Wednesday, March 28, 2007

More on Sanjaya: the Idol that shouldn't be...

He does seem like a sweet kid and I hate to pick on him but... cm'on! It's like that chicken guy last season... *sigh*

These people I'm going to quote really need a life though!
"So until the day that Sanjya is no longer American Idol, I will be going on a hunger strike. This means I will refuse to eat anything until American Idol voters wise up, and stop voting Sanjya through each week"

Starvation for Sanjaya

A must see for American Idol Fans

ROFL!!!
So, who do you want gone tonight?

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Things I never thought I'd say...

OK so I like to be really honest with my kids. My 9yo has a very healthy understanding of the birds and the bees. He guided us to how much and when he should know. After I had heard some things at school my mom reluctantly rented me the basic "Where Did I Come From?" VHS that I had asked for for about 5 years by then. My mom, who typically took 5 minute showers took one that lasted exactly 32min. What a coincidence since the movie was 32min! She came out beat red, wouldn't maintain eye contact and said, "Do you have any questions? No? Good!" That, my friends, was my intro to the birds and the bees. I think I was like 14! The rest sadly I had to learn hands on. Hmmmmmmm no wonder I was pregnant at 17. :-/

All this to say I promised myself when I had kids I would be honest, upfront, and let them lead the pace as far as how much knowledge we give. One night I sent my 9yo to my husband for information (ya know, the whole man-to-man thing) to answer some questions he'd been having. I listened in and I had to intervene when I heard my husband saying something along the lines of, "When 2 people get married they sleep together and the baby fairy comes and..." Oh. My. Stars. He did NOT just go there. We don't do Santa Claus but we're going to start baby fairies? I couldn't do that to my son. He trusted us, is looking to us for the right answers, not just the answers that are easy. So, we talked for hours that night and he really gets it, and the specialness of it as well.

OK so "I dun good" with one, that counts right? So lemme move on....

I've taught my kids the anatomically correct terms for their private.s. I have a lot of friends, whom I adore (do y'all recognize a disclaimer there?) that have a colorful array of odd words for their children. Po, bo-bo, noonie, etc... Very creative and it always makes me chuckle. But we've always been a black-and-white-here's-what-it-is family. It's made for some embarrassing situation in public, "MOMMMMMMMMMMMM my $*&%& itches!!!" Definately not as cute as "my wee-wee" but we lived.

So, I figured I'd just be perfectly honest, all the time when it comes to anything to do with human s.e.x.uality, unlike my mother.

HA! What happened is that the more and more children I have my resolve began to weaken. I held on at first but I knew I was a goner when the kids kept saying loudly, "That tickles my -enter body part here-" as we drove over our favorite bump in the road. (We call it "the bump" and it's my Great Plains children's version of a rollercoaster.) I started to get paranoid that they'd repeat that easily misunderstood phrase somewhere in public, where childless people were waiting to call us in to the Men in Black. So, I tried gingerly at first, "Guys, that's not your (#*$(&, it's your stomach that's tickling." They didn't buy it. They said it was lower than their stomach. So then I had a lightbulb moment. The next time we went over The Bump I said happily, "ooooooh that tickled my kidney!" It worked! Kidney was a new word for most of them, my 9yo knows I'm weird but he usually just plays along. But now, everytime we go on The Bump my 3yo & 5yo squeal, "Whooooooooooooo that tickled my kidney!!!" Works for me!

OK, this last thing I think would qualify me for that Bad Mother of the Week award. I can't help it, my moms genes are STRONG people! My defense system has to rest sometimes! So, my 3yo innocently comes up to me one day, we had been going over this "Good Hugs, Bad Hugs" book that we go over with all the kids at various stages in their life. Knowing they have authority over their own body is important to us and they need to know it's NOT OK for anyone to abuse them. Not that they're ever not by our side but... So, my 3yo comes over to me and says sweetly, "Mommy? If I touch a boys *#$*), will I die?" OK, will it help not to flame me if I told you I think my great grandmother possessed my body at that moment and made me answer the way I did? *sigh* I didn't think so. I told her very matter-of-factly, "Why yes, yes honey you would" Wow that sounds so much more warped after I wrote it down. LOL I looked for signs that she thought she was going to meet her demise but she just happily skipped away. *whew*

OK so my cute little blue-eyed blonde will either remain celibant for life, or become a les.bian.

Raising kids is not easy alright? So tell me what cutesy colorful terms do y'all use on your kids. It always amuses me endlessly. I think bo-bo is my favorite to say outloud.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Those damn leprechauns!

I made this really warped video for y'all to enjoy. For St. Patricks Day we slipped a little green food coloring in the milk jug and I captured great photos of the kids expression when they opened the fridge. My 5yo's response after I suggested that maybe the Leprechauns visited during the night was, "Gross! Leprechauns P.E.E.D. in our milk?!"

So, take a trip in my demented mind. LOL



(if it doesn't work - try again in a few minutes - I just uploaded it and I'm running out the door)

Sunday, March 18, 2007

The prettiest vase ever

OK - I think I have to start handing out pamphlets to everyone I meet. No, not the "Where Will You Go When You Die" sort - I'm more of a I'm-not-perfect-just-forgiven-praise-God-for-Grace type of Christian. I'm talking about a warning letter of sorts, or maybe a right-to-release form that informs them that anything they do, say, or even think in front of me could be and probably will be (esp if it's embarrassing) blogged by yours truly. It will be embellished, told from my warped angle, and there for all the world (well OK, my 7 readers) to see. I did go ahead and warn the woman that told me this story that she, most likely, will be my next victim subject. But she's real cool, and I found out last night, has a strong ornery streak so I'm sure she can handle it. I'm going to call her Blondie for reasons that will be quite clear by the end of the story. ;-)

Blondie is an avid horse lover. She owns at least one (I believe 2) and rides often. One day (years ago) she was riding along in the great state of Texas, along a major road. She spotted something glinting in the sun and got off her horse to inspect it. She was thrilled to find, in her words, "The most beautiful blue vase I'd had ever seen". She picked it up, was excited that it didn't seem broken and got back on her horse. She demonstrated how she held it away from her body and the horse to keep it from breaking because it was thin. She was kind of holding it out, as you would to display something. After a tedious ride home, protecting her precious new find she yelled for her husband to come out of their home. He came over to her and she asked if he'd take the vase so she was sure it wouldn't break while she got off her horse. He took it and when she got off the horse she noticed he was laughing. Perplexed she asked what in the world was so funny and he asked her if she knew what this was. She told him it was the prettiest blue vase she'd ever seen and she was going to clean it out and use it. He laughed even harder and asked her to smell it. She said it smelled like cigars - she'd wash it out and it would be fine. Finally he's laughing so hard he can barely speak and he tells her what she so carefully brought home was not a vase. It was rather a very beautiful, thin, blue, bong. She was riding down a major road holding, for all the world to see, a bong! BWAAAHAHAHAHAHA! She says to this day when they pass a florist her husbands asks if she'd like a blue vase. ;-)

LOL!!! Oh man I love you Blondie, thanks for the great laughs last night - she's full of great stories like that. It was a fun cookout! lol

Friday, March 16, 2007

What are they teaching these kids here?!

A token of his (hillbilly) affection

My 9yo runs into the house from outside and says, "Mom, I made something for you!" I tell him to wait one second while I finish the dishes and he goes to wait outside. This usually inantimate child is BUBBLING with anticipation as I come outside to see, what could possibly get him so riled up to show me. I follow him behind the laundry shed where I see a heart, carefully drawn (by liquid) in the sandy dirt back there. I'm a loser so my first words were, "Where'd you get the water? Did you bring the cup back inside" Yeah, I know - but I'd just spent an hour collecting silverware from the air/heating ducts and cups from the bathtub and so forth so cut me some slack. His little face falls a little and he seems hesitant to answer. I started to ask again, "Honey, where did you get the wa----Oh. That's not water is it son?"

"No, it's p.e.e - I had to go really bad and couldn't hold it so I made a heart for you!" He was back to full happy animation again.

Er, um. I fought EVERY bit of my mothers city-girl blood I have in me and I swallowed hard. I envisioned my child on a psychiatrists couch one day talking about how mean and unappreciative I am. So, I grit my teeth in a perma-smile and said, "Oh, that's really sweet honey. But next time, if you absolutely have to go outdoors, could you go in the corner or something?" "OK mom". And he runs off playing, happy and oblivious to my inner turmoil.

Please tell me my child will not be proposing to his girlfriend one day colorfully in the snow?

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

The hauntings of Abuela

There is a dear, dear woman in DH's family that I didn't get to know as much as I'd have liked to. Mostly because she didn't speak a lick of English. For awhile I wrote her updates on our family and letters of encouragement and prayer and had them translated online. They probably said something to the effect of "Your goat is doing well the cheese is growing fast, me love you long time" but my MIL, who is fluent in both Spanish and English, said they were worded correctly.

When she passed on it was really hard for my husband. His family followed the Matriach structure and when his Abuela moved in with them she ruled the roost most of the time. She had the final say. The kids thought of her as "base" because when mama was pissed off they just ran into Abuelas room and hid behind a chair where she overrode mama's authority. I couldn't do that but it's a different culture and Abuela helped them selflessly so my MIL could fully support her 4 kids.

OK so let's get to the funny snarky stuff shall we? DH's family is er, well, very amusing. I love them to death and they're the big family I always wished I had but the drama and torture and craziness - wow! My head spins sometimes while I'm there. I'm known as the quiet one. Well OK, I'm known as the big bre@sted quiet one if you want to just be frank here. These people talk about bre@st and pen!s size while we're chowing down on pirogi and kielbasi - it's just WRONG! OK, I'm getting off tangent again.

So after dear Abuela died, (to be loved and adored and called "dear" even after beating the kids with a frying pan is quite a woman lemme tell ya), his Cuban-Irish-Polish-Italian (somehow each side is VERY deep in their roots) family started relaying stories about how Abuela had been haunting them. One sister is convinced Abuela keeps turning up her thermostat. Another says she misplaces things. My MIL talks to her in a box in the spare bedroom.

Yesterday we found out the reason we didn't have water pressure in the kitchen for a few days was because the valve under the sink was shut off. The plumber said he had to use a wrench to put it back on. Neither DH or I remembers doing it. The kids physically couldn't do it. The mice, although conniving little bastards couldn't get their little rodent paws around it. So, I joked to DH that maybe Abuela did it. Dead people make convenient scapegoats! We had a good laugh.

DH told his mom today what we said about Abuela. She said, dead serious, "I'll see if I can talk to her about leaving you guys alone".

Maybe Abuela enlisted Elvis's help because you'd have to be mighty strong to shut that valve off. I'm sorry but if I'm in heaven worshipping the Lord and I take a break to shut my grandsons hot water valve off, I don't think God would find that amusing. Or maybe He would, maybe He'd help. Who knows.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

It's happened. It's official.

I've turned into my mother. I could cry.

I'm not talking about the sing-me-to-sleep or hold-my-hand-while-driving attributes my mother had. Oh no, I don't mind her passing those on at all. Thankfully, to the other extreme I'm not talking about the 1am wake-up calls "there's a storm and the big oak tree by your window could fall in and kill you so come into the hall, hurry" either. Or the "honey, if I stop breathing call 911 and be sure to tell them I was having chest pains OK?", that was always good for my 12yo security.. Then there's my favorite, "Page me at 9pm so if this date is awful I can use you as an excuse.", didn't take that from her either.

But there's one I have, just today, incorporated into my parenting that I'm mortified to admit. I haven't even told her yet because I don't want to hear her gloat that I've gotten desperate enough to stoop to her level. She will cackle with glee which is actually quite fitting because what I passed on to my kids today was The Witches House.

When I was a little girl and my mom couldn't get me to listen she must have gotten desperate to cling to any semblance of control and she used the very ominious threat of - dan dah dah - The Witches House. . It was a little old gray delapitated house we had to pass every time she took me home from my grandmas house. She'd drive agonizingly slooooooowwwwww as she passed saying she was going to drop me off there.

I had actually blacked it out forgotten all about this trauma until recently when my mom called me excited from work. She left a message on my answering machine beside herself with glee because there was another woman at work that mentioned she threatens to take her son to the witches house. Great, I thought. Psycho-ness loves company. I called her a child torturer and hung up. Well, OK so I called her a child torturer then asked her for her meat sauce recipe then hung up. Logistics!

My middle son is oh, how do you say, a TERROR. I shouldn't label but well, he just is. And he's taken to not listening to me AT ALL. The other day I thought I was making real progress when I used my firm but calm voice, looked him in the eye, and told him to get dressed. He started to do the dog thumping (picture when you scratch the right spot on a dog and they thump their legs - that's how my middle son throws a tantrum!). But then, in mid thump he got up and just obeyed! Wow, I was pretty good I thought to myself until I noticed DH was standing behind me. All DH has to do is look at middle son and he complies. DH has this Fidel Castro thing going on and most kids will listen to him. Hell, most adults do too. So, I've grown increasingly frustrated and I'm at a loss on how to deal with my middle son. And Supernanny just 'aint helping.

We're in the car driving and I watch in the rearview as Middle Son hits my Little Daughter repeatidly on the head. After saying Go Go Smackdown Arm in my best Inspector Gadget voice didn't work I tried talking to him. He has some smart ass comment to say back. It's getting worse and let's face it, this kid is going to be BIGGER than me one day so I need to establish pecking order now. But he calls my bluff constantly and it just leaves me flabbergasted.

OK so here it is. We're driving and I'm at a complete loss. I don't have a cell phone so I can't threaten to call my husband, The Enforcer. My go-go arms aren't working. It wouldn't be ethical to hire my 9yo to smack him. So, before I even knew what I was saying the words came out of my mouth. "Middle Son, if you don't behave & buckle your seatbelt I'm bringing you to (dah dah dah) The Witches House!" The car was dead silent for a moment. I was busy giving the People's Elbow to my subconscious for even letting those blasted words leave my mouth. How do you say something you didn't even think? Yikes!

The words were out there. I could see the older kids conspiring and sure enough they were trying to throw in their 2 cents before mommy could be rational enough to put an end to it all. But then Middle Son challenged me. "No you're not - you can't bring me there - I won't go. And I won't buckle YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!". I may be an adult but if you mock me, or challenge my authority when you are under it you're not going to win. Especially when this 5yo cute little dimpled child turns into a stocky well built bratty teen - It won't be cute anymore.

So, I started brainstorming. I took a different way home and all the way Middle Son was talking Smack. I finally found a run down house with a For Sale sign in front of it and pulled over in front of it. As soon as the car stopped I heard, *click*. "I'm buckled now!". Yeah, a nice mom would have said "great" and moved on but I had a rough day. And I had been challenged by him daily for weeks. I wasn't giving in that easy.

"Cm'on Middle Son, we're here. She'll call me to come get you when you're ready to be kind and behave the way I know you can". He stopped smiling but he's way too defiant to let on that he was scared. At this point my oldest son chimed in with, "If you don't listen to her she'll hit you with her broomstick!" Yeah, brotherly love at it's finest. I looked in the back and he started to look a little panicky. I asked if he was ready to listen to me and to treat everyone kindly like we treated him (OK - like we treated him BEFORE this particular car ride). He nodded his head and we drove the last block to our house. It was nice to have some sort of control again, even if I had to stoop to desperate levels.

All in all I did not become exactly like my mom (although I do understand her a bit more). The Witches House will not become a crutch for me. While Middle Son was getting ready for bed I gave him a big hug and assured him I would never drop him off anywhere, that I loved him too much. I think he knew all along. He smiled his coy little knowing smile and said he loved me too. I think orneriness respects orneriness so we're beginning to understand each other a little more. ;-)

Oh that kid, the greatest challenges sometimes bring the greatest rewards.

I'm officially retiring The Witches House but my older kids say there's one in every city so look out. ;-)

Sunday, March 11, 2007

I know this is juvenile but...

I thought this was so funny I had to rewind and pause and take a picture to share. Cm'on, regress with me!

It's a still from American Idol with subtitles because I can never hear a darn thing in my house.



- Click on it for full size -

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Chicken Fried Crazy

Yeah OK so I'm a Yankee transplant, a happily transplanted Yank btw. The ironic thing is I've developed thicker skin living down here than I did back North. I was quite often in the fetal position crying my eyes out back home. Recently DH and I heard that the common Southern saying, Bless your heart actually means You're an idiot. We're slowly getting "the code".

Anyway, I use many non politically correct terms from time to time and one of them is hillbilly. I've become a rather happy one myself as I eluded to in an earlier post. So, what am I blabbering about?

The kids and I went shopping tonight. We were all tired and I didn't feel like doing a ton of dishes and I swear the tv dinner aisle was glowing when we walked by. I heard a Hallejuiah chorus in my head as my kids said, "What about these!?" pointing to the $1 tv dinners. SCORE! So, 3 corn dog, 1 chicken nugget, 1 fried chicken dinner for the Mr, & one chicken fried beef steak for me. Wait a second did I just buy something country fried? Wow, it's subliminal now - you southerners are good!

OK so there's a free bowling game on my daughters chicken strip meal. Nothing on most of the others. Except for mine. What sweepstakes do you think was advertised on my chicken fried steak?



Now as I said before I'm not very PC but cm'on people, Nascar, RV's, only on the chicken fried steak box? Even I'm embarrassed! LOL

Well, gotta go - I've got to enter! ROFL

Nerd Radio

I mean this most affectionately for all you hammers out there. If you think I'm making fun of heavy people (I'm one of them) then you have no idea what I'm talking about. Ham (or Amateur) radio, affectionately dubbed as "nerd radio" by me has taken over my house. My house is full of wires and homemade antennas which goes very well with my trailer trash decor. Goes great with busted storm door leaning against the front of the house for the world to see. Anyway, every other weekend it seems there is a nerd radio event. Back when I could see my feet I was really into CB radio and DH knows that so he keeps trying to get me excited about Nerd Radio too. Resistance is futile, I know that but so far, pretending I have forgotten how to speak English has bought me some time. I told him I was hypnotized as a child and anytime someone says the word "radio" I turn into a Puerto Rican woman from the 18th Century - no comprende.

Why am I so narrow minded about the Nerd Radio stuff? I'm really being sarcastic, that's what this blog is about, an outlet for the snarky inner me that usually has to shut up and be good. I do realize how cool it is but it's much more fun to call it Nerd Radio to get my husbands goat. ;-) There's something awesome about a form of communication that can't go down, even in the most dire of emergencies. In fact, people count on the Hammers in situations like the Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina. And my husband can't wait to wrassle-sum-tornada's (storm chase) this spring. So I'm losing the point, something I frequently do so get used to it now. :0/ I'm simply narrow minded because it's fun. And it's secretely all an act since I respect the hobby but if you tell my husband I will drop my children off at your front porch the next time we have a stomach virus.

Living in a Ham House is like being part of some secret (predominantly male) club. Sometimes strange men just stop by and speak in letters. Once our pizza guy kept DH at the front door for 20 minutes talking about his new ham license while I was hiding in the kitchen in my PJ's S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G at like 2am. And the next time we ordered late the man brought his radio to show off! One time we were eating breakfast out, minding our own business and DH had his mini-nerd-radio with him (his excuse was we needed to know the weather - ha!). All of a sudden a cop came to our table and I did a quick kid count to make sure we weren't missing any (kidding!) but it turns out he too was a hammer and in fact he's become quite chummy with my hubster. Hey, it's always handy to have a cop friend right? lol

Honestly, all sarcasm aside (I know, what fun is that?), these are a great and respectful group of men and women. But it's still nerdy. Pwwfftttttttttttt!

Besides, there's no other hobby where I'd be proud when DH's friends call me a "good ham wife" rofl.

JLynn

Friday, March 9, 2007

Here I am!

A little about me. I'm a mom of many - 5 last time I checked. DH and I started young so we've done quite a bit of growing up with our kids and sometimes I think they're a little more mature than us (but don't tell them that). Honestly I'm still trying to figure out who I am. For a long time I was who I thought everyone wanted me to be. Well, everybody but my husband, I took all the crap and dumped it on him. But he's stuck around and we have gotten through some great highs and some crappy lows. But we're still on this wild ride together - and we're buckled in so neither one of us can bail. Oh and if he did try and bail he'd have to pay so much damn alimony and child support he'd be living in a cardboard box. But I believe him when he says he stays because he loves me. And we love our family. Sometimes we're Leave it To Beaver, sometimes we're Ned Flanders , and sometimes we're a little too much Family Guy for even my taste! But I promise you one thing. We're entertaining. We are trying to do the best we can with the knowledge we have, and lots of prayer. And you know what? It's working out great so far.

Don't run away. Our weirdness isn't contagious, it's hereditary!