip to Lowe's today. My children were goofing around in the store and I, current candidate for Parent of the Year, was ignoring them because their "harmless" game wasn't bothering any other shoppers and it allowed me to examine the nuances between 16 similarly colored bathroom faucets. 

The goofing got a little wilder and then The Boy said, "Hey, watch this, Mom, Watch this! This is going to be funny...." to which I replied, "I'm not going to watch you all do something stupid," as I, in fact, erroneously turned to look at him. Apparently, I then blinked or experienced some sort of wrinkle in time because the next thing I saw was The Girl falling with The Boy falling on top of her, slamming her head into the concrete floor. 

I guess I really didn't comprehend the force of the hit as I helped her up and cuddled her when she cried. Then she said she was going to throw up, and on our way to the bathroom, she asked me what happened. I thought that was pretty weird, but the good thing was that when she forgot what happened, she also forgot that she needed to vomit, so we just went and got some ice instead. Lowe's overall was far less concerned than they should have been since the didn't really know how she got hurt and so for all they knew, I could have been plotting my takeover of the store via lawsuit right now. 

After getting an icepack for her head, The Girl seemed to be OK but sore, so we went to lunch. She ate. But on the way home, her headache worsened. She complained of nausea and then puked when we got home. I called the pediatrician's office, but of course they were closed. The on-call nurse said that the rule for head injuries was that two vomits in three days equals a trip to the doctor. We quibbled over whether the fact that The Girl barfed twice in close succession counted as two separate vomits. Don't you think you should have to leave the bathroom in between barfing sessions for them to count as two separate vomits? 

The nurse disagreed.

So, off we went to the Pediatric Emergency Clinic, where we spent a whole five minutes (and were gifted with a barf bucket) before they strongly suggested that I save my co-pay and go straight to the ER because that's where they were going to send us anyway. So, we and our new bucket headed off to the nearby ER.

The first thing I learned is that you should always have someone drive you to the ER because there are no freaking parking places and I couldn't just drop her off and go drive around for a half an hour looking for a place to put my car because she's seven and that's frowned upon. When we got inside with all our gear (videogames, books, a jacket, a well-loved stuffed animal, the barf bucket...) we discovered a line and no one attending it. Not comforting. 

It was hours and more barf before she was seen by an actual medical person who did more than take her temperature and ask her what happened. Every seat was taken in the pediatric area, and a banged-up noggin and a barf bucket didn't move us up in the triage. When The Girl went on a vomit rampage in the bathroom, I went searching for someone who actually worked there so I could describe her worsening of symptoms and attempt to politely suggest that they get their shit together and fix my kid. 

She was gifted with the opportunity for medical treatment shortly thereafter. We were moved to a private room with a TV, which was really nice because the crowded waiting room had enough of that "people yelling into their cell phone" vibe going on to last me for a good long while. I found it quite interesting that the nurse came in, questioned us, and then prescribed a CAT scan. I kind of thought that would be a doctor thing. But I didn't care as long as someone acted like they were paying attention to us. 

The Girl was feeling worse and worse but, when we wheeled into the CAT scan room and she saw the machine, she perked up a bit. I think some of her stomach and head pain were from anxiety. I guess a scan of your head sounds pretty scary, especially after spending hours sitting in a stark waiting room with random yelling people and general uncomfortableness. 

After the scan,we finally saw a doctor, who asked The Girl various questions and performed an exam and generally seemed very doctorly. He took the time to chastise me for not being sure that The Girl isn't, in fact, allergic to any medication. He then proclaimed her as having a mild concussion, which, it turns out, is only a clinical diagnosis rather than something you actually know from some test. Who knew? He hadn't seen the CAT scan yet so we had to wait for that next. I expected the doctor to come back and tell us what he saw on the scan, but apparently that's not the way the ER works. We waited for 30 minutes, a snack was delivered, she ate it, and then after another 30 minutes, I went to go and ask the nurse how much longer it would be before The Girl could be discharged. He appeared to be surprised that we were still there. After that, the wheels got turning and I was finally set free with some papers, my starving, bruised child and my barf bucket full of amusements. 

Tonight I have to wake her up every two hours to make sure that she's coherent and not having problems due to the concussion. So far, that's not been too successful. It turns out that a sleeping child woken every two hours just isn't all that coherent no matter what. I should write down everything she says. She just told me that she went to school today "a little bit." Hmm.

Now to wait for the bill. I'm sure our $100 co-pay didn't cover it. This trip to Lowe's is going to be the gift that keeps on giving. 


"Mom, my head hurts!"

Help pay for our ER trip! Here's how:

Monday, December 2, 2013

Where's Froggo?


Can you find the critter in this picture?



Here he is!

Pretty good camouflage, right?

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Saturday, November 9, 2013

A Halloween-Themed Urine Sample Cup

As you may remember,  at my all-too-frequent visits to the urologist for my bladder disease,  Interstitial Cystitis, I like to make my urine sample cups more amusing by writing notes or drawing pictures on them. Here is the latest....


It says, "This isn't a trick but it's not a treat either."

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Sunday, October 27, 2013

I'm pretty sure I can tell them apart

I just found this in my facebook timeline. Not as a joke... this was a legitimate posting and a for-real response.


































You know, I can't even gripe about the run-on sentence here. It's just too much.
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Friday, October 18, 2013

Happy Friday!


Have a GREAT weekend!

(Someone is really enjoying my new computer.)
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Sunday, October 6, 2013

You can't unsee this

My new computer came with this camera app that my daughter is thoroughly enjoying. My family has gotten a lot of laughs out of it, which probably says something about our intellect (or lack thereof). She took this one on her own and left it for me to see.

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Friday, September 6, 2013

This kitty is not amused


Thanks, Kelly Wilson, for sharing this awesome photo!



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Thursday, September 5, 2013

I love being raked #1



This is totally where I should have sent my kids to preschool. Right? Raking is such an important skill....

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Thursday, August 29, 2013

Oh Google...




Oh Google. You know me too well. 


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Sunday, July 28, 2013

Remember how yesterday I did a dumb thing and there were no consequences?

It was miraculous, really. I'm ALWAYS having some weird crap happen to me that generally results in a jammed finger that's still sore after two months, or a rolled ankle with swelling that never goes down, or something broken I can't afford to replace, or something broken that I HAVE to somehow afford to replace, and so on. So when I accidentally threw my cell phone across the yard yesterday and it didn't break, I figured it was a freak of nature. A rare break from the world of negative consequences.

And then today, I sliced my finger open, causing blood to run everywhere. My husband had to help me with the whole peroxide/neosporin/band-aid thing because it's hard to fix up your dominate hand while it's oozing blood everywhere. 

How did I do it? Was I chopping veggies? (HAHAHAHAHA!) Training a toothy dog? Sword fighting a ninja ant? 

No. I was throwing away trash. That's right. Just compacting a little crap so that there would be room for more crap.

So, as you see, there are always consequences to doing dumb things. They might occur 24 hours later and seem unrelated, but they happen. They happen.


The horror.

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Saturday, July 27, 2013

Can you figure out what I did here?

It's rare when I do a dumb thing and it doesn't result in injury or hundreds of dollars worth of repairs. Honestly, I think the only reason the phone still works is that Husband just put out fluffy new mulch. 

After watching this, you will probably wonder how this even happened. Just keep in mind that I was recording my own video while holding a clicker and the reward ball.

Enjoy!


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Tuesday, July 2, 2013

YO!

My daughter is the sweetest/most innocent looking creature you've ever seen. Long blond hair, big blue eyes, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose... plus she's six-and-a-half- (that all-important HALF) years old and doesn't even weigh 40 pounds yet. She's a tiny little angel... an angel that has recently adopted some kind of street-speak.

It started the other day, when she came home to taunt her brother for not going to the grocery story with her.

The Girl: I got a DONUT at the grocery store. A DONUT! You would have gotten one too if you had come with us, but you didn't!

The Boy: Well, I had a donut earlier in the day. So THERE!

To which, my little angel replied, quite triumphantly:

Well, I had one earlier in the day too, which means I had TWO donuts today. BOOM!

Boom?!

We all had a good laugh over that, which encouraged her to repeat BOOM! in various ways that were significantly less funny.

Later, I shouted for her to go to brush her teeth. I was washing her thermos at the sink and she was, I thought, in the next room watching TV. In fact, she was passing through the room I was in, and she therefore scream/screeched something that was probably "I *AM* GOING TO BRUSH MY TEETH!" but, in fact, sounded like a combination of nails on a chalkboard and someone strangling a chicken.

Husband: Wow. That was really not very nice. You shouldn't shout at your mom that way.

The Girl: Hey! She shouts at me, I shout at her, yo!

This was, quite possibly, the funniest thing I have ever heard. Done in perfect street slang accent, it was simply hilarious. Of course, we burst out laughing, thereby cementing "Yo" as part of our street-talking-six-year-old's lingo.

I wonder if this will work for me too, yo?

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Monday, July 1, 2013

Times, They Are a Changin'

Today in Target, The Girl, who is six, saw a display of cameras that you can use underwater. And then she said this:

"Look, Mom! Phones you can use to take pictures underwater!"

Generation gap, much?

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Monday, May 20, 2013

Switched at Birth?

A conversation with The Boy:

Me (to The Boy, after unpacking his lunchbox): You know, I think you might not be my son. Maybe you were switched at birth at the hospital with someone else's baby.

Boy (with a slightly anxious smile on his face): What? Why?

Me: Because I just opened your lunchbox and found that you didn't eat the chocolate I sent you. No kid of mine would ever leave behind chocolate.

Boy: There was no chocolate in my lunchbox!

Me: Yes there was. I packed you a dark chocolate Hershey's Kiss. 

Boy: Where? Show me!

Me (walking him to his lunchbox): See? Right here.

Boy: OH! Well, I didn't see it. But I'll know it's there tomorrow!

Me: Hmm. I guess you might be my son after all!

:)




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Saturday, February 23, 2013

The party scene


The scene in my bathtub looks like the aftermath of some wild party. Except the mermaid. I can't really explain that one. Maybe she'll be gone before the rest of them wake up....


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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

This crap practically writes itself


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Monday, February 11, 2013

I guarantee that this has never happened to you


Today I took The Girl to the Lowry Park Zoo, which, in my childhood, was one of those concrete and cages kind of places, but is now a really amazing, animal-friendly zoo. We have had passes for the past year but I just now, a few weeks before the expiration date, realized that I could take The Girl there on Mondays for a few hours when school gets out an hour early (budget cuts, you know). By taking her there on Mondays, we avoid bringing along The Boy, who considers zoos and amusement parks to be circles of Hell. Too bad I didn't think of this sooner.

This week, she wanted to see the stingrays before getting her roller coaster on. That was fine with me, since I enjoy all the water animals. The Girl was excited to touch the stingrays and (I thought) wanted to feed them. Stingrays in petting areas like this are debarbed and therefore "not dangerous." Allegedly.

The place was pretty much deserted, which, in retrospect, probably meant that the stingrays were extra hungry. We bought a serving of food, which was $5 for a sardine and two shrimps (ridiculous). There was also a shrimp tail which, also in retrospect, probably was not intentionally included.

I've fed stingrays before but still listened to the spiel about putting my hand flat on the bottom with the food sticking out between two fingers (which, also ALSO in retrospect, is hard to do when 10 hungry stingrays are swimming at you faster than you can get your hand flat on said bottom). I took The Girl over to the stingray pool. I showed her how to hold the sardine, which I tore in half per instructions (yummy). I hoisted her up (she's short) and she tried to feed the swarm of rays, but she let go of the sardine early and squealed. The majority of the unfed rays registered their disapproval about the whole situation by splashing The Girl, whose face was pretty close to the water. She got really wet, which she took in stride, give or take.

After we shook ourselves dry, I proceeded to show The Girl how there was nothing to be afraid of when feeding stingrays (except for getting wet, of course). I decided to use the tail piece so that The Girl would still have several more pieces of food left. I hurried to get my hand into the position on the bottom of the pool. And in about .25 seconds, a greedy ray was hovering over my hand, trying to sort out the difference between this weenie piece of shrimp tail and the skin on my knuckles. He failed. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pinch and I jumped a bit but kept the shrieks and swear words in so as to continue to assure The Girl that stingray feeding is awesomely safe and oodles of fun. I looked at the women nearby and said quietly, "That thing just BIT me!" I looked at my finger and saw blood bubbling up. "And it DREW BLOOD!" I said, a bit more loudly. I was really surprised, but again, I tried to keep it on the down low.

I knew it was ultimately my fault for trying to feed that little piece of shrimp tail so that I could maximize that $5 spent (not even by me... my mom paid). Of course, it WAS in with the food and no one told me not to feed it, but, you know. I knew it was probably not a great idea. In my own defense, though, I have fed lots of stingrays and I've torn shrimp into many illegal pieces before with no problems. I just didn't factor in the hunger level on a slow food day. Plus, I knew that stingrays don't have real teeth, just plates for grinding. I didn't ever expect them to be capable of nipping.

We carefully fed the rest of the rays, with me putting my hand on top of The Girl's once to make sure she would be safe. The rest of the time, she had me seek out the "little, cute ones" to feed while a big ray (maybe two feet across?) parked himself in front of me with his eyes out of the water, giving me a rather sinister look. The whole lot of them splashed us several more times, getting water even in our mouths (hope they clean that pool a lot!). When done, we headed over to the hand-washing station and washed a lot more than our hands.

And that's how I came to be the only person you know who was bitten by a stingray today.

Yes, that's a diamond made into a stingray. It's been far too long since I've dazzled you with my artistic skill. You're welcome.



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Wednesday, February 6, 2013

I know my spider hate has been well established, but....

I know my spider hate has been well established here on this blog but I just came across this video, and it's too good not to share, even if the leading man is a creepy spider. Enjoy! (And make sure your volume's up!)

http://www.wimp.com/hidespider/


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