While discussing the all-important Christmas list last week, Monkey Man told me he wanted the Spiderman Lego game for the Wii. I hadn't heard about this game, but I made a mental note and prepared to jot it down on my list. This child knows more than me on almost every topic, so I especially took his word for it about a video game and that there was indeed a Spiderman Lego game for the Wii.
When Hubby got home from work, I asked Monkey Man to tell his dad what he wanted. In addition to an electric guitar (Hells to the NO says Santa) he told him about the Spiderman Lego game for the Wii. Lego games for the Wii are popular around here and we are the proud owners of Lego Indiana Jones, Lego Star Wars, Lego Harry Potter, Lego Batman, Lego some other game that Mommy has no clue how to play because it involves strategy.
But Hubby didn't seem to know about this Spiderman game. So he asked Monkey Man if there was such a game. And Monkey Man's response? "I don't know, but the Elves can make it."
We told Monkey Man that the elves don't really make technological toys, they go to the store to buy those. What does he think, these little men with pointy ears who live in the North Pole and work for peanuts for a jolly fat man went to MIT? Who would believe THAT?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
On the 2nd Day of Thanksgiving...
Oh, and the 3rd day. Oops.
Day 2
Today I am thankful for Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi, preferably Pepsi, but honestly, I'll take whatever is on sale or in the vending machine. I don't drink coffee and I'm so tired that as soon as I get up in the morning I can't wait until it's 16 hours later and I can crawl right back into bed. That artificially sweet beverage is my special treat at lunchtime and I hug it like a baby with its blankie. I just wish it didn't look so weird when I curl up next to it in the Faculty room for my nappie.
Day 3
Today I am also thankful for mindless "reality" television. I am addicted to Real Housewives of New Jersey, New York, Beverly Hills, and Orange County. I also love me some Jersey Shore, in particular Paulie D and Vinnie. Everyone needs time to just sit in front of a TV and let their minds melt. I am also thankful that I have the courage to tell people that I actually watch these shows while so many walk around saying, "Oh, that's garbage. I don't watch that. I read books." Books. Yeah, yeah, we all read books. So, good for you. While you are boring your friends at parties with talk of Middle East nonsense, I am fighting back the beat and discussing at length whether one can be a Real Housewife when one is not married.
Day 2
Today I am thankful for Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi, preferably Pepsi, but honestly, I'll take whatever is on sale or in the vending machine. I don't drink coffee and I'm so tired that as soon as I get up in the morning I can't wait until it's 16 hours later and I can crawl right back into bed. That artificially sweet beverage is my special treat at lunchtime and I hug it like a baby with its blankie. I just wish it didn't look so weird when I curl up next to it in the Faculty room for my nappie.
Day 3
Today I am also thankful for mindless "reality" television. I am addicted to Real Housewives of New Jersey, New York, Beverly Hills, and Orange County. I also love me some Jersey Shore, in particular Paulie D and Vinnie. Everyone needs time to just sit in front of a TV and let their minds melt. I am also thankful that I have the courage to tell people that I actually watch these shows while so many walk around saying, "Oh, that's garbage. I don't watch that. I read books." Books. Yeah, yeah, we all read books. So, good for you. While you are boring your friends at parties with talk of Middle East nonsense, I am fighting back the beat and discussing at length whether one can be a Real Housewife when one is not married.
Monday, November 14, 2011
The 11 Days of Thanksgiving
Why 11 days? Because I meant to start this on November 1 and write something every day for which I am thankful and end on Thanksgiving. However, since I am 2 weeks late, you get 11 days.
Most everyone is thankful for the same kinds of things: family, children, spouses, the family pet, a job, a roof over their heads, blah, blah, blah. Don’t get me wrong, I am also grateful for those things. But that’s so borrring. There are lots of other things for which I am grateful, too. And I know you are dying to know what these are! I must add, these are in no particular order.
Day 1
I am thankful for pajamas. My perfect world would have us all living harmoniously together in colorful plaid pants, pajamas with stripes, polka dots, animals, and paired with a sweatshirt of some kind, preferably one that is well-loved with at least 10 years mileage on it. And yes, my perfect world would also have Rick Springfield romping around next to me in his most rockin' sleeping attire.
The moment I walk in the door from my day, my day meaning I had to go out into the public, I disappear into my room like Superman retreating into his phone booth, and appear moments later in some combination of super comfy pj bottoms and some top that usually never matches. I am sure Monkey Man will remember me fondly by telling people, “Yeah, my mom dressed like a slob and was lazy. Always in those pajamas.”
No matter the occupation, pajamas would be worn at Board meetings, in classrooms, while fighting crime, or ringing up groceries. Lawyers would try the world’s worst criminals in their finest sleepwear. Moms would gather with their children at the park all decked out in their pjs. Oh, how this would eliminate moms looking each other up and down like middle school girls! Unless they were totally jealous that they didn’t have the cupcakes on their pjs.
Most everyone is thankful for the same kinds of things: family, children, spouses, the family pet, a job, a roof over their heads, blah, blah, blah. Don’t get me wrong, I am also grateful for those things. But that’s so borrring. There are lots of other things for which I am grateful, too. And I know you are dying to know what these are! I must add, these are in no particular order.
Day 1
I am thankful for pajamas. My perfect world would have us all living harmoniously together in colorful plaid pants, pajamas with stripes, polka dots, animals, and paired with a sweatshirt of some kind, preferably one that is well-loved with at least 10 years mileage on it. And yes, my perfect world would also have Rick Springfield romping around next to me in his most rockin' sleeping attire.
The moment I walk in the door from my day, my day meaning I had to go out into the public, I disappear into my room like Superman retreating into his phone booth, and appear moments later in some combination of super comfy pj bottoms and some top that usually never matches. I am sure Monkey Man will remember me fondly by telling people, “Yeah, my mom dressed like a slob and was lazy. Always in those pajamas.”
No matter the occupation, pajamas would be worn at Board meetings, in classrooms, while fighting crime, or ringing up groceries. Lawyers would try the world’s worst criminals in their finest sleepwear. Moms would gather with their children at the park all decked out in their pjs. Oh, how this would eliminate moms looking each other up and down like middle school girls! Unless they were totally jealous that they didn’t have the cupcakes on their pjs.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Breaking Up is Hard to Do. Or Not.
While completing the nightly routine of shower, brush teeth, read and tickling his back, Monkey Man informed me of something. As he was lying in bed, getting in one last snuggle with the first woman in his life, he announced:
“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”
I looked at him, quizzically, and asked, “Today, in school?” I could barely even stutter those words as my head was spinning at the revelation that he had a girlfriend. But let’s take this in small bites, shall we?
“No, right now, in my head,” he answered, matter-of-factly. Like this was totally normal. But I guess to a 6 year-old, there was absolutely no oddity to this statement. After all, let us take a look at the courting:
Scene: Playground
As retold by Monkey Man: “Anna, Emily and Kate chased me around the playground and asked me to pick which one of them was my girlfriend. I picked Emily.” There you have it, a courtship rivaling that of centuries-old arranged marriages.
Regarding the breakup, I gave Monkey Man some motherly, womanly, HUMANE advice. “You might want to let her know tomorrow.”
“I will. I’ll tell her we are through,” he said, and added the visual of his hand, palm down, going across his neck. Geez, poor girl doesn’t stand a chance.
“That’s a little harsh,” I replied to his Sopranos-like break-up. “How about you tell her that you don’t think it’s going to work out? Maybe that you realized you don’t have much in common, like you see the cookies she eats during snack and you don’t like that kind. Or her taste in music is a little more Disney Channel than your taste in Def Leppard.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, good night,” he said, clearly fraught with worry about the looming real-life breakup he would be initiating tomorrow.
“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”
I looked at him, quizzically, and asked, “Today, in school?” I could barely even stutter those words as my head was spinning at the revelation that he had a girlfriend. But let’s take this in small bites, shall we?
“No, right now, in my head,” he answered, matter-of-factly. Like this was totally normal. But I guess to a 6 year-old, there was absolutely no oddity to this statement. After all, let us take a look at the courting:
Scene: Playground
As retold by Monkey Man: “Anna, Emily and Kate chased me around the playground and asked me to pick which one of them was my girlfriend. I picked Emily.” There you have it, a courtship rivaling that of centuries-old arranged marriages.
Regarding the breakup, I gave Monkey Man some motherly, womanly, HUMANE advice. “You might want to let her know tomorrow.”
“I will. I’ll tell her we are through,” he said, and added the visual of his hand, palm down, going across his neck. Geez, poor girl doesn’t stand a chance.
“That’s a little harsh,” I replied to his Sopranos-like break-up. “How about you tell her that you don’t think it’s going to work out? Maybe that you realized you don’t have much in common, like you see the cookies she eats during snack and you don’t like that kind. Or her taste in music is a little more Disney Channel than your taste in Def Leppard.”
“Yeah, I’m tired, good night,” he said, clearly fraught with worry about the looming real-life breakup he would be initiating tomorrow.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Memo From Mom
TO: School Administration
RE: First Grade = First Laundry Load
I propose you bring Home Economics back to school. And please start in First Grade. With just the boys. My reason? In the last week, I have washed 3 pairs of mud and grass-stained jeans, 1 brand new fuzzy fleece-lined hoodie decorated with splashes of lunchtime dirt, 1 pair of Converse that were once gray but are now green with hints of gray peeking through, and 1 pair of blue suede Vans with pieces of Earth wedged into the suede. This is all thanks to that all-important healthy part of the school day – recess. I don’t know what connection you have to the Tide Crime Family or The Stain Lifter That’s All Waste Management Company, but something’s up and I’m suspicious that this school of yours is a front. I think you have a landfill out near Newark Airport filled with filthy, ripped jeans.
I take great care in making sure Monkey Man looks nice for school. I iron his clothes. I blame it on my mother. She would not let my sister or me out of the house un-ironed. When I rebelled in college and went out all wrinkled and slovenly, she’d comment, “What’d ya have a fight with the iron?” I know. I was wild, out of control. Listen, woman, you can’t hold me back from experiencing life in all its crease-free craziness!
I not only iron Monkey Man’s clothes, but I make sure the clothes match. Then I look around at kids in school and most of them look like they slept in the hamper. I wonder why I put myself through the stress of shopping, and just plain trying. My little boy who I send to school in button-down “long-sleeve short-sleeve” shirts (as he calls them, those fake long sleeves under the short sleeves) and nice jeans, clean white socks and clean, well-maintained sneakers, is an absolute mess when he gets home. When I found out that he is getting this dirty at recess, my first thought was, “So you are sitting in school for almost 3 more hours after lunch time looking like THIS?” Why even bother combing his hair in the morning? Why bother getting dressed at all – just roll out of bed and keep those pj’s on. Hell, let’s not even waste time brushing teeth.
He comes home looking like the antithesis of my child because he loves to play football during recess. Translation: He and a bunch of boys throw a ball and tackle each other in the dirt while the adult supervision is off on the side of the field gossiping about what happened on Glee last night. I am a kind, smart mom and I do know that recess is important for his social development as well as his physical fitness. But, for the love of all mothers just trying to get ahead each night with the housework, teach these kids how to do the laundry.
RE: First Grade = First Laundry Load
I propose you bring Home Economics back to school. And please start in First Grade. With just the boys. My reason? In the last week, I have washed 3 pairs of mud and grass-stained jeans, 1 brand new fuzzy fleece-lined hoodie decorated with splashes of lunchtime dirt, 1 pair of Converse that were once gray but are now green with hints of gray peeking through, and 1 pair of blue suede Vans with pieces of Earth wedged into the suede. This is all thanks to that all-important healthy part of the school day – recess. I don’t know what connection you have to the Tide Crime Family or The Stain Lifter That’s All Waste Management Company, but something’s up and I’m suspicious that this school of yours is a front. I think you have a landfill out near Newark Airport filled with filthy, ripped jeans.
I take great care in making sure Monkey Man looks nice for school. I iron his clothes. I blame it on my mother. She would not let my sister or me out of the house un-ironed. When I rebelled in college and went out all wrinkled and slovenly, she’d comment, “What’d ya have a fight with the iron?” I know. I was wild, out of control. Listen, woman, you can’t hold me back from experiencing life in all its crease-free craziness!
I not only iron Monkey Man’s clothes, but I make sure the clothes match. Then I look around at kids in school and most of them look like they slept in the hamper. I wonder why I put myself through the stress of shopping, and just plain trying. My little boy who I send to school in button-down “long-sleeve short-sleeve” shirts (as he calls them, those fake long sleeves under the short sleeves) and nice jeans, clean white socks and clean, well-maintained sneakers, is an absolute mess when he gets home. When I found out that he is getting this dirty at recess, my first thought was, “So you are sitting in school for almost 3 more hours after lunch time looking like THIS?” Why even bother combing his hair in the morning? Why bother getting dressed at all – just roll out of bed and keep those pj’s on. Hell, let’s not even waste time brushing teeth.
He comes home looking like the antithesis of my child because he loves to play football during recess. Translation: He and a bunch of boys throw a ball and tackle each other in the dirt while the adult supervision is off on the side of the field gossiping about what happened on Glee last night. I am a kind, smart mom and I do know that recess is important for his social development as well as his physical fitness. But, for the love of all mothers just trying to get ahead each night with the housework, teach these kids how to do the laundry.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
October Observations
1. I have a mild obsession with men's novelty boxer shorts. Each time I pass the boxer short aisle in Target, I feel compelled to buy Hubby a pair of boxers to match the season. A look into his underwear drawer will reveal Snoopy heart boxers for Valentine's Day, decks of cards for Poker nights, shamrocks for St. Patty's Day, popsicles for the summer, dogs because we have a dog and I had no other reason than they were cute, and snowflakes for the God-awful season they call winter. I have my eye on a pair with bats for Halloween and I am sure that during one of my 12 trips to Target in the next 7 days, Hubby will be the proud owner.
2. Today, a gift from a friend fell and broke. I thought for a second how appropriate this event was in that it was symbolic of our friendship. Without going into details, I am sad that our friendship shattered. I consider myself to be a loyal friend, someone whom once I am your friend, I mean a real, true friend not just an acquaintance, I will always be your friend. I have several friends whom I have known for years, some going back to Kindergarten. Weeks and months go by when we don't talk, but we can pick right up where we left off without missing a beat. When I make new friends, I tread lightly, needing to develop genuine trust. But this friendship was different and when this gift broke, I simply felt like it was true to the friendship. It was nice, it was fragile - but then it fell apart.
3. I was so happy to rip September off of my desk calendar at work that I nearly peed myself. As a teacher, September is a loooong month. It is filled with getting kids back on track, reviewing rules, introducing procedures, and it's just a sucky reminder that summer is over. But when October 1st hit, I yelled, "WOO HOO!" Because, 1) It's 1 day closer to summer 2) Thoughts of my beach vacation are so far behind me that I'm no longer thinking, "Just a month ago I was playing mini golf with Monkey Man or laying by the pool or sleeping until 8:30 a.m. or having fun and enjoying the life that works sucks out of me." So, screw you September. October rocks!
4. In just 25 days, Hubby and I will get to enjoy all of the peanut-laden candy that Monkey Man cannot ingest. In just 25 days, I will be in a Reese's peanut butter cup and Snickers coma. Oh, peanut allergy, you are just not fair. To Monkey Man, anyway.
Happy October, everyone!
2. Today, a gift from a friend fell and broke. I thought for a second how appropriate this event was in that it was symbolic of our friendship. Without going into details, I am sad that our friendship shattered. I consider myself to be a loyal friend, someone whom once I am your friend, I mean a real, true friend not just an acquaintance, I will always be your friend. I have several friends whom I have known for years, some going back to Kindergarten. Weeks and months go by when we don't talk, but we can pick right up where we left off without missing a beat. When I make new friends, I tread lightly, needing to develop genuine trust. But this friendship was different and when this gift broke, I simply felt like it was true to the friendship. It was nice, it was fragile - but then it fell apart.
3. I was so happy to rip September off of my desk calendar at work that I nearly peed myself. As a teacher, September is a loooong month. It is filled with getting kids back on track, reviewing rules, introducing procedures, and it's just a sucky reminder that summer is over. But when October 1st hit, I yelled, "WOO HOO!" Because, 1) It's 1 day closer to summer 2) Thoughts of my beach vacation are so far behind me that I'm no longer thinking, "Just a month ago I was playing mini golf with Monkey Man or laying by the pool or sleeping until 8:30 a.m. or having fun and enjoying the life that works sucks out of me." So, screw you September. October rocks!
4. In just 25 days, Hubby and I will get to enjoy all of the peanut-laden candy that Monkey Man cannot ingest. In just 25 days, I will be in a Reese's peanut butter cup and Snickers coma. Oh, peanut allergy, you are just not fair. To Monkey Man, anyway.
Happy October, everyone!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Cleaning the Fridge = Cleaning the Soul
It all started with the parmesan cheese. While innocently looking for the cheese on my refrigerator door, a necessary accompaniment to one of Monkey Man’s favorite meals – spaghetti with broccoli with the all important olive oil and garlic (quite gourmet, right?), I saw that the shelf which the upscale Target brand cheese lay on needed a little wipe down. I decided I had a few minutes until the pasta was done cooking, so I headed to the utility closet for my Clorox wipes.
I proceeded to clear off that shelf and wipe it down. However, my brain couldn’t fathom having one clean shelf and possibly several other salad dressing, mustard and/or soy sauce coated shelves. I had a few minutes to kill while my intricate meal containing 4 ingredients bubbled and boiled, so I cleared off the other shelves.
I discovered mayonnaise that I used last week that was “Good Until August 2011.” Eww. Vomit. I unearthed Worchestire sauce that should have seen its demise in March 2010. Thankfully, I think I needed that once for some recipe and never used it again, but still, Gag. And I had 3 bottles of mustard, all opened at some point. Why? Why 3 bottles of mustard? And they all expired before December 2010. Barf.
This refrigerator purge left me a bit unsettled. I am not one to leave leftovers in the fridge past their time. My refrigerator is usually pretty bare once we’ve eaten the essentials – I don’t leave much to become science experiments. So this mustard, Worchestire sauce, mayo debacle gave me a little heart palpitation, a moment to wonder while sitting on the hardwood kitchen floor, “Am I losing my OCD?”
Alas, after coming to after my initial shock, I realized that had I lost my OCD I would never have been sitting on my kitchen floor minutes before dinner scrubbing my refrigerator. And feeling SO DAMN GOOD about life when that fridge was clean top to bottom purged of its potential Petri dish goodies. Yeah, when last minute refrigerator cleaning puts a new spring in my step, I know I still got it.
I proceeded to clear off that shelf and wipe it down. However, my brain couldn’t fathom having one clean shelf and possibly several other salad dressing, mustard and/or soy sauce coated shelves. I had a few minutes to kill while my intricate meal containing 4 ingredients bubbled and boiled, so I cleared off the other shelves.
I discovered mayonnaise that I used last week that was “Good Until August 2011.” Eww. Vomit. I unearthed Worchestire sauce that should have seen its demise in March 2010. Thankfully, I think I needed that once for some recipe and never used it again, but still, Gag. And I had 3 bottles of mustard, all opened at some point. Why? Why 3 bottles of mustard? And they all expired before December 2010. Barf.
This refrigerator purge left me a bit unsettled. I am not one to leave leftovers in the fridge past their time. My refrigerator is usually pretty bare once we’ve eaten the essentials – I don’t leave much to become science experiments. So this mustard, Worchestire sauce, mayo debacle gave me a little heart palpitation, a moment to wonder while sitting on the hardwood kitchen floor, “Am I losing my OCD?”
Alas, after coming to after my initial shock, I realized that had I lost my OCD I would never have been sitting on my kitchen floor minutes before dinner scrubbing my refrigerator. And feeling SO DAMN GOOD about life when that fridge was clean top to bottom purged of its potential Petri dish goodies. Yeah, when last minute refrigerator cleaning puts a new spring in my step, I know I still got it.
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