Snot, Salmonella & Splenda

As if coughing all night long, hawking up lugees (sp??) and waking up with a sore throat wasn't enough to get me started on the right foot today, Jax ran off with an unbroken raw egg and, seeing me coming to grab it away, took a big huge bite. Raw egg all over his mouth, his hands, me, and the floor (of course, Lola quickly aided in the clean-up, which means I'm now on the lookout for Doggy Hershey Squirts).

Then I had to take him up to Ry's school to do some work, and rather than play with the abundant number of toys provided in the play room, he opted to climb up to the coffee table and chew open 15 packets of Splenda.

And people wonder why we stay home so much.

So fresh. So clean.

This is just to explain the new look of the webpage.

I just couldn't stand the flashing images of pepto-bismol bottles I received everytime I logged on anymore. It was just too much. Therefore, Mrs. Moto is retired for the time being, and until I feel like going through all the tedious motions of being creative and thinking and stuff, it's going to remain as is.



Except for the Flickr Badge. And the links. They'll be back shortly. And there will be new ones!!



Contain your excitement.

This is not what I was gonna write about...

when I started typing this morning. This morning I was jotting down a little ditty about my latest submersion into Mockingbird, and its resulting effect on my life and my perspective, ad naseum... Then, as usual, I was planning on breaking into all the would-be-horrible-if I-hadn't evolved so much n the past week events that came along to destroy my Rose-colored glasses reality, including 3, yes 3 video clips supporting my claims.



It's 8 hours later and I still only have one video uploaded, so I'm scratching the whole thing. You people really missed out.



But don't sweat it, I have another (NEWER!FRESHer!) story now, one that picks up quite nicely where the previous one stalled out.



You see, in my almost-post, the moral of the story is not to let Jax ride independently on any kind of vehicle (motorized or not) during our walks to pick up Ryan from school.



This moral makes perefct sense until you realize that Jax is no longer a fan of riding in a stroller, and Ryan is now a HUGE fan of riding her bike.



So you see my problem.



I thought I'd be clever today, though, and suggested I drive to pick up Ry from school in exchange for playing at the nearby park after school, rather than riding our bike. Since a playdate with her new best friend was involved, she readily agreed.



I packed my whole big bag full of snacks and wipes and diapers and drinks, and we were ready to go.



Pick up was a breeze (if you don't count the bee who would not leave us alone), and soon Jax, Ry and her friend ran off to the park, and my new mommy friend and I chatted as we followed. It really was lovely.



Until she looked up and uttered those 3 words that send my heart into my throat, "Where is Jax?"



In the 30 yards it took to walk from the school to the park, I'd lost Jax. Little Big Man was nowhere to be found, amidst a crowd of running, screaming kids, cars cruising by, and disapproving mothers looking on disapprovingly, I walked/ran back to the last place I saw him and dispatched Ry and her friend to go the other direction



Sure enough, there he was, not 20 feet from where we started, standing next to 2 little girls in the middle of the soccer field holding a tennis ball he'd found, a big huge pee stain all down the front of his shorts.



"I think he wet himself," said one of the girls. "He was just standing here, wandering around."



I thanked the girls, hugged Jax, called off the search, and hoisted him up onto my hip, soaking the entire left side of my shirt in his urine.



And I was happy to do it.

Another Product of the Un-forked Tree

Yep, ketchup & eggs. Congratulations, Dad. He's just one step away from pouring gravy on his chocolate cake. I hope you're happy.

Does this ever happen to you?

I've just spent most of the morning getting dressed, attending to various online matters, and prepping Jax to leave the house for a 2 hour stay at the Y while I toot over to the outlet mall to purchase his Rocket costume for 50% off, which Shawn suggested I do "to save me some time making one" (aka: you suck at making costumes, Amy).

So I put Lola outside -- more on that in a bit -- gather the necessary accoutrements and head to the garage where Jax has kept himself busy in the car, flipping knobs, raising and lowering the garage door, etc...

I take a deep breath as I prepare to face the everyday-challenge of getting my 32 pounder into his carseat, when he instantly starts fighting me, struggling to keep from being buckled. Having already used up my complete arsenal of empty threats, I simply pull him out of the car, take out his bike, and leave him to being a boy.

It wasn't just Jax's fault, though. Prior to walking out of the house, I saw Shawn's wallet, thought about grabbing his credit card to use for the $17 costume, then weighed the merits of using his over using mine, considering apr's, balances, minimum payments, etc... Depressed beyond belief, I then thought about taking the money out of our "savings" account, since I'll be going there anyway to get money out to cover the "unexpected" expense of Ryan's latest Scholastic Book Order.

Furious at myself for playing the naive ingenue who just doesn't know what to do, I realize i do know what to do; I know I shouldn't even step foot at that outlet mall, I should just suck it up and tell Jax to suck it up (I mean, whatever I end up making can't be nearly as bad as his two previous Halloween costumes --Sebastian the Crab & Toto). Having made up my mind about that, but knowing I've already gotten him ready to go, I decide I'll just drop him off to play and spend some alone time cleaning.

Which is even more depressing, if you ask me, but whatever.

Then comes the seat belt struggle, my resolve wears out, and once again I quit an endeavor I've only just begun.

My question is, at what point does it stop being quitting and start being the smarter, money-saving, okay thing to do?

Anyway, enough waxing philosophic (I've always wanted to use that phrase. Yeah me!).





About Lola and the Great Outdoors:

Knowing Lola, who always appears to be cold and is constantly snuggling up under some blanket or cushion, putting her outside for 2 hours straight in the 50 degree weather may not seem like such a great idea, but then neither is spending over $200 to have your carpets professionally (and safely) cleaned, only to have to clean 2 piles of dog poo and 1 pile of dog vomit a mere 3 days later. That said, until she is potty trained, she can shiver with the rest of us.

See What Happens??

For those few (but close to my heart) of you who complain about me not posting more often, I refer to exhibits A and B:

Exhibit A:

Daddy's Meat Thermometer. This must have been where it landed after he he pierced his hand with it and came running to me for a band-aid.

Exhibit B:

Any guesses on what this is? If you guessed "frozen pastry puff" you're a winner! (Unlike the poor folks for whom I was saving this to use to make them dinner next week as an apology for the same crappy dish I made for them last night, but without the added soup. Note to self: When preparing meals for the terminally ill, make sure they are edible.)

...and here he is running away as I try to get it from him. He won't eat my Fried Chicken, lasagna, or mini meatloaves, but just try and keep him from his FPP. Go on, I dare you.

Yes, all this took place in the 15 minutes it took me to post this morning. However, now that we've put the vacuum down for a nap, Jax is also tucked away and I am free to post to my heart's content. Except I can't because I still have 2 loads of laundry, ironing, toilets to clean, and I have to get it done before 12:30 when we leave to pick up Ry from school. Don'tcha love EARLY RELEASE???

York Stew

So much to say, so little time!! Shawn and I celebrated our 2nd 6th anniversary this weekend (or as Lea puts it, our "fake-iversary") and we went camping!!

Gorgeous weather, perfect locale, it was exactly what we've been missing. We're getting ready to go again with the kids in a few weeks. If you ever get up to the Hill Country, I highly suggest you visit Krause Springs.

Menana & Big Daddy kept the kids while we were gone, a mere 20 minutes away from us, so they were able to join us Saturday afternoon for fishing and exploring (oh, and showing off the new bikes the family bought for them).

Later, Ry and Shawn carved our Jack-o-lantern, and yesterday Shawn and Jax did a Daddy day, spending lots of time doing BOY things. I did not ask for specifics. There are some things you just don't want to know about, you know?

Enjoy!!

Sunset at Krause Springs....
Our home-away-from-home...
Pun'kins..
OMG -- Ry and the neighbors had a lemonade sale, where I think they sold maybe one or two drinks, but it didn't stop them from exploiting capitalism to the fullest. (How much should you tip on a 10 cent cup of lemonade? )
Ry's new bike. Very neon. Very zebra. Very "groovy".

Silly boys...

The Thing About My Family

We fight -- oh Lord, do we fight. We're loud and often obnoxious. We drink too much and talk about taboo topics (mostly sex, and mostly my Dad). But mess with just one of us, and you'd better watch out, because all that fight, obnoxious volume, and lewd convo will come reigning down upon you in a fury. So much so that we eventually learned to stop telling each other about bad boyfriends or bosses, out of fear that we may one day take our comments back, and that by then it may be too late. Just ask Shawn, he knows.

Anyway, after my post about Ryan's bike problems, they apparently jumped to action, emailing each other, searching online, and coming to the mutual agreement that they would take care of this bike issue (and if possible, the little boy who made the disparaging comment).

I, of course, did not find out about any of this until about 9:30 last night.

I originally received a phone call from Ninny at around 7:30 stating she was at the moment preparing to purchase a new bike for Ryan, and would a 20" one do?

"It says it's for kids 48" or taller, Amy."

"Well, that doesn't help us, Nin, 'cause Ry is only 42". Plus, I already posted a wanted add on freecycle, so please just save your money."

"Whatever, I'm buying the bike. What else, a helmet?"

"I guess so."

"Pink?"

"You know it."

Then 9:30 rolled around and we received another phone call, this time from Arizona, where Lea was busy searching craigslist.

"Hey, you can get a big girl's bike for $35 in Pflugerville," she begins.

"I'm not paying $35 for a bike, Lea Ann. I posted an ad on freecycle. I'm sure someone out there will respond."

"OOH! Here's one for $20!" (she's very good at ignoring me)

"Lea Ann -- Jennifer already called and said she bought one, so just forget about it."

"Well who was this boy who said her bike was stupid?" (did I mention we also all have a flair for exaggeration??)

"No, Lea Ann. We're not gonna put a hit out on a 9 yr old for making a COMPLETELY TRUE STATEMENT. Plus, Ry didn't hear him, so no harm done."

"Hmmph. Weeelll, here's one for $25 in Round Rock."

Hearing my exasperated sigh, Shawn pipes up from across the room: "What about Jax? Does anyone think about him?" (I've yet to break the news that I'm busy planning t o spray paint Ry's current Barbie bike black. He'll LOVE that idea.)

I convey his message to Lea, and she quickly begins her search. That's the difference between my two sisters: one will jump up and buy anything anytime, no questions asked. The other one? She'll let you know where YOU can buy the needed item for the least amount of money.


After we complete our conversation, I call my mom to brag about her two youngest offspring.

As she starts laughing, she says,"Yeah, Dad and I are online right now searching for a bike for Ry." Seriously.

"Oh my God, you guys are insane!"


"Well, Dad's over here saying we should get her one for our house, and then when she comes to visit, we can run along beside her like we used to do with y'all. Then I looked at him, and he said, 'Well, you can run along beside her.'" (The man is a 5-time heart attack survivor.Plus, they live on a hill. I'm not sure I'd be able to run next to her.)



"I can't believe all of you are this serious about getting her a new bike. It's really not that big a deal. I'm almost sorry I mentioned it. "

"Well, if you must know, Ninny put out a APB on the bike issue, I said we would all help get her a bike, but not to tell you so it could be a surprise. I love how they listen to me."

That's another thing about my family -- you might think there are secrets, but the real secret is that everyone knows what they're not supposed to. You'd think by now that we'd stop telling "secrets", but we're stubborn as well.

Non-secret-keeping stubborn little-boy-threatening bike-buying rednecks. That's us!!

Misfits on Parade

So. Today was "Walk to School Day", an event that's been building up in Ry's mind for at least the past week. We do our own "walk to school days" every now and then, but they usually end up with us either:

A)turning around halfway there to get in the car;
B)yelling at each other about going too fast/too slow;
C)arguing about whether or not to hitch a ride with our neighbor, who leaves 15 minutes after we do and still beats us there.

These results are generally perpetuated by the fact that it's 7 am, the kids have been up since 5 (fighting the majority of the time -- isn't it amazing how dire the situation becomes when the wrong kid gets to let the dog out, or gets served breakfast first, or...turns out a light?), and I've not consumed enough coffee/Prozac to cheerily and patiently assist in the 30 minute sojourn.

My sneaking suspicion is that the real cause of the problems are that:

A) Ryan's bike is a 12" 3 yr old piece of poo with uneven training wheels;
B) Jax insists on getting out whenever we stop to push his cars along the sidewalk/street/grassy knoll;
C) Mommy is a bitch.

Seriously, the other day I heard two older boys pass by Ryan's bike on the bike rack at school and make fun of it, one commenting to the other, "Dude. Your sister's got a bigger bike than that one. And she's 3." Thank God Ryan didn't hear that. It's taken us 3 years to get her on the damn thing, and the only reason I finally made her do it was because I came across a pic of myself at age 4 on a big ole honker of a bike with no training wheels, realizing I was seriously doing my daughter a disservice by letting her wimp out.

Then there's Jax who quite literally hopped out of the stroller this morning in the middle of the crosswalk holding all 3 of his huge CARS cars, and proceeded to crawl his way across the street, tripping a couple of kids and 1 Dad. Oh, I tried to pick him up and move him along, but the only thing that did was leave him kicking, screaming, and hitting, then throwing his cars onto the ground for ME to crawl around and pick up, tripping 2 more kids and 1 mom.

When I finally managed to get the cars picked up, him in the stroller, and my glasses on straight, I realized Ryan was far ahead with some of her friends, all of whom had nice big 16" bikes, sans training wheels. Eventually she caught on, because I finally caught up to her as she was walking her bike, mumbling something about, "embarrassed..training wheels, mmmpphhh..."

So I quipped, "Well at least you're not wearing one of those geeky helmets like they are, huh?"

"I like those helmets, mom. Why won't you get one for me?"

Because as I said, Mommy is a bitch.

Now I'm headed to find a helmet for my daughter who can barely ride a 12" bike with training wheels, but whose fashion sense has taken a backseat to peer pressure, leaving her incomplete without protective head gear.

My how times have changed.

Slow Learner

That would be me, of course. I've come down stairs 3 times over the past 2 days to find Jax digging into the ice cream with a fork. Each time he grins, holds up his fork and declares, "Yummy!" Then he quickly adds, "No want more ice cream, Mommy. Here you go," and hands the sticky carton back to me.

It's now almost empty.

I'm off to buy a fridge lock. And one for the oven -- did I mention the day I came into the kitchen to find the oven on BROIL and the door wide open?

You haven't lived until...

You've spent 2 days scraping stool samples out of your diarrhea-ridden son's diapers, simultaneously fending off both your poo-eating dog and your own gag reflex. They really should have a class detailing all the nasty stuff you have to do when you have kids. Talk about population control.

Is it enough?

I've been reading this phrase a lot as I finish "The Hours", and I've been applying that question to my own life and the way I live every day.

Lately I've been doing some serious soul-searching regarding my life, my purpose, my reason for being here. I adore my family. I love my kids and my husband, but I can't help but feel deep deep down in my toes that they are not all there is for me and my life. Doesn't that sound horrible? I feel so much guilt admitting this, because as much as I bitch and complain about the little details, I really do love my family.

But still, even as I declare this love, I can't help but admit that something inside me feels empty, and I don't know how to fill it.

I've spent the past 4 years playing around with my various mediocre talents, trying to figure out my passion so that I can be not only enjoying myself, but also bringing profit into the house. I have failed at every endeavor, including chunkyrhino, and I can't help but think it's because I'm trying to serve 2 masters, and it's the financial master that's winning and in doing so, ruining my soul.

Shawn works his fingers to the bone almost every single day of the week, only to be paid less than he was a year before, only to come home to the realization that yes, we are going to have to struggle again this month, only to feel like less of a man for not being able to provide what his family wants. Isn't that a sad statement? That a virile, healthy, strong young man would feel like a failure because he doesn't make enough money to send his kids to camp or take a yearly vacation (and not just a drive to the coast). These things are mundane and insignificant, and here he is guilt-ridden and anger filled because he cannot attain them. And yet, there are people across the world who would feel immeasurable joy at being able to live the life we live.

I know I am at fault. I know that I am not, or have not been, strong enough to resist the temptations of material goods, of creature comforts...of cable. If we're being honest here, and I think we are, 70% of the arguments I have with the kids involve them not leaving me alone long enough to watch Oprah or... South Park. Seriously, though, how silly is this? How sad and pathetic and weak is it that I would put television before the beautiful gifts God has bestowed on me.

I want to rid myself of all of these temptations. I want to not want to watch a movie rather than take a walk with Jaxson, or play dress up with Ryan. I do work at it, I really do, and I detest as much as the next guy people who whine and complain and never take any action. I don't want to be one of those people, and have always prided myself on working towards that goal, but as I reach this point in my life, I'm stripped of my rationalizations and forced to face the ugly, ugly truth: I was not put on this Earth to watch tv, to rack up credit card bills on extraneous clothing, to be famous, to make loads of money.

Then what? Just a mom? Just a wife? Nothing else? Just wait 18 years until the kids are out of the house to start really living the life I feel destined for? What about Shawn? Where does he fit into the equation? And couldn't we all benefit from a change? If we were able to work towards a higher purpose together, side by side, day by day, as a true unit?

Since I was a little girl, before I knew how to put it into words, I wanted to help the less fortunate. The Peace Corps, missionary work, all of this seemed so romantic and idyllic to me. As I grew up, I continued to spend spare time volunteering here and there, but never took the plunge into something bare and scary. And I've got a degree as a teacher, which I thought would satisfy my urge to help others, but which really just led to more bitching and whining.

I stayed home with my children, only to find myself complaining left and right about, well, everything. Everything I have to do, everything I don't have, everything other people get to do that I'm missing out on. I try to attribute my day-to-day activities to the higher goal of taking care of the 3 people I love, but still I feel empty and shallow, spoiled and rotten. Is it really necessary that I make those Chunky Apple muffins that Shawn love so much? Or that Ryan's room is pretty as a picture? How important is it really that I make new pillow covers for our couch? I mean, really?

The temptations and covetous feelings are everywhere, to the point that I really don't feel I will be whole until I do without. Without the air conditioning, without the tv, the clothes, the house. Without the knowledge of what others have, without the desire to take time away from my loved ones in order to chase the almighty dollar. I have all these things and still am not fulfilled, so what next?

Am I impetuous? Yes. Am I dramatic? Please. Do I go to extremes? You bet. Is this just one of those instances where I've forgotten to take a few days' worth of Prozac, have slipped into a mild depression and started taking inventory of my life through an unstable mind? Maybe.

But what if this is none of those things? What if this is real and tactile and waiting? What then? How do I reconcile 30 years of hedonism, a husband and 2 kids with the desire to sell everything and move to Guatemala? Why would God deliver these people to me if this is my calling, but not theirs? Why is it always all or nothing with me? Why can't I merge both worlds?

What is wrong with me? And how can I fix it? I want more for my kids. I want more for them than a new computer or a great college university or a career in the NFL or on Broadway, but what if those are their dreams? When do I let go of mine in order to help them achieve theirs? Would I be serving them better if we did let go of our possessions and lived in foreign country where they could actually experience life, learn things never taught in books, and recognize the true worth of silly little things like bread and water and a clean place to sleep.

Am I looking for the easy way rather than the difficult path that forces me to meander through the nonsense to get to the essential? I feel like the answer is yes, but then I also feel like I tend to be a tad hard on myself during these moments of insight and deliberation. Or maybe I'm not being hard on myself so much as being honest and realistic.

I guess what i want is for someone to tell me what to do. I am weak. I need guidance and direction. I need a sign. I need to know whether or not living in a nice house, comfortable and safe, spending spare time collecting clothes for the underprivileged, or working the Mobile Loaves and Fishes truck, sending money to children thousands of miles away so they don't have to hide at night from armies who would rather see them as soldiers than see them in school is enough. I do those things now, and I'm proud of the work I try to do (another on my long list of sins), but I need to know if it is enough. If I'm willing to go places others won't in order to help those truly in desperate need, why shouldn't I?

Just a snippet

Here's a tidbit I've pulled from the agglomeration of stories we've gathered this week:

Any given morning, this is how Jaxson and I start the day --

"Jax, you want milk or orange juice with breakfast?"

"Milk! Milk, Mommy, milk."

"Okay." (reaching for the milk)

"Orange Juice! Orange Juice Mommy!"

"You want orange juice?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"No orange juice, Mommy, milk!"

"Which is it Jax, orange juice or milk?"

"Yes."

Can't talk now. Busy being a Failure.

Seriously, I'm slaving away here at being the worst mom ever, so much so that I don't even have time to list all the ways I've completely sucked at Mom-dom this week. Who knows, maybe Diarrhea Dude will take a break between squirts to sleep and I can write more then. Or not.

Little Woman

Sorry about the absence. Last week took the wind out of my sails and I needed some time to decompress. And disconnect. Seriously-- no computer, no tv. I think I've spent so much time worshipping at the alter of that false idol, I thought it would be harder than it was. But whaddya know -- I ended up waking up to my life, doing a lot of soul searching, and recommitting myself to the important things in life.

Don't get me wrong -- I have dvr, I'm not really missing anything. (Now if I could only figure out a way to get to watch those recorded shows before 10 pm each night...)


It sounds like I've had some sort of lobotomy, I know, so lest you start calling wondering whether or not Zombies really are back and have taken over my body, let me show you what's keeping me uplifted and excited about the everyday details that would normally bore &/or disgust me:



( I got mine for $20!!) EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED OR NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT HOUSEKEEPING IS IN THIS BOOK. If you haven't read it, you need to. Shawn even reads it, though mostly just where it talks about tools and the garage. But still.


Not to mention, almost every cleaning product they suggest you use is a cheap, inexpensive household item, and most of the techniques they use are good for the environment.

I swear, it makes me want to go out and be a Home Ec teacher. Me.


Plus, I get to wear these while I clean:


Ninny bought matching "Domestic Diva's" aprons for me and Ry, and I just scored this one on eBay:









Apparently, I'm the last homemaker in America to discover Jessie Steele. I hear her aprons have been featured on Oprah's Favorite Things (and Desperate Housewives), which explains why I'm out of the loop, seeing as how I am fundamentally against watching her Favorite Things shows. It causes too much envy. I'm jealous enough as it is. The added pressure would be too much.


Anyway, I love love love wearing these, but I know a lot of you aren't as sickeningly 1953 as ! am, so perhaps you'd enjoy something a bit more contemporary, more sarcastic, eh? May we suggest:


Not as sexy, but just as much sass!!

Speaking of ubiquitous emails...

You Know You Grew Up In the 80's if:
1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word SIKE.
2. You can sing the rap to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and can do the Carlton. ("...chillin' out maxin', relaxin all cool and all shootin some b-ball outside of the school...")
3. You know that 'WOAH' comes from Joey on Blossom
4. If you ever watched 'Fraggle Rock'
5. It was actually worth getting up early on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
6. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head.
7. You got super-excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
8. You made your mom buy one of those clips that would hold your shirt in a knot on the side.
9. You played the game 'MASH'(Mansion, Apartment, Shelter, House)
10. You wore stonewashed Jordache jean jackets and were proud of it.
11. You know the profound meaning of ' WAX ON , WAX OFF' (I still do this when I'm cleaning. Miagi would be so proud.)
12. You wanted to be a Goonie. (I still do, and now so does Ryan.)
13. You ever wore fluorescent clothing. (some of us...head-to-toe)
14. You can remember what Michael Jackson looked like before his nose fell off and his cheeks shifted.
15. You have ever pondered why Smurfette was the only female smurf. (and why she had a closet full of the same dress.)
16. You took lunch boxes to school...and traded Garbage Pailkids in the schoolyard.
17. You remember the CRAZE, then the BANNING of slap bracelets. ( I think I might still have some scars)
18. You still get the urge to say 'NOT' after every sentence. Not.
19. You thought your childhood friends would never leave because you exchanged handmade friendship bracelets.
20. You ever owned a pair of Jelly-Shoes.
21. After you saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure you kept saying 'I know you are, but what am I?'
22. You remember 'I've fallen and I can't get up'
24. You remember going to the skating rink before there were inline skates.
25. You have ever played with a Skip-It (I think I might still have the ankle bruises to prove it.)
26. You remember boom boxes and walking around with one on your shoulder like you were all that.
27. You remember watching both Gremlins movies.
28. You thought Doogie Howser/Samantha Micelli were hot. (umhmm, KIRK CAMERON)
29. You remember Alf, the wise-crackin' lil furry brown alien from Melmac.
30. You remember New Kids on the Block when they were cool...and don't even flinch when people refer to them as 'NKOTB'.
31. You knew all the characters names and their life stories on 'Saved By The Bell,' The ORIGINAL class.
32. You know all the words to Bon Jovi - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART.
33. You just sang those words to yourself.
34. You still sing 'We are the World'
35. You tight rolled your jeans.
36. You owned a bannana clip. (and wore it to prom...)
37. You remember 'Where's the Beef?'
38. You used to (and probably still do) say 'What you talkin' 'bout Willis?'
39. You're still singing 'Shot Through the Heart' in your head, aren't you?

How did this kid get so cool?

Ryan's class has been studying the skeletal system this week.

Today in the car, she asks me if I know what the strongest bone in the body is.

"No," I say. "What bone is the strongest?"

"The upper leg bone."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Do you know what the strongest point on your body is?"

"Umm, your skull?"

(Which way to go with this????) "No, not your skull, but close. Your elbow is the strongest point on your body," I say, reciting word-for-word that ubiquitous email I keep getting, "so if anyone ever tries to hurt you or take you, you just ram it into them as hard as you can. But only as self-defense -- not on your brother or if you get mad at one of your friends, okay?"



"Yeah, I don't ever wanna hit another kid, 'cause my friend Randy in my class, you know, my friend from Camp Doublecreek, well he's my friend and he's like the biggest kid in Kindergarten, so I'd just go get him if someone was being mean to me, and he'd use his big ole elbow on them. It's a good thing his cast is off now, or that elbow would be wasted."



It's just so funny watching her personality peek out as she's growing more independent of us. I bought her some clear glasses for her "Elphaba at the Ozdust Ballroom" costume, and she's been wearing them ever since, on the condition that she won't try to tell people that they're real. That's been fun. I actually use them as a motivator to do homework, telling her she can put on her dress-up cape and pretend she's Hermione studying at Hogwarts.



This morning when I dropped her off at school, I started to let her out farther down the drive than where the safety patrol kids are stationed, and she immediately shouted, "No! I want to get out up there, where they open your door. It's like I'm in a limo."



Reality is going to hit so hard one day.

Get Your Gal On

About a year ago or so, Mindy over at The Mommy Blog introduced me to Design-Her Gals, and since then it's become one of Ryan's favorite things to do; picking out your gal, dressing her up, dressing her down...she loves it.

A while back I remember Mindy posting about the Gal-to-Gal walk, I even remember mentioning it to a fellow parishioner who is currently fighting Breast Cancer, but I don't remember if I ever mentioned it to you guys, so here it is: go to www.galtogalwalk.org, create your Gal, donate your $3, and let's get walking, people!!

Ryan and I are gonna get our Gals going tonight, which sends shivers anticipation up and down my spine -- last time we "designed", Ryan created herself as a beautiful little black bridesmaid with a poodle. I can't wait to see what she does this time, though judging from her current Hannah Montana obsession, something tells me we'll be seeing boots and a pageboy cap somewhere in the mix.

**OOH, I almost forgot -- it's not just for girls!! They've added men and boys, too!

hmmrgghhphhffssstt

Apologizing for the lull. Jax has been sick and sleepless this past week, and thus my brain has taken a leave of absence. Talk amongst yourselves.