Monthly Archives: December 2011

Who Died?

Standard

 

The Boy: “What color do people wear to a funeral? Black or white?”

Me: “Most people wear black.”

The Boy: “But women wear white to a wedding….”

Me: “If they’re getting married, yes, mostly.”

The Boy: “But  men still wear black when they get married … so there’s really no difference for them.”

Me: “Between a wedding & a funeral? No. Not really.”

 

MomDay Monday – Meh

Standard

I’m not feeling particularly funny today. I’m feeling a bit meh. For those of you not familiar with the word , it’s really just a way of verbalizing a shrug. Roughly translated it can mean a lot of things including: Yes, No, Maybe, Kind of, Never, Always, Okay, Alright, No thank you, Yes please, Look bitch I really don’t care so just shut up, If you want, Whatever, I don’t really care, No honestly – I don’t care… etc.

But it’s Monday & well, what other day do I get to vent? (Well, it is my blog so I guess I can pick whatever day I want but “MomDay Thursday” just sounds stupid.) So just randomly, here’s a few things about my week….

I hate to say it, but work has been going well. I like my job. And I’m in retail. And it’s the busiest shopping season of the year. And today I got to watch people run & push & shove to get 50% off wrapping paper that they will store somewhere for the next year, forget where it is & end up buying more next year at full price. Yet in spite of all that, I like my  job. Sometimes it’s actually the high point of my day. And I’m wondering how sad that sounds.

I almost got busted by The Boy doing the Santa thing. It’s my first year playing Santa by myself. The Ex was great about shopping & helping to wrap, but on Christmas Eve, it was up to me to get everything set up. We got home late from The Big Italian Christmas Eve Extravaganza & Seafood Fest so The Kids weren’t in bed before midnight. At about 1:30 am, I heard feet on the stairs. The Boy’s feet. If you saw the “Merry Freaking Christmas” picture from Saturday’s post, you’ll notice that the tree is right at the bottom of the staircase. So there is no way he didn’t see those presents under the tree (with the cleverly disguised handwriting of Mom & Dad pretending to be Santa). But that is one of the great things about The Big Italian Christmas Eve Extravaganza & Seafood Fest… He was so delirious that he didn’t notice & I was able to tuck him back into bed & convince him that the jingly noise he claims to have heard was just Mommy’s wine bottle hitting the wine glass… over… and over again.

So even though I’ve been a little meh lately, I’ve found out a few things… good things… unfunny things… Like:

No matter how much you fight with your sibling when you’re kids, you love them like crazy when you get older (Thanks, Sis). So there’s hope for The Boy & The Girl to maybe get through a day without telling each other to “Shut up a little.”

My friends are amazing & they always have my back. Sappy, I know. Deal with it.

And when all else fails… make sure you have plenty of Chardonnay on hand.

Merry Freaking Christmas

Standard

I didn’t do Christmas cards this year. It seemed awkward to send out cards from just me & the kids.  I did consider using this picture that my mom took in front of our Christmas tree the day we brought it home. So for those of you who miss getting a Christmas card from me, this will have to do: 

Merry Freaking Christmas

from The Boy, The Girl & The Mom

 

Oh, Sweet Carnage

Standard

This is what the kit is supposed to look like:

And this is what happens when you make the kit with The Boy:

“Elves will die!”*

“Noooo!! Not the reindeer!”*

“Ah… the sweet taste of carnage.”*

*Actual quote from The Boy.

Dear Viewing Public: Please do not inundate me with comments & emails about my son needing psychological help because he created a scene of carnage out of elves & reindeer. He is a boy. A 7-year-old boy. If your 7-year-old boy is not creating scenes of carnage out of everyday items, THEY’RE the ones who need psychological help. It’s what 7-year-old boys do. True story.

MomDay Monday – Playground for Grownups

Standard

Every day, grown men & women go to Facebook to play. Sometimes they vent. Sometimes they chat with friends. Sometimes we have to hear all about their latest ailment or that they just had a tuna sandwich. While the level of detail may be more than we would get on an actual playground, the basic concept is the same.

Consider…

– The Friend Request – When The Girl was little, she would run up to every new kid that arrived at the playground and promptly introduce herself. Usually she would say, “Hi. My name’s Grace. This is my friend, Mommy. Welcome to the playground.” But after that she would always say, “Wanna be my friend?” Same goes for Facebook. And just like the playground, the other person can either accept you or ignore you.

– The Games – At the playground, it’s Tag, Catch, or in the park near us, “Dodge the Goose Poop.” On Facebook it’s Scrabble, Words with Friends or Fish/Farm/City/Whoville. But it’s still just games & some people still get too worked up about the outcome. (In the spirit of full disclosure, the author admits to a persistent Scrabble addiction. I’m in rehab & am down to 2 games.)

– The Poke – Just like pulling someone’s pigtails. And just as stupid.

– The Delete – The Facebook equivalent of “I’m taking my ball & going home.” Or, staying more in line with what The Kids would say, “I don’t want to see your big fat face anymore!”

Lighten up, people. It’s just Facebook.

Catholic School Pays Off

Standard
Catholic School Pays Off

There are activity sheets at our church for the kids to do during Mass. The Boy usually grabs one then spends most of the time drawing over the pictures or coloring on the sides. Today’s sheet had one of those “One of These Things is Not Like the Others”. There were about six Baby Jesuses (Jesi?) lined up & The Boy was supposed to simply circle the one that wasn’t like the others. But “simply” isn’t a word The Boy knows. Here are my two favorites:

Why So Serious?

Standard

The Boy recently attended a Boy Scout Pack meeting that featured a presentation by a meteorologist from a local new station.

Me: “How did you like the weatherman?”

The Boy: “It was a little scary. All he talked about was tornadoes, hurricanes & earthquakes.”

Me: “Well… yeah. That’s the cool stuff!”

The Boy: “Well, he could have talked a bit about a nice, sunny day & not so much about putting us all in peril.”