The First Black… Pope?

I was going through some old artwork of The Boy’s. This is one he did in pre-school in 2009. Apparently, that year we saw the first black President and, according to this, the first black Pope.

Ashes to Ashes

The Boy: “I don’t know what to give up for Lent.”

The Girl: “Just think of something you really like, then don’t do it for 40 days.”

MomDay Monday – Re-Tales

MORE MUSINGS FROM THE STORE FRONT:

When I ask if you need help finding something, the rule is that if I laugh at your “Can you help me find my wife?” you are then obligated to laugh at my “Don’t make me throw you out of here” when you tip something over.
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CATHEDRAL: A large or important church. GAZEBO: A small roofed building affording shade and rest.
What we sell, ma’am, are gazebos. Say it with me…. Gazebo.
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Know what, ma’am? Not only do we not sell the soap that you want, we also fail to carry a hacksaw large enough to get that chip off your shoulder.
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Ma’am, I understand that you saw it on Oprah. You’ve explained that to me several times. Still doesn’t mean that I’ve heard of it or that we sell it.
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No, ma’am, we do not have Chicken Chow Mein. Perhaps in your drunken haze you mistook this for the Grand China Restaurant up the street.
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Interplanetary Language Barrier: A “Caesar Machine” would do the bidding of a Roman dictator, or make a delightful salad. What you are looking for is more commonly known as a “Sewing Machine.” Welcome to Earth.
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Dear Heather: Thanks for visiting the cosmetics department tonight. I particularly appreciate your greeting of “Heather Was Here” emblazoned on my shelves in Maybelline Moisture Extreme’s Royal Red.
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Yes, ma’am. We do sell ‘bubbily bath.’ It’s right there next to the ‘babily oil.’
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Yes, sir. We do sell that remote control with the buttons. Which one has the buttons? All of them.
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Thank you, ma’am. Watching you cram 3 cart loads of furniture, appliances & other merchandise into your Corolla has made my night.

Dillweed – Part II

What I’ve always wanted to say to The Kids when they come up with a word that I know they heard from me but know they shouldn’t be saying.

It reminds me of a friend whose daughter got a lot of pollen on her sweatshirt at the park one afternoon. After unsuccessfully trying to brush the yellow sticky stuff off, my friend said, “Doesn’t look like that’s coming off.” Her 3-year-old daughter replied, “Fucking flowers.”

Now before you barrage me with how awful it is that a 3-year-old would know that word, lighten up. Kids pick up words all the time, even when we think they’re not listening. I swore The Boy was asleep in the back of the car one day when he was about 3 & flipped someone off. He later did it to his sister. Inappropriate? Definitely. Fucking funny? Absolutely.

Dillweed

The Boy has adopted one of my favorite non-swear insults – “Dillweed” – explaining so eloquently, “It’s a perennial herb, but it sounds bad, doesn’t it, Mom.”

Valen-Times

The Girl: “I don’t have a Valentine.”

Me: “That’s okay, sweetie. I don’t have a Valentine either.”

The Girl: “This is different. This is 5th grade. This is HARD!”

The Boy: “What are you talking about? You have valentines. I saw you sign all those SpongeBob cards the other day.”

Me: “No, buddy. When people get older, they like to have one special person that they want to be with & they call them their Valentine.”

The Boy: “Well, that’s just ridiculous.”

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Me: “Come on guys! Let’s make our Fondue!”

The Girl: “Let’s hope it really is a fondue & not a Fon-Don’t.”

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The Boy thought it was unfair that this was called “Fondue for Two” so we changed it.

MomDay Monday – Cupid Schmupid

So tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. That one day a year when you are supposed to tell the person you love that you do, in fact, love them. The other 364, let them guess.

If you can’t tell from the opening line, I started out writing this post with every intention of bashing Valentine’s as just another Hallmark Holiday – a useless expenditure of money & time on something that you should be doing year round. But you know what? I like Valentine’s Day.

Newly divorced & freshly dumped, I expected to be bitter about it. But I like it. I like how everything is heart-shaped (especially Reese’s Peanut Butter Hearts). I like making heart-shaped cupcakes & frosting them in pink icing with teeny heart candies on top. I like knowing that grumpy old couples get a spark of romance in the dead of winter. I like the cute basket with “Love” embroidered on the lining in pretty cursive that I filled with those same heart-shaped cupcakes & brought to my mom’s for her & my step-dad. I like the teeny tiny fondue pot I got for me & The Kids to use after dinner. (I’m fully expecting a burn incident with molten chocolate. Cooking-type things are not my strong point. I’ll keep you posted.)

But most of all – I like that love endures. I’m coming through a bout of dark days - days when I hated everyone & everything that had anything to do with love or romance… days when I wasn’t sure if the hurt would end…  days when I didn’t want to go near the Valentine’s section at work. But something is waking up in me. Something has been dawning on me in this bleakest month of the year. We need Valentine’s day. We need the red & pink loveliness & stuffed bears holding hearts. We need them to remind us that Love Endures.

Throughout the ages, love endures.

We will all face times when we crank up the J. Geils (for those of you under 35, see below. Adam Sandler didn’t invent that song just for The Wedding Singer, you know.), but if you stop & think about it, love is all around us. Even if we’re not in a facebook official relationship or don’t have any romance in our lives…. it’s still there & it still needs to be celebrated. It’s the love of your kids that makes suffering third degree burns from a fondue pot all worth it. It’s the love of your dad who always sends you chocolate covered strawberries (Right, Dad?… Dad?… Is this thing on?). It’s the love of your best friend or your sister or even just the love of your dog (No, I haven’t caved & bought them a dog). But it’s there… the best 4-letter word out there. And believe me, I know a lot of them.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

F*** the French

The Boy, tipping over a candlestick: “AHHH… The Eiffel Tower!! It’s crashing down….!!!!!”

The Girl: “Hey! That’s mean! Oh, wait.. it’s the French. Never mind.”

That’s Disgusting

After our Birds & Bees talk, The Girl wrote about the conversation in her diary*:

“Mom told me about sex tonight. Sounds like “insects.” It all sounds pretty gross, but the worst part is that apparently there’s a lot of kissing that goes on.”

*Dear Readers: Just so you know, she read this to me. I did not go snooping through her diary. This time.

Scenes from The Super Bowl

The Boy: “YEAH! The New York CHUMPS! That’s why it says NYG!”*

Me: “That would make it The New York Gumps.”

The Boy: “But that makes no sense.”

*we’re still working on the trash talking.

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The Girl: “Mom, is that your second beer?”

Me: “Yes. Why?”

The Girl: “I’m not proud.”

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The Girl, during the Teleflora ad with Adriana Lima: “So slow motion is supposed to make it sexier?”

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The Girl: “You know I don’t have any idea what’s going on… and I think the commercials are definitely the best part of this.”

Touche’, Little Girl.