Inappropriately Excessively Fun Pool Time

Today we went to The Pool.

There was a stop involved, before The Trip to The Pool.

We picked up some noodles.

Friend + Self + 4 kids + 4 noodles = inappropriately excessive pool fun.

For instance, Friend and Self could be heard to utter any of the following phrases at any time during our pool time:

Put that noodle down.

Keep your noodle to yourself.

Nobody wants to be whacked with your noodle.

Stop poking your noodle into other people, or I will have to remove your noodle.

I don't care why you just knocked a glass off of the table; 'My noodle just got too big' is not a very good reason for losing control of your noodle.

Put your noodle down in the car; it's dangerous to go waving your noodle around when people are driving.

If you don't stop touching his noodle, I will take all the noodles away from everyone!

I am not sure how I feel about everyone having noodles.

Worthy (of historical moments) Conversations

On a recent drive home from a windy beach outing with old friends:

Bubbles: Supergirl, I think you're gonna marry Henry.
Supergirl: Oh YEAH??? Then you are gonna marry Davey and be GAY!
Bubbles and Davey: ........
Bubbles: No I'm NOT! I'm not gonna marry Davey!
Because I'm gonna marry Mama!!





Yesterday, in the Yard:

Mom: Owl, did you hit Bubbles with a sword?
Owl: NO!!!
Mom: Then why did you run away?
Owl: Because I didn't like the NOISE!!
Mom: What noise?
Owl: The CRYING noise!
Mom: Who was crying?
Owl: Bubbles.
Mom: Why was he crying?
Owl: Because I hit him with a sword!

Apraxia in Action; Continued

Today we were sorting through the old toy collection.
'We', being myself + the NDN (NextDoorNeighbors) who are also the BFF (BestFunFriends), also known as the LL's (landl'owners) and PWIHKF (People Whom I Have Known Forever). So let's just go with the NDN for now.....
'We' were all quite busy.
I had many 19th century 'spells' during the sorting, but managed to survive. (Oh I didn't tell you about the Pleurisy? Just waiting to contract 'The Vapors' next.)

We crossed paths with boxes and our children co-mingled with the discarded treasures.
Each child was allowed to keep one new toy from each others' donate pile.
Bubbles found himself particularly interested in a small toy cell phone with a 'John Deere' logo. He told me he wanted this toy because it was 'a deer phone'.

I said, "Yes, it has a John Deere on it. John Deere is a kind of tractor."

He said, "Yes! I have a deer attractor and I am gonna use this to catch a deer! Cause I have a deer attractor! I press this red button and I attract the deer!"


~~~~~~...............................~~~~~~~~


Mmm...............Okay.

And Sometimes Its Funny

So I went to pick up the kids from the supervised visitation provider at the park.
She's a very likable person, friendly to the children, pleasant. I have nothing to hide from her - she has already seen my messy car - and I am not under scrutiny, but of course I always worry about every new scratch our wild little Bubbles gets. What if that is under scrutiny....and he keeps fighting with the damn cat!
We're mothers, we worry. Like the time Supergirl was barely 2 years old and whined in a tiny plaintive voice, "Mama....I want soda! Peeese get me soda!"
In front of 5 month old Elijah's Early Intervention therapist!!
"She means CEREAL! For some reason it just comes out sounding like 'soda'! HA! I would never ever give her soda! HA HA HA!!"

She blinked at me. I got up and got the cereal.

So the kids. At the park. And the supervisor person. As I am getting the kids buckled in, I remind them who we are going to go pick up before we go home.
"Malcolm??" shouts Bubbles. "Malcolm is coming OVER?"
"Yes," I remind him, "We're going to get him now."
"AND HE'S GONNA SPEND THE NIGHT AND SLEEPOVER?" He shouted, quite loudly.
I look at the still very nearby chaperon and smile.
"Umm YES!" I shout back, "Malcolm the DOG is sleeping OVER! The DOG!"


File that under: Unforeseen hazards of dogsitting for Grace.

Colossal Disney Swear Fail

Okay, I still can't really tell you why I am here, but, after a day of dogs-and-cats type freezing rain, chilled-to-the-bone and whining kids (the OLDER ONES!), absolutely zero photo opportunities, and all day hotel TV, I must at least tell the funniest part so far.

Last night, after a long and tiring hot tub swim with the kiddos, Heidi put herself and early bird kids straight to bed, while I put mine straight into an anti-chlorine bath and slipped into a glass of wine. As my kiddos were toweling off, we heard some large booms, and almost instantly - and very excitedly - realized that we could see the spectacular show from our second floor hotel balcony/walkway.
"Ooooooo, Ahhhhhh..." they exclaimed once before the door bolted open next to us and Heidi and her boys emerged....
"OH MY JESUS CHRIST SWEET BABY JESUS I thought someone was getting shot out here! SHIT! I am SO GLAD it is fireworks, but FUCK that scared me!! I was just falling asleep, and BAM! BAM! BAM! Holy fucking A."


Note to self: Create new hashtag - #colossaldisneyswearfail

Definitely NOT Parent's Choice Toy Award Material...

I am in shock.

Bubbles loves his 'guys' more than any other toys. Sure, he loves his rescue heroes, and his trains, but not as much as his 'guys'. Guys are tiny and have many snippety-snappy accessories and come in blue boxes. Playmobil, with its attention to detail and lack of merchandise produced in China, has won our family over.

But today, while searching for 'guys' to go in the castle and boat he has requested for his birthday (he's not getting both, btw), I came across this.

And it is just so so very wrong.


Notice the mask and the scattered (obviously stolen) money.
It's a getaway car.

Spiderman Theme Song Debate

So Bubbles and his buddy, Orion, have a lot in common, beginning with their shared love of superheroes, especially The Best Superhero, Spiderman.

Much to Bubbles' excitement, Orion came to visit this weekend to 'pway wif toys and share the guys'!!

They then sat down to sing, and kept correcting each other on the lyrics of the Spidey theme song:




That was pretty funny, but then they got the giggles, and it devolved into some sort of knee-slapping hilarity:



I know. Just try not to laugh.

You Haven't Lived Until You've Seen A 3 yr old Sing ABBA

My little guy Bubbles has become obsessed with the movie, Mamma Mia. He thinks he is Pierce Brosnan, which is even funnier to me, because we met him (but I had no idea who he was.... looooong story) when I was barely pregnant with Bubbles.

Apparently in this scene, he also thinks he is Meryl Streep (aka Donna), and he sings, "He's the Dancing Queen."
I plan to use this as ammunition in his teen years, I am just saying it now.




And then he tried again, with Super Trouper. He is so blown away by the actual video, that he can only sing it when it is not on. But here is his joy:

Tastes Like Chicken

Supergirl's friend, Emily, walks into the house with a chicken (the one we call 'Nugget') under her arm, calling my name.

"Emily! Stop! Stop!"
"But Gwendomama..."
"No, Emily! Please no chickens in the house!"
"But Gwe-..."
"No, honey, really! Back up, you need to go out of the house with that pooping chicken and come back to ask me!"
"Buuuuuuuutttttttt..............."
"NO! Emily, I am serious; you need to go put that chicken back right now!"

[........................................................................]

Forty three seconds later, Emily walks back in the house, this time without the chicken.

"Thank you, Emily. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Umm, yeah.....I was wondering if I could take Chicken Nugget out to play."

Art By Children; Special Edition

Bubbles, in his new obsession with superheroes, has taken to drawing on himself.
We have to hide all the markers.
It started out innocent enough - he drew on himself at school and told everyone he was Spiderman. Which? Almost believable! Because actually, if you look at Spidey's costume, it appears (to a three year old, anyway) to be a web drawn all over him.

Still, I asked him not to draw on himself anymore, and his preschool teachers kept a close eye on him at school, for any marker he found, he would lift up his shirt and draw on his tummy (since he knew everyone was now on to him)!

The other night I was cleaning. Busy, distracted, serious cleaning. And then I realized how quiet it was.
Way.
Too.
Quiet.

The kind of quiet I hate more than anything.
I dropped the rags, darted upstairs, and sighed with relief when I heard surprised giggles upon my fast and furious entrance.
But then....what did I see?



This is just a small percentage of what he colored. Basically, his entire body. With a black 'washable' marker. From the bottoms of his feet to the one dot in each ear, full belly button coverage...anything he could reach was colored.

"Bubbles!" I said sternly (smothering my laughter of course), "You are not Spiderman! And another thing...Spiderman absolutely does not cover himself in marker!"

Bubbles looked up ever so innocently, then looked at his arms and his eyes got huge, with a look of absolute surprise coming over his face, he was thinking, thinking....

:::::pause::::::

:::::pause:::::

and then.....

"MAMA!!! OH NO! BAD GUYS DID THIS TO ME!"









Okay, so he's a quick thinker.
That was a good one.

My Three Year Old Thinks He's Howard Hughes

Bubbles is very independent. Forced by apraxia, and motivated by his marvelous personality, he will help himself before he asks for help, such as: bring a box of cereal to me if he wants some, and run back out of the room to get a bowl if he forgot one.

So far, we are a potty training FAIL. He refuses to use the potty, runs from the potty in horror, denies having pooped despite green vapors filling the room, refuses even gummy treats in exchange for a mere moment on the toilet.
Yesterday, he peed on his shoes. Well, through his pants (I told him he wasn't wearing a diaper!) and onto his shoes.
And I wiped off his shoes and put them in the sun to dry. Later, the shoes were nowhere to be found. Missing shoes.
"Where are your shoes?" We asked Bubbles.
"I gonna pay trains!" He would answer.
"Bubbles, go find your shoes!"
"I want a cookie!"

This went on all day. We would ask him for the shoes, and he would change the subject and look innocent. We searched the yard, the house, the garage, the bike baskets, everything we could think of, because Bubbles will only wear this pair of shoes or rainboots, and today was too hot for the latter.
No shoes.

Tonight, I put him in the bath and started cleaning up in the living room, adjacent to the bathroom. I heard him rummaging through his bath toy basket, and he began playing. Dh walked in the bathroom a moment later and found Bubbles with his leather shoes submerged, happily scrubbing away.
"Shoe bath!" He announced.


Oh my holy hell. The boy hid his shoes under the toys in the bath toy basket, waiting for a secret opportunity in which to wash them.


What does one make of a child who refuses to use a toilet, but is afraid that his parents will not properly wash the pee off of his shoes?

Do not read this if the words 'dead baby cake' offend you...

The Bloggess, well-known by everyone for being one who, err.....turns on.....many things (like light switches!) and people (and sheep, and puppies), has turned me on to this video site.

And just in time too.


Let me point out, that while Jenny's movie is funny, it took her four and one half days to complete.

Whereas my movie took only seven minutes.

The Mamas Rockband Challenge

Okay, if you go to a rather shady shabby looking thrift store to look for some very unlikely child sized ski pants, just because it is the only thrift store near your job (which is not near your home), and you just happen to be there with your kickass friend and you both just happen to see some guys unloading their truck a brand new ROCKBAND SE set come in.............





And they offer it to you for....oh..let's say a really amazing deal....and you and your friend are truly rather trusting and immediately think 'WOW! What a great deal!'...and it is, after all...a freaking store....do not think any further or hurt your little brain doing so.

Dude.... get it.

Because, when you take that baby home and plug it all in, you could lose yourself in an oblivion of sheer devotion+insanity+dormant rocker gene just really enjoy an hour more than you thought was possible.
Seriously.

You have not lived until you have heard your 7 yr old sing the Blue Oyster Cut lyrics to 'Don't Fear the Reaper'.

'.............Romeo and Juliet, are together in eternity...'

If we could just get that damn practice mode to work so it wouldn't keep calling us FAILures.

That rocker bitch friend is totally the next target for mama's night out*. I think we will need the second guitar, or there may be some scrabbling, eh?





*(you know who you are)

If You Still Think I Am Genteel In Any Way....Avert Your Eyes.

I can't help myself.

Sharing this story is a sure sign that I've lost all remaining shreds of decency.
But let's just stop pretending shall we?

California Unified Nether Temple Society

The BOS was extolling the virtues of the California Womens Health program, how great the doctors she saw were, blahblablah. Which reminded me that I am way overdue for a girlybits exam. Not to mention the girlybits have been causing me some insomnia-inducing, cancerfearing shuddering terrified thoughts concern. So, to share in her new love of stirrup visits for a mere $15, the BOS began her campaign to get me to the cooter doc.

"Dude. They give you a card. A card that you can use just for your cooter! A cooter card!"
"Oooh wow....do they swipe it?"
"They surely do!"
"Oh! So that would make it like a credit cunt?"
"Exactly!"

So forgive me, dear Marisol, the very nice receptionist from the Womens Health Center, for giggling during our phone conversation when you told me today that I qualified for 'the card'. And that it would cover all my reproductive organ goodies. Because I really was working hard to suppress the nervous gutwrenching fears question that was begging to be answered: And where are you going to swipe that card?


I warned you.

We Have A Fear of Big Cats In This Family

We have been lucky enough to stay at a very generous friend's cliff house on the north Sonoma coast - it is the perfect getaway for a weekend, and we spend our time soaking in the oversize hot tub, playing games with the kids (no TV or wi-fi!) and hiking when weather permits.

This weekend marked our second visit up there, and I loved being there as much in stormy weather as I did in our 80 degrees heatwave a few weeks ago.
The drive, however, is freakishly scary in a wind and hail storm, so we waited the storm out an extra day and played vacation house for a long weekend.

In one of the storm respites, we managed to get the kids to walk up the road to what we call 'Fairyland', a very large natural cave system created by windblown cypress trees on the edge of a cliff. Apparently, since our last visit to the Fairyland, Bubbles created his own version of what those caves really hold.




He ran into the darkness of a cave and came running back, dramatically shouting, "Oh NO! Lions! LIONS! Dere's a LION!! In da CAVE! Gonna GETCHYOU!! RUN RUN RUN!!"
I played along with him for a few minutes, then he kept talking about it and worked himself into a froth and started panicking for real. Of course, all I could do was giggle and videotape his terror.

Here, he warns me about the Lion coming out of the cave and how it is going to eat my pictures (my camera). Luckily (or, disappointingly, depending how you look at it), only Supergirl and Daddy emerged from the cave. I have no idea where he gets it, and I am quite sure it has nothing to do with my fear of San Francisco tigers.

Anthropologetic

Well, it's a sad thing for me to announce, but this recession depression has gotten the best of us, and we have to move back to Grammie's farm.

It's tragic, because we can't fit too much in the truck, and we'll have to get rid of most of our belongings. We did buy a lot of crap absolutely necessary indulgences while caught up in the California housing and credit boom re-mortgaging out our home, and most of it will have to go. But we will make do, and somehow make our new digs look like home again.

I mean sure, we'll have to sleep in the slaughter house dairy barn, but since the dust storms, the milk done all dried up and the cows is all gone to live with Grampie Up There.



We sure do like our privacy, so the kids have their own bedroom out on Grammie's front porch. It's been months since any drop of rain has fallen, so we'll hang that tarp when we come to it.



If y'all want to come visit, we've set up a lovely guest room in the ol' chicken coop (only $250/night for friends and family!)(we gotta buy our crack grits, you know).



We didn't have any room for the tricycles or learnin' books, but I couldn't bear to get rid of my $5000 couch, so we did manage to squeeze it into our quilt-filled pick-up truck when we left the state.

(Whaddya mean there aren't any toys? See those papier mache birds? If those kids so much as drool on them they are dead meat. Toys!)









(Disclaimer of reality: Every photo here is lifted from the most recent Anthropol*gie catalog. Their art director is apparently giving us a vision of things to come...)

Sunday Monday Link Love

I love to laugh, and these have kept me laughing for days:

Joe Cocker's lyrics demystified!!

Why I will never ever try a self-waxing kit.

And if you haven't seen this already, make sure you hang in there til about the 4 minute mark:

What Did She MEAN to Say?

Michelle and Barack Obama do WHAT together?




(thanks, Van)


(still laughing)

Inappropriate Parenting

Today's photo upload editing is brought to you by speech therapy cafe:




Is it wrong, that yesterday, after my Ebay score had arrived and been opened, that I only want to encourage a repeat reaction from my son?

My son, who wrapped the doll's legs around his neck, settling him on his shoulders, and romped around the house yelling, "I HAZ A WOODY! I HAS A WOODY! DADDY COME SEE MY WOODY!!"


I swear to you, picture to come if it's the only thing I do today.....

HERE THEY ARE!!!

Look, MA! I HAZ A WOODY!!


See? I got a WOODY!