So it's been a doozy of a month. Lots going on, lots of changes! Kindergarten has started (year-round school), so we've been organizing and filing paperwork and buying cemetary plots. Just kidding--everyone knows I want to be cremated.
There is also quite a language explosion (so much more pleasant than the usual explosions that we get!!!) going on, and certain people have learned lots of new words that Mommy would rather not hear, and some new words that I can't get enough of. Note: We haven't mastered personal pronouns yet.
Most of these you hear during the course of a day...over and over and over again:
"Mommy! Too loud!" (Usually when I'm doing dishes and she's sitting at the kitchen table.)
"Jaaaaaaaaaack! Sit right there." (Usually when Jack is running around and she wants his toys.)
"Sydney needs medicine." (Right after Dan screams, "What is wrong with you kids!?")
"Where are Sydney's sun glasses?" (Immediately upon entering the house.)
"Can Sydney have chewies?" (Immediately upon entering the house.)
"Dinah ate it." (After we ask her where her food went. This is also usually a lie.)
"Naked Sydney!!!" (Waaaaaay too often.)
"You're welcome for my food!" (After dinner.)
"Sydney don't like pajamas." (Bedtime, EVERY NIGHT.)
"Su-Su...where are you?" (Whenever she is admonished for anything. Sometimes it's Pop-Pop she's looking for. Often she has to settle for Jack.)
"DAMMAT!" (Whenever anyone drops something.)
"Awww man!" (After I yell at her not to say 'dammit.')
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Online Shopping
Me, looking at an Amereican Apparel ad: Who wears bodysuits?!
Jack: Uh...Daddy?
Me, showing Jack sneakers on Zappos: These are cool, do you like these?
Jack: Oh yeah, they're strimpy!
Me: Strimpy?
Jack: Yeah, you know, really awesome.
Me: Um...do you mean 'pimpy'?
Jack: YES.
Jack: Uh...Daddy?
Me, showing Jack sneakers on Zappos: These are cool, do you like these?
Jack: Oh yeah, they're strimpy!
Me: Strimpy?
Jack: Yeah, you know, really awesome.
Me: Um...do you mean 'pimpy'?
Jack: YES.
Yarr...me favrits!
Random list of things that make my face crack:
- Neon nail polish
- kisses (especially from babies)
- When it rains during my run
- When two unexpected good things happen in a row, like today when I found awesome left-overs in the fridge that I had forgotten about for my lunch and I found my favorite belt that had been lost for 5 months.
- Buying a new book
- Navy and white striped shirts, which I adore even though they tend to make me look like a pirate
- Playing board games by my own (often superior) made-up rules
- Concert tickets!
- When someone else puts my laundry away
- Visitors!
- Pretty much anything with sequins
- The beach
- Nobilo!
- When things work the first time
- Naps!
- Yummy-smelling shampoo
- Sparkly eyeliner
- Oysters!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
QUOTES
When I was in college, I used to keep a mental list of the funny things that my roommate said (which were even FUNNIER taken out of context) and then write them to her in notes to cheer her up before exams/after breakups/during hangovers. I never quite lost that tendency, although my memory doesn't work as well as it used to so now I have to write them down.
Here are ones that survived my holey brain (thanks mostly to Allison and iNotes):
"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF THE BATHROOM!"
"...especially because I LOVE clams, and I HATE sausage!"
"There is a remote chance that you are mildly confused."
"This is NOT delicious."
"I wonder if this is what the parents of kids born with the wrong biology feel like..."
"Reminder: You are not a boy."
"You need to use UrbanDictionary.com. I cannot, in good conscience, explain this to you."
"I don't know what's going on in my mouth right now."
"At this point, you could pour it all over me, I'm so wet."
"Oh yeah? Do you want to compare butt puddles?"
"It wasn't as thick and creamy as I wanted."
"I have to tuck it in if I want to keep it."
"Basically the only normal thing about me is my pap-smear."
"I don't want it to squirt in your face...or mine!"
Here are ones that survived my holey brain (thanks mostly to Allison and iNotes):
"YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF THE BATHROOM!"
"...especially because I LOVE clams, and I HATE sausage!"
"There is a remote chance that you are mildly confused."
"This is NOT delicious."
"I wonder if this is what the parents of kids born with the wrong biology feel like..."
"Reminder: You are not a boy."
"You need to use UrbanDictionary.com. I cannot, in good conscience, explain this to you."
"I don't know what's going on in my mouth right now."
"At this point, you could pour it all over me, I'm so wet."
"Oh yeah? Do you want to compare butt puddles?"
"It wasn't as thick and creamy as I wanted."
"I have to tuck it in if I want to keep it."
"Basically the only normal thing about me is my pap-smear."
"I don't want it to squirt in your face...or mine!"
Monday, June 6, 2011
Baby you're a firework.
After arriving home from the beach we had our Colorado friends' families over to visit while they are here on the East coast with their 800 sons. OK, they only have three, but that is quite enough.
To keep the 5-year old boys in line, I promised that we could light fireworks later that evening IF THEY WERE WELL BEHAVED.
(Like boys are ever "well" behaved.)
They were not horrible, so we ended up shooting some of the bottle rockets off in the backyard, and then let the boys do sparklers.
As Jack held his sparkler infront of a group of 8 visiting, OLDER adults, he giggled in delight. Then, as the sparkler fizzled closer to his hand he exlaimed, "hey...this is FUCKING BURNING!"
Crickets chirped.
"What did you say?" I asked him, desperately trying not to laugh.
"I said," he slowly repeated with a very adult-like raised eyebrow, "that this is fucking burning!"
(I secretly was waiting for the "...man!")
The adults gasped.
I chomped my face.
I explained that that wasn't a great word to use, and it made some people upset, so it's better just to not say it at all.
"Anyway...where did you hear that?" I asked.
"Daddy says it all of the fucking time!"
No I'm just kidding. I couldn't resist.
What he really said: "Daddy says it all of the time!"
To keep the 5-year old boys in line, I promised that we could light fireworks later that evening IF THEY WERE WELL BEHAVED.
(Like boys are ever "well" behaved.)
They were not horrible, so we ended up shooting some of the bottle rockets off in the backyard, and then let the boys do sparklers.
As Jack held his sparkler infront of a group of 8 visiting, OLDER adults, he giggled in delight. Then, as the sparkler fizzled closer to his hand he exlaimed, "hey...this is FUCKING BURNING!"
Crickets chirped.
"What did you say?" I asked him, desperately trying not to laugh.
"I said," he slowly repeated with a very adult-like raised eyebrow, "that this is fucking burning!"
(I secretly was waiting for the "...man!")
The adults gasped.
I chomped my face.
I explained that that wasn't a great word to use, and it made some people upset, so it's better just to not say it at all.
"Anyway...where did you hear that?" I asked.
"Daddy says it all of the fucking time!"
No I'm just kidding. I couldn't resist.
What he really said: "Daddy says it all of the time!"
All of it.
So we went to the beach. With another family: one small mother, one large father, two 1-year old BOY twins, and a 5-year old clone of Jack. Luckily we were smart enough to hire a nanny for the week to watch a portion of this mangy group of children so we could sit on the beach in semi-peace and pretend to be adults that still have fun and don't scream at people. At least in public.
All in all we had an AMAZING time. It was the best vacation I've had in 6 years. Swimming, football, bocci, sunbathing, seafood, beers, board games, dogs; it was awesome.
Upon our arrival home, Jack's grandparents were here visiting from out of town. He was elated to end his week of vacation in their presence. They had also brought with them an incredible gift.
Backstory: Jack loves Legos. He tries to talk Dan and I into taking him to the store to buy a new box of them every weekend without fail. He squirrels away any coin he finds into his piggy bank, saving up to invariably BUY MORE LEGOS. He already has three shoe-box sized bins full of them. Maybe four. I can't keep track of them unless it's by stepping on them in the dark, in which case I would estimate that he has about 4 billion.
So anyway, Grandma and Grandpa bestow upon him his ultimate Lego dream: an enormous box of them that contain the components of the mega-huge police station. This thing has a guard dog, bad guys, two police vehicles and a whole several-story police facility complete with garage bays with sliding doors AND cell blocks that ALSO HAVE SLIDING DOORS. (The Legos I grew up playing with are Amish in comparison to this shit.)
As promised, I helped Jack begin construction on the police megastructure tonight. He could barely contain himself in his excitement to get this thing put together. He's usually pretty adept at following the instructions, but I had promised him to throw it all together quickly so he could play tiny-man-incarceration.
I'm leafing through the end of the booklet, making sure that I've completed the steps on one of the pages when I notice a (typically) bizarre activity occurring in my peripheral vision. I look up to see Jack excitedly squeezing/groping his chest.
I stopped and stared.
"Uhhh...what are you doing to yourself there?" I asked him.
"Pinching myself!" He squealed, unable to sit still.
"Uhhh...where exactly are you pinching yourself?" My voice getting higher.
"MY NIPPLES!" He screamed.
I lost it. Construction was halted--to resume tomorrow night.
All in all we had an AMAZING time. It was the best vacation I've had in 6 years. Swimming, football, bocci, sunbathing, seafood, beers, board games, dogs; it was awesome.
Upon our arrival home, Jack's grandparents were here visiting from out of town. He was elated to end his week of vacation in their presence. They had also brought with them an incredible gift.
Backstory: Jack loves Legos. He tries to talk Dan and I into taking him to the store to buy a new box of them every weekend without fail. He squirrels away any coin he finds into his piggy bank, saving up to invariably BUY MORE LEGOS. He already has three shoe-box sized bins full of them. Maybe four. I can't keep track of them unless it's by stepping on them in the dark, in which case I would estimate that he has about 4 billion.
So anyway, Grandma and Grandpa bestow upon him his ultimate Lego dream: an enormous box of them that contain the components of the mega-huge police station. This thing has a guard dog, bad guys, two police vehicles and a whole several-story police facility complete with garage bays with sliding doors AND cell blocks that ALSO HAVE SLIDING DOORS. (The Legos I grew up playing with are Amish in comparison to this shit.)
As promised, I helped Jack begin construction on the police megastructure tonight. He could barely contain himself in his excitement to get this thing put together. He's usually pretty adept at following the instructions, but I had promised him to throw it all together quickly so he could play tiny-man-incarceration.
I'm leafing through the end of the booklet, making sure that I've completed the steps on one of the pages when I notice a (typically) bizarre activity occurring in my peripheral vision. I look up to see Jack excitedly squeezing/groping his chest.
I stopped and stared.
"Uhhh...what are you doing to yourself there?" I asked him.
"Pinching myself!" He squealed, unable to sit still.
"Uhhh...where exactly are you pinching yourself?" My voice getting higher.
"MY NIPPLES!" He screamed.
I lost it. Construction was halted--to resume tomorrow night.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Televishon
So tonight as we finished our Friday evening pizza, we debated on what to watch on television after dinner. Dan voted for G.I. Joe. I voted for Spongebob Squarepants. Sydney voted for 10 more slices of pizza. Jack paused, and tapping his chin, says:
"You know, I'd really like to watch that program about the cowboy guy...you know, the one who is a good guy, and has the adventures."
Dan and I look at each other.
"Crocodile Dundee?" I ask.
"Uhh, no. I don't think that's who I'm talking about," says Jack.
"Well...does he ride a horse?" I ask.
"No. Actually this cowboy mostly rides airplanes. And he has that circle rope thingy."
"A lasso?!" I ask, excitedly.
"Uhh, no. I don't think that it's called a lasso. It's makes a noise. It's loud."
"Does he live on a farm?" Dan asks.
"Nooo, he works at a college."
My jaw falls open. I'm starting to wonder if this was one of his dreams.
"Is he a cartoon?" I'm rapid-firing here.
"No."
"Do you see him after a certain program here?"
"No...I think I've only seen him at Susu's house."
Dan and I are stumped.
(Aside: Anyone who knows me will tell you that my mind is not unlike the jaw of a locking-jaw dog. Once I hear a riddle, joke, problem, I cannot let it go. CANNOT.)
(Another aside: Apparently locking jaws are a myth! I did not know that they weren't legit. I've have actually had a pit bull clamp down on a toy and drag me around the yard like a deflated balloon on a string. So surprised. But anyway, learn something new, and around here usually also something gross, everyday.)
I'm throwing everything out there. He-Man. Quigley Down Under. Garth Brooks. No avail.
"I totally know who he's talking about." Dan announces after a few minutes.
I look at him voraciously.
He waits a beat, just to torture me.
"Is it Indiana Jones?" Dan asks.
"YES!" Jack and I scream in unison.
Friday night is made.
"You know, I'd really like to watch that program about the cowboy guy...you know, the one who is a good guy, and has the adventures."
Dan and I look at each other.
"Crocodile Dundee?" I ask.
"Uhh, no. I don't think that's who I'm talking about," says Jack.
"Well...does he ride a horse?" I ask.
"No. Actually this cowboy mostly rides airplanes. And he has that circle rope thingy."
"A lasso?!" I ask, excitedly.
"Uhh, no. I don't think that it's called a lasso. It's makes a noise. It's loud."
"Does he live on a farm?" Dan asks.
"Nooo, he works at a college."
My jaw falls open. I'm starting to wonder if this was one of his dreams.
"Is he a cartoon?" I'm rapid-firing here.
"No."
"Do you see him after a certain program here?"
"No...I think I've only seen him at Susu's house."
Dan and I are stumped.
(Aside: Anyone who knows me will tell you that my mind is not unlike the jaw of a locking-jaw dog. Once I hear a riddle, joke, problem, I cannot let it go. CANNOT.)
(Another aside: Apparently locking jaws are a myth! I did not know that they weren't legit. I've have actually had a pit bull clamp down on a toy and drag me around the yard like a deflated balloon on a string. So surprised. But anyway, learn something new, and around here usually also something gross, everyday.)
I'm throwing everything out there. He-Man. Quigley Down Under. Garth Brooks. No avail.
"I totally know who he's talking about." Dan announces after a few minutes.
I look at him voraciously.
He waits a beat, just to torture me.
"Is it Indiana Jones?" Dan asks.
"YES!" Jack and I scream in unison.
Friday night is made.
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