Posts Tagged ‘Children’

Pardon The Interruption….

April 19, 2011

Years ago, the children were ensconced at the table eating a snack-good time to head to the Head.  “Eat your snack. I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be out in 5 minutes. Do not disturb unless it’s an emergency.”  I ran into the bathroom, jumped in the shower,  and kicked it into gear to get my whole self clean in five minutes.  I was a pro from back in my boarding school days when five minutes was sometimes all the time we had, and then the hot water would run out. 

2 minutes in, the door bursts open.  “Mom is this purple?” It was Whirling Dervish holding up a skirt.

“REALLY?!  Did we forget that Mommy said “Do NOT disturb!”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Is someone concussed?”

“No.”

“Is someone bleeding? Does someone have a limb off?”

“No.  But Momma is this purple?”

“REALLY???!!! Please close the door on your way out.”

I guess I should be happy, she was outside the shower. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had gotten in there with me. Whirling liked to invade my personal space-a “close talker” a la Jerry Seinfeld.  Her usual M.O. was to wait until I was in the bathroom and then come in and step so close to me that she would be standing in my under garments. yes, IN, my underwear.  And it wasn’t as if she was coming to tell me the kitchen was on fire or anything.  She just wanted to chat.  Mind you she had absolutely NOTHING to say to me while I was not in the bathroom.  I guess her mind got rolling as soon as I sat down on the can.   I would have to politely ask her to back up out of my draws and out of the bathroom.  And off she would go, inevitably leaving the bathroom door wide open, leaving me fully exposed for all the world to see.  And she wasn’t the only one.  Her siblings were just as bad. I got asked all sorts of stuff in the water closet. Can I transform the Transformer back?  Momma, can you get the pony tail out of Barbie’s hair?  Mom, can you sign my permission slip?  Can you get this knot out of my sneaker? And so it went. For years.

My youngest is now 8, so I thought I was done with the interruptions.  They still do it from time to time, but for the most part, they stay out, at least until I turn the water off in the shower or flush the toilet to barge in. Some times tey wait until I have finished brushing my teeth to ask me a question or talk to me.  But no.  Now there’s a new interloper in our midst. Butter Face cometh.

My dog has become the Bathroom Bandit. It doesn’t matter what bathroom I’m in or what floor he’s on. He makes his  way to the bathroom heads on in.  He just opens the door all the way and waltzes right in.  He walks right up to me, looks up, as if to say, “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Then he sniffs my shoes, does his doggy circling ritual and then lays down on the rug. And stares.  I don’t know about y’all, but it’s hard to concentrate with the beast ogling me from below, peeping at me underneath my reading material.

I guess I should be thankful, he doesn’t ask me to deknot his bone.

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Boy Logic…..

March 31, 2011

MiniMe in the MiniMan Cave

My 13 year-old son, MiniMe, has recently taken to spouting boy logic, his twist on things.  His utterings seem perfectly rational to him. Me, not so much.  Is  boy logic the definition of oxymoron? Absolutely. So, here was today’s little tidbit, after I told him his efforts at cleaning his room were less than stellar.  “But Mom,” he starts–I had to ask him to wait until I swallowed my coffee before sharing so that the coffee wouldn’t come out of my nose.  I start backing up in the kitchen as he’s walking up on me…..

Mom, it’s like a new car getting dirty for the first time. He smiles a wicked little grin, the wheels in that head turning…..

“Really, how’s that son?”

A new car is shiny, the wood grain dash is buffed and glowing, the carpet pristine.  Then the kids get in.  Juice boxes, baby puke, Cheerios, ice cream, muddy shoes, french fries, you know, kid gunk.

“uh,hunh.” I’m still backing up, nostrils flaring, trying not to laugh.

And then you get the car cleaned.  But is every really the same?  I mean REALLY? No more new car smell, the carpet’s forever stained, the windows are forever smudged with boogers and fingerprints. Clean as you might, there’s still dirt and french fries EVERYWHERE-“

“And soooooo….” The laughing has started and I can see where it’s going. 

Why bother?  I’m mean really, Mom!  That room’s had two other kids in there BEFORE me.  And me and Number1Son together at some point too! The new room smell is long gone.  Soooooooo looooong gone.

 Still laughing, tears welling.

He’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat, all proud of himself, “hunh, hunh, right? Right?  You know I’m right mom.”

Hmmmm. Well, he does have a point.  Boy logic might have some validity after all.  But I’ll never tell him that because his room looks and smells like a  dead goat exploded in there.  He’s 13, ‘nough said.

“Thank you son, for that morsel of wisdom.  Clean up your room, and for God’s sake and everyone else’s, open the windows. Yes, I know it’s 40 degrees outside, put some socks on, you’ll be alright.”

Mommy Logic wins out EVERY time.

-Logically Speaking at the Edge

Pinkified……..

March 30, 2011

Glamour Rayz is the essence of girly.  The pinker, shinier, the frillier, or sparklier(making up words, yes.), THE better. Whirling Dervish was once like her sister, and in fact started out über pinky with pink undies, pink socks, pink shoes, pink shirt, you get the idea. But now WD is girly in a funky sort of way, tom boy with pizzazz.  I, having been a tom boy growing up, and still am in a lot of ways, have had to get in touch with my inner Pink. Woo.

Believing that everyone should embrace pink the way she does, from time to time Glamour will strike, catching her victims unaware, inflicting her pinkness on anyone or anything in her path…..

The poor blue M&M had done nothing to deserve this. He didn’t stand a chance.

Last Sunday, she caught Butter Face.  He didn’t know what hit him.  After the carnage wrought by Glamour’s birthday party last weekend (see 8 Year Olds post, please), Big Daddy and I had parked it in the livingroom to continue our marathon of March Madness viewing.  Glamour skips by, down the hall to her room, then shoots back by on her way downstairs.  She gives me a quick, “Doot, duh, doot, doot, doo, hey Mom,” in her Mini Mouse voice. “Hey, chicken” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the TV.

A few minutes later, Butter Face the Wonder Dog, comes sauntering down the hallway. I see a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye,  and my mouth drops open.  Big Daddy looks over, “No she didn’t.”

My poor dog.  The look on his face was one of utter disgust. He walked in and laid down as if to say, “WHY, why does she treat me so? Please put me out of my misery.”

So watch yourself, she may be lurking.  She might bat those eyelashes to draw you near. and Wham! You’ve been pinkified….

Condiments and Sauces, etc…..

March 27, 2011

Never mind keeping track of what people are allergic to or not in my house, I have to worry about who eats what condiments, sauce, yogurt,etc…. Pay attention, there will be a quiz at the end.

Big Daddy:  Hellman’s mayo only, Miracle whip is the devil’s food.  banana peppers, toasted bread-if eating bread, no blood on the plate with the beef, but will eat carpaccio.  American cheese over cheddar on the sandwich.  No couscous because, “it tastes like air.” eggs over pancakes.  Veggies,  veggies, and more veggies.  Meat, meat, and more meat.  fruit, some desserts, but not many. Tea.  No coffee unless its frou-frou.  Ranch dressing.

MiniMe: No salad dressing of any kind.  No condiments on the sandwich, BBQ sauce on everything else.  Lettuce, tomatoes only on sanwiches-not in salads.  Butter on sandwiches, no mayo. Orange juice.  plain milk makes him gag, scrambles eggs, never boiled. Oatmeal. Pancakes.  No fruit-on-the bottom yogurt-must be pre-blended.  Spinach, preferably creamed and most veggies. HAM! Shrimp. Loves sweet potatoes, but will eat white potatoes.  Prefers Alfredo sauce over tomato sauce, but will eat them mixed or separate, doesn’t care.  Previously didn’t like onions, not will eat them on a sandwich.  Will eat plain cabbage  and raw potatoes.  Gravy on the meat, but not the starch. Now likes spicy foods.  Motto: If not nailed down, it will be eaten.

Whirling Dervish: Nothing with a weird texture-No oatmeal, pudding, and only some smoothies. Baked potatoes, no sweet potatoes.  Meat! No fish other than how Grandpa Poppy makes it (fried).  Gluten-free diet.  Rice gives her headaches.  Boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, but favorite are fried but is not a breakfast eater. Milk.  Will eat deviled eggs without paprika.  No nuts, but likes peanut butter.  Prefers Alfredo sauce over tomato sauce, will eat pink sauce. White Bean Soup is favorite.  No shrimp.  Yogurt prefered from a tube, rather than a container.  Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Corn in any form. No spinach, creamed or otherwise. Gravy on the starch, sometimes the meat. Beans.

Glamour Rayz:  The tangier the better.  Dill pickles by the jar.  Boiled eggs, but only the whites, but will eat deviled eggs.  Baked potato, but no skin on it. Makes her own pesto sauce.  No Alfredo sauce, but will eat tomato or Pink sauce. No crusts ont he sandwiches. Prefers chocolate milk.  Cheeseburgers plain.  Hot dogs with no bun.  Gravy on meat and starch.  Has a sweet tooth.  Syrup and powdered sugar on the waffles.  Likes spicy stuff.  No peas, will tolerate green beans.  Salad either plain or with Italian dressing depending on the mood.  Likes ice in all drinks.

Butter Face (Wonder Dog): Certain lins of dog treats give him bubbly guts. Shoes, but prefers the most smelly of them. Dead stuff from the yard.  Grass. Unattended coffe, but akes him jittery.  Butter (hence the name). Steals food, but prefers, fat, meat. Motto:  Please see MiniMe entry for reference.

And this is what I CAN remember…..Check please!

-Saucy at the Edge

Kind and Decent……

March 22, 2011

I went to pick up MiniMe from a birthday party last week, and the mother of the birthday girl commented on how polite, well-mannered, and nice he is.  I thanked her, quietly chuckling to myself, thinking, of course he is, he knows better. I guess because we expect our children to act right in public, we’re used to it. We expect them to, in the words of Jamie Foxx and his grandmother, “…Act like you got some sense…act like you’ve been somewhere.”

They do act crazy when they’re home, and they do drive each other insane on the regular, but as long as they pull it together out in public, we’re all good. If not, there are consequences that they do not get to choose, so think twice when making choices, and use good judgement.

Don’t embarrass the family is one of the few rules we have at the Edge. We set this expectation early on and for the most part, the young super heroes have met and exceeded that expectation.

When I was in parent-teacher conferences last week and the first thing out every single teacher’s mouth that I met with “Your child is a wonderful human being….,” my heart swelled with pride. Yes, of course the grades are important, but who they are, how they behave, and how they treat people, are just as important, if not more so. And while we always shoot for perfection, we explain that no one is perfect. What we are shooting for is independent, responsible human beings that are kind and decent people who will eventually make pos.

So far, so good.  And it’s nice to know that other folks see it too.

Does This Look Even????

April 20, 2010

There are certain activities where siblings following in each others’ footsteps is a GOOD thing; Olympians, Supreme Court justices, Nobel Prize winners, Astronauts.  There are other activities where the following in the foot steps things is not such a great idea at all. No, not so much.  Number1Son set the bar pretty high with his little foray into self-grooming, shaven head and all. Whirling Dervish and Glamour Rayz were the next to follow in their big brother’s footsteps.

Whirling Dervish has a head of whirling tight little corkscrew curls.  Hair-taming is always a contentious time on the Edge.  WD has even devised plans to avoid me so that I won’t brush the hair, preferring to look like an electrified troll doll and potentially suffer ridicule from her classmates than deal with her brush-wielding mother. Although she is getting better with age, quite a few tears have been shed over the years.  Glamour Rayz has curls too, but hers are bigger and only slightly less rogue than her sisters.

Glamour Rayz actually did a very nice job trimming her hair to the point where I almost didn’t notice (she had hit me with the 200-watt smile and the big doe eyes which threw me off a bit).  While pleased with her steady hand, I did impress upon her that there are professionals that cut hair and that she should stick to cutting paper so as not to remove an eye, or anyone else’s for that matter.  And yes, that qualifier about trimming other people’s hair needed to be mentioned….I know my daughter and I really didn’t want to have to call some child’s parents to tell them that GR had given them an asymmetrical ‘do.

When WD marched down this ritual path of self-trimming, she didn’t understand that her hair is longer, much, much longer, when it’s wet.  Imagine her surprise (and mine) when as her hair dried, it shrunk into its mop of tightly wound springs, leaving her, not with the row of bangs that she cut just above her brow line, but a row of pillow fringe that was sticking straight out like her own personal awning.

In an wacky coincidence, Whirling was, as her brother years before, due to walk down the aisle at a wedding in a fortnight. What IS it with my kids, haircutting, and weddings????

Did a lot of praying that the awning would grow to an acceptable length before the big day.  Alas, every last one of the hair gods was on vaca and out of cell phone range.  On the big day, I tried mousse, but the baby curls were running amok.  Added some hairspray. No dice. Had to pull out old school big guns and lay on some extra strength Dippity Do. That stuff could slick a baby hair down to within an inch of its life.  And Presto! Between the mousse, the hairspray and the “Do,” Whirling was shinier  the groom’s rental shoes and looked like I had rubbed the front of her head with a pound on bacon and topped it with some shellac for good measure.

I sat in the audience and as my Princess Whirling came down the aisle, all shiny and glazed, I hoped that the photographer’s photos would not be overexposed from the light reflecting off my daughter’s head.

But, my baby looked wonderful.More importantly…I WON! I beat down the errant curls.

Four kids, three hair cuts down.  it’s only a matter of time…

Bring it on, Mini-me, Bring it on!

And So It Begins…..

November 13, 2009

It’s a rainy Friday afternoon and I decided to finally stop fartin’ around and start my blog.  It’s a scary sort of committment, but I’m all in, ’cause I’ve got something to say and am vain enough to think others might want to read about it.

So, a little background information.  I am happy to say that I turned 40 last month and have earned every one of the gray hairs I have recently found.  I have been with my husband for 15 years, married for 13 of them and have four beautiful and wonderful (at this moment) children, not including the 4th grader that I am carrying around my midriff. 

I am wicked stepmother to a teenage son (Number1), an 11 year-old son (Mini-Me), a 9 year-old daughter (Whirling Dervish), and a 6 year-old daughter(Glamour Rays).  I work full-time, and according to my husband, volunteer too much.  We are scheduled to the hilt with activites out the wahzoo and have the usual concerns; work, money, school, money, home, money, discipline, money, stress, money, health, etc… To round out the fun and merriment, we have a fantastic network of family and friends, and a very well-stocked bar.

Needless to say there is quite a bit of fodder in all aspects of my life and I wanted to share in hopes that someone might get some amusement from it all. And so, I blog.


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