Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
3. His wounds still require sensitivity. This is a kid who will rip the bandages off the worst scrapes after 20 minutes, declaring them "all better". But will he let us take these little band aids off? Not a chance.
4. This evening on the way home from dinner, Jason and I were trying to distract Ava and Nate from some petty conflict they were having. "Let's have a contest!" I said. (Ava, you see, loves to win and is a sucker for any contest) "Let's see who can be sweetest to the other person." They were at a loss. I waited. I prompted. "Okay, why don't each of you tell what you like most about the other?" This went on for a few minutes, with some help from us, and then we arrived at the house. We all went in and I kind of forgot the whole thing. I was busy doing all the stuff around the house that you get busy with after dinner and before kid bedtime. An hour later, Ava walked over to Nate with a card she'd made him. She read it to him, it talked about how strong and smart he was. "Wow, Ava--that was really kind of you," I said, kind of surprised. She looked up at me with an intent expression. "So, who wins?"
Contemplating the problem is worse than the problem lotsa times, isn't it? See, I can be philosophical.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
What about you? You saw it, didn't you? Did you like it? The "problem" definitely holds true for Jason and I. He thought the movie was vaguely amusing but overall, kinda dumb. I thought it was achingly hilarious and evocative of so many people I knew in high school. Plus, it has a llama named Tina. If that's not comedy gold, I don't know what is.
So in honor of Napoleon, who got my daughter through most of her meals this week, I offer a sampling of some of the funniest lines, courtesy of IMDb. They have been making me laugh to myself all week, which has gotten me some strange looks while out and about.
Napoleon Dynamite: Stay home and eat all the freakin' chips, Kip.
Kip: Napoleon, don't be jealous that I've been chatting online with babes all day. Besides, we both know that I'm training to be a cage fighter.
Napoleon Dynamite: Since when, Kip? You have the worst reflexes of all time.
Kip: Try and hit me, Napoleon.
Napoleon Dynamite: What?
Kip: I said come down here and see what happens if you try and hit me
Trisha: I wanted to thank you for the beautiful drawing you did of me.
[through gritted teeth]
Trisha: It's hanging in my *bedroom*.
Napoleon Dynamite: Really? It took me like three hours to finish the shading on your upper lip. It's probably the best drawing I've ever done.
Trisha: Yeah... it's really... neat.
Napoleon Dynamite: [referring to Deb's milk] I see you're drinking 1%. Is that 'cause you think you're fat? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole if you wanted to.
[Napoleon answers the door and Deb is standing out there]
Deb: Um, hello. Would you like to look like this?
[holds out a photo]
Napoleon Dynamite: [Napoleon takes the photo and looks at it] This is a girl.
Deb: [Deb continues nervously] Because for a limited time only, Glamour Shots by Deb are 75% off.
Napoleon Dynamite: I already get my hair cut at the Cuttin' Corral.
Deb: Well, maybe you'd be interested in some home-woven handicrafts?
[Scene continues after Rex Kwon Do TV ad Kip's watching]
Deb: ... And here we have some boondoggle key chains. A must-have for this season's fashion.
Napoleon Dynamite: I already made like infinity of those at scout camp.
Kid on Bus: What are you gonna do today, Napoleon?
Napoleon Dynamite: Whatever I feel like I wanna do. Gosh!
Comedy. Gold. Get if from Netflix if you don't believe me. Clearly I have no voice and too much time on my hands. At least Grace understands me. Have a great weekend, everybody!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
"This guy from Optus is gonna call you and ask why we switched. I gave him your number. Sorry!! Had to get rid of him." And his reply? "Okay, love. No worries." What is not to love about this man? I think he puts up with me because I'm such a good speller and I correct all his typos.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Grace is a bit too shy to say it herself, but she's pretty sweet on y'all.
Did you do anything special? Jason and the kids brought me breakfast in bed, which was lovely. It's always a bit nerve wracking, though--watching the kids teeter through the door holding a plate full of hot food. So that adds a shot of adrenaline to the morning! After that, we were pretty busy getting ready for church, and I have to confess that I didn't even have a card for Jason.
What? Don't look at me like that. I still use the line, "Your gifts are these three adorable children that I painfully struggled to bring into the world. You're welcome." Yeah, I'm thinking I have a few more years' worth of mileage out of that one.
Don't worry. I'll make it up to him! Cards and chocolate ain't exactly his love language, if you know what I'm sayin'. (You do know what I'm sayin', right? I was trying to be subtle. It's so tricky.)
You guys have a great day. Be sweet to each other!
Oh, and congrats to my cousin Patrick who got engaged yesterday! Some of you know Pat, and if you want to read about the very Pat-like way he proposed, go here. Mwah!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
A train ride was the selling point of the whole endeavor. It's about a 40 minute ride from our local station to Central, and for about half of that time, riding on a train is the most funnest thing ever conceived of in the mind of man.
Then it becomes wretched drudgery that we are cruelly inflicting on our children. How many more stops left? Are we there yet? Why did you make us take the train and not our car?
and this freaky clown game that I will see in my nightmares tonight.
I know. Terrifying, right? Oh, and get this!
Rats. Sheesh. Everywhere I go. So apparently, Chinese culture is getting in on the act now and tormenting me, too. Do you know what it feels like to be mocked by, like, a billion people? Thanks, China!
So, let's see...what else happened? There was a group of people protesting against the Church of Scientology outside the train station, and I got to explain to Ava what a protest is and what Scientology is. That took some skillz. There was a nice-enough young guy next to me on the train who kept trying to get Grace to grab his finger and then wanted to hold her. (I pretended not to notice when he put out his hands. Look, I know I have an adorable baby who smiles at everyone, and I know she is like a ray of golden sunshine into the lives of others. But a mom's gotta draw the line somewhere, and a stranger holding her on a train seems like a good place to me.) Oh, and also the diaper bag tumbled off the stroller into a busy intersection and I said a swear word. I don't think the kids heard though--their sugar high was causing the blood to rush through their ears. Phew.
And that was our big day out. Highs, lows, trains, noodles, fun, me cussing, mud, chasing pigeons
and so, so, SO much more.
Happy Chinese New Year! It's the year of the tiger.
Ni hao and stuff!
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Me: Babe, could you get the tuna out of the pantry for me before you go?
Jason: Sure. Have you still not gone into the pantry?
Me: No. Well, yeah. I opened the door really quick yesterday to get some diapers out. But I could do it without actually walking in there. So I don't know if that counts.
Jason: Babe, you're gonna have to go in there eventually. All our food is in there.
Me: No, I don't. And they sell more food, you know.
Jason: Why don't you get the tuna with me? We'll go in there together. (Note: To his credit, his tone is only slightly condescending here.)
Me: No! I will eventually, okay? I just don't want to right now. I had a bad experience. (Note: We are always quoting that line from The Italian Job. Have you seen it? Where Mos Def's character says to Mark Wahlberg's character: "I don't do dogs. I had. a bad. experience."
Isn't that amusing? Our house is full of such witticisms and tomfoolery!)
Me: Can you just please get the tuna? I mean, do you realize that I get nervous opening, like, any cabinet in our house right now? I can't deal with the pantry yet!
Jason: Okay. I just think you're gonna have to take some baby steps toward working on this at some point.
(This makes me think of "baby steps" from What About Bob? but I'll spare you.)
You see, I know I'm going overboard about something when Jason starts to get all pastor-y on me. You know, counsel-y. His tone gets very calm and he says things like, "Your fear is real, but it isn't rational." And, "I know you're upset, but you're letting one isolated event cloud your whole perspective." Oooo! Mr. "affirm the emotions but point out the inconsistencies"! His eyes will be all full of compassion and he'll start troubleshooting. And I'll be all, wait a minute! I know what you're doing! You're pastoring me! I'm being counseled, aren't I?
(I am qualified to recognize this, you see. Because I have a bachelor's degree. In Psychology. Yes.)
And of course he's right, which makes it all the more annoying. That same evening, I was opening the drawer under our oven to get a baking sheet. As I pulled the drawer open, the pans in it shifted and made a clanking noise. I jumped in the air, and before I knew it, had slammed the door shut with my foot. Today I was driving, and something I had in a plastic bag on the front seat, fell to one side in the bag. I gasped and had to pull over and look in the bag and under the seat "just to make sure". I literally startled at my own shadow the other day. Maybe I'm starting to crack up. Do you think I'm starting to crack up? I think I'm starting to crack up.
So, make me feel better. What irrational thing heebie jeebies you? Doesn't have to be a rodent or bug issue. I know a person who is freaked out by feet. Doesn't like looking at feet, talking about them and definitely doesn't like them touching her. I also have a minor thing about koi fish. They were always in the pond outside my pediatrician's office when I was a kid, so now I associate them with feeling sick. When I see them, I always feel vaguely icky.
Well, I feel a little sheepish. I swear, in other areas I am, like, ultra-rational. So, so reasonable. So, spill it. What freaks you out?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
For instance. Today Jason and I were at the mall with Nate and Grace. We went to buy a vacuum. That's not the subject of this post, but dang. Buying a vacuum is a much more complex scenario than it used to be. Power heads, rotary brushes, bagless, HEPA filters, suction, carpet, tile, upright. Good grief. I now know way more about vacuum-ology than I ever wanted to. After we finally made the decision, I felt like I needed to go lie down for awhile. Such vacuum angst! But about the T-shirt. So we're sitting in the food court and this middle aged guy walks by pushing a toddler in a stroller. His T-shirt said, "When I become God, everybody dies."
And I was all, Really? That's how you're gonna finish that sentence? I mean, I can appreciate the humor of sentiments I don't necessarily agree with. But not only is that one vaguely stupid and weird, it's not even funny. Sir, you should get your money back for that shirt. Cause it doesn't even make sense. I mean, if you wanna say something, try harder, for pete's sake.
Like this, for instance.
Have you seen this website? They sell these as shirts or posters. Hilarious. If dude wants to wear a T-shirt that is in your face and somewhat abrasive, he could at least make it witty.
I like this one:
If we're going to be snarky and mean-spirited in our T-shirt wearing, let's all be a little more creative, okay? That is all I ask.
P.S. And here's another one. Is he looking at me?
Do you have any favorites? Or any awful-shirt-sightings?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Nate has discovered the classic little brother move: wait till Ava gets up from the chair to go to the bathroom or whatever, and then take her spot. So now, Ava is afraid to get out of the chair: whether it's to eat, get dressed for school, pee. She asks me to bring her things, because if she gets up "then Nate will steal the chair". I accommodate her sometimes, but I'm gonna have to draw the line at a catheter so she doesn't have to go potty. It's like those environmental activists who live in trees to protest deforestation or something. They have food passed up to them in buckets and wear the same Guatemalan-style embroidered vest and cargo pants for six months. No matter what happens, they ain't coming down.
(It's not really much like that, is it?)
This morning, after listening to The Great Chair Debate, Part 37, I'd had it. (You may remember that I happen to be a little emotionally fragile right now.)I marched into the living room with Grace on my hip as they were watching morning cartoons. I turned off the TV. Gasp! Did Mom just turn off Fifi and the Flowertots? This means it's serious.
"Alright, both of you look at me. Natey, look at my eyes. I am really, really tired of listening to you argue about the rocking chair. You are both big kids now. You need to figure out a way to take turns. And if you don't, then guess who gets to sit in the chair? ME. Cause actually? It's my chair in the first place. Got that? One more arguing word about it and your rocking chair days are done."
Gosh that felt good! Wielding power over those smaller and more helpless than you are feels real awesome, doesn't it? I mean, isn't that why you become a parent in the first place? To give ultimatums and feel important? No? Just me, then? Oh.
A few minutes later I looked in the living room and saw this.
Besides noting their TV-glazed eyes, observe the power and beauty of compromise. Everybody's happy. You see a thing like that and wonder why the US Senate can't hammer out a deal on health care reform. For example.
Of course, this particular compromise lasted about ten minutes till somebody had to pee. Then it was back to the negotiating table. You see a thing like that and understand why the US Senate can't hammer out a deal on health care reform. There's just one dang chair and everybody wants it for themselves.
P.S. About that other thing: Not a lot of new stuff to report. No new dramas, either,so maybe we've plugged the last hole. Jason had a heart to heart with the exterminator yesterday, so hopefully I won't have to move to another state and change my name.
Friday, February 5, 2010
So right after I posted the update last night, I sat in our living room with my feet tucked under me and waited for Jason to come home. (Incidentally, my neighbor Jules, who reads this blog, emailed me this morning to check on me and said she thought she heard a scream, but thought it was one of the kids. So that gives you an idea of my volume!) So Jason came home within about ten minutes. He came in, sat down beside me and said, "Are you okay?" And then I promptly burst into tears. Like a little girl. A wee, little, crybaby crying girl. Do you ever have those experiences? Where your reaction to an event is completely disproportionate and irrational? You know that it's irrational, but you still feel how you do. It's like the rational, realistic side of me is watching the blubbering, snotty me. And the rational me says, "Amy, this rat is not going to hurt you or the kids. It can't hurt you or the kids. You will deal with this. It will be okay." And the blubbering me grabs the rational me by the collar and shakes her, saying,"Shut up! Can't you see I'm freaking out here? This is the most awfulest day ever on the whole planet and I cannot live in this house anymore!!!"
Do you ever do that? Yeah, anyway. It wasn't my most mature moment.
So, I've mentioned before that we have a massive pantry, and after some investigation last night, Jason determined how the *creature* is getting in. There is a pipe that comes through the back wall and there is a little space between the sheetrock and the pipe. So they're not actually living in the pantry, but there is a way in from outside. Jason left a trap last night, and sure enough in the morning, there was one less rat left standing. Jason called the rental agency first thing this morning. They've already sent someone out several days ago, but obviously there is still an issue. "Tell them that your wife is about to lose it!" I told him. "Tell them that I am nearly phobic! Tell them I am looking at other houses for rent! Make me sound like a total nutcase if you have to!" He nodded and said soothing words, like you do when you're talking to a total nutcase. I don't think it would be a hard sell at this point.
So that's the update, Beck. The hole is barricaded, the exterminator has been called, and I am calmer now. Slightly. But I still won't go in the pantry. Jason said, "But what if there's something in there that you need today?" And I said, "Then I will go to the grocery store and buy it." He nodded and said soothing words.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Lately, it's his prayers that are getting us. We pray for the kids at bedtime and Nate has started praying outloud after we leave his room. It's so funny though--he is having a total conversation. He talks to God and then pauses to listen, then talks some more, then pauses and responds.
A couple of weeks ago, right after we got back from our trip, we switched on the monitor and heard Nate say in a tearful voice, "God? Can I have a puppy?" (Pause.) "God, I'd weally, weally like a puppy. Can I have one--please?" There was another pause then he said, "Thank you."
My eyebrows shot up as I looked at Jason. "Did the Lord just tell him he could have a puppy?" Cause I don't really want a puppy, y'all. To be quite honest, there is enough poop around here that I am charged with cleaning up and I'm really not interested in adding more to that, um, load. Can we start with a goldfish?
But if the Lord has indeed spoken, He ain't said anything to me yet. I don't want to be like Pharoah, so hardened that God sent plague after plague until he relented and let the Israelites go. But I figure if God told Nate he could have a puppy that He'll let me in on that fact as well.
Wait a minute. Plagues. Do you think this is why we've had our rodent problem of late? Is the Lord sending plagues to deal with my disobedience? Holy Moses!
Nate never said anything to us about his conversation with God. So let's hope that he's moved on to something else. In the meantime, unless a few thousand locusts come knocking on the door, I don't think we're getting a puppy anytime soon.
And now an update that you will not stinking believe: I promise you, just now, not five minutes after I hit "Publish Post", I got up and went to the pantry to get something out. And, ewwwww, I saw a blur of fur and a tail and y'all there was a freaking rat in my pantry. In my pantry in my pantry in my pantry. Of course, of course, Jason is out at a meeting tonight. I screamed and ran into the living room and jumped up and down. I just called Jason and he is on his way home and I promise you I am shaking. I know that's ridiculous. But there it is. I've closed off the kitchen and I don't think i will go in there again until all the rodents in Australia are dead. This is not funny anymore.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Not that I needed anything. But since when is that an impediment to a trip to Ikea? Sometimes you need things that you didn't know you needed. Mostly, I just like to stroll, look and see what's new, and avail myself of the hour of free childcare. There was some fun stuff to look at. And I got a new cheese grater! Wheee!
And if that weren't enough. I mean, look at these.
Could you die? Could? You? Die? How fantastic and fun are those? It's a new range of fabric called Annamoa. I stood at the display forever, looking at all the designs, talking to myself, and sort of cocking my head to the side like you do at an art museum. It was slightly pathetic, I'm sure. But I'm in love. "I'm in love and I don't care who knows it!"
(We've previously discussed how quotes from the movie "Elf" can enrich your life. And here is another fine example.)
Anyway, some of the examples shown above were sold out, natch. But I did snag this version.
The color in the photo isn't the greatest, but the fabric is really cute! I have some wooden frames that I'm gonna stretch the fabric over. And when I say "I", I mean "Jason". Then "I" am gonna hang it in our playroom. And then the house will be crushed under the weight of its own whimsy.
Some of you are reading this and thinking, I can't believe I just read a whole post about fabric. (Dad, I might be looking in your direction.) May I suggest that you scroll up and look at those photos again? And perhaps if your heart is still cold and hardened after that, you should rethink your priorities in life. Because who doesn't love pelicans and birdcages and giant crabs? Are you kidding me?
--You can read more about my ongoing relationship with Ikea here and here. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing.