Another Gray Hair

Status Quo

Julianne has a little problem with Facebook. She's hooked on it and has, as a result, begun thinking in terms of her Facebook status which, for those of you unfamiliar with Facebook, always starts out with the word, "Julianne" and must be confined to 160 characters or less.

Julianne now thinks in the third person. She worries this may be a tad narcissistic.

Julianne likes for her Facebook status to either be clever, poignant, humorous or some combination of the three. This is difficult for her to accomplish in less than 160 characters.

Julianne hopes that this thinking in terms of Facebook status condition of hers doesn't seep into her everyday life. She may hear herself say things such as this:

Julianne wants her daughter to stop asking for a snack and start eating her meals. If this doesn't happen, her daughter will be placed in time out.

Julianne does not want to ask her son to turn off the Wii again. If she does, she will take his privileges away tomorrow.

Julianne is trying to talk on the phone. She wishes her two children would stop making requests long enough for her to change her doctor's appointment. If they don't, Julianne will be forced to lock herself in the closet.

Julianne is now locked in the closet. Thankfully, she remembered to bring her laptop.

 

 

Lunch Lady Land

He woke up on the wrong side of the bed is not a phrase I use often. I've never bought into the philosophy that someone can wake up in a bad mood. This is ironic, considering I am the queen of waking up with a boulder-sized chip on my shoulder. I finally recognized this in myself when I saw it, first hand, in my son this morning. He woke up 30 minutes earlier than usual, came upstairs and asked me if he could watch TV (I was in the shower). I told him he could but he'd have to wait until I finished my shower. This did not go over well. He collapsed into a pile of tears and whiny incoherent victim phrases. It was a great way for me to begin my day.

I got out of the shower, got dressed, and turned on PBS for him. I explained that the TV would be turned off soon when it was time for us to go downstairs and get ready for school. His response was a tad irrational:

Son: SCHOOL? I have school AGAIN? Does Tatum have school today?

Me: Not today.

Son: She ALWAYS gets to stay home while I have to go to school. And then he made a noise that I can only describe as a dramatic screech followed by the classic arm folded, head bowed sulking pose. It pleased me so.

I chose not to acknowledge that last statement, made some kind of threat regarding the TV (I made so many threats this morning that I can't remember what this one was), and went on with the business of getting myself ready for the day. Suffice it to say, my expectations for the smoothness of my morning routine were dropping at record speed. I was dreading the next 45 minutes like a root canal.

After I finished getting myself ready, I waited two minutes until Dragon Tales was over, turned off the TV and asked the kids (by this time both were up in my bed) to go downstairs and get dressed. This request, which he knew was coming, brought forth an absurd amount of tears and drama from my son. I made another threat regarding the Wii that prompted him to peel himself off of the bed and go downstairs where he got dressed fast enough to give a sloth a run for his money, whining the entire time about the pants, the shirt, the shoes. A smooth morning of dressing, bed making and room cleaning earns my kids a token which they use to redeem for an allowance. My son asked, after his painful dressing episode, if he could add a token to his board. I braced myself as I explained that a token is only earned if the task is completed with a "willing spirit" and that his willing spirit was MIA that morning. This, as you can imagine, did not go over well. More whining and crying ensued and I ended up sending my son to his room until he was ready to behave like a civilized human being. After he composed himself, we sat down for breakfast which went off without incident. The drama, however, was not over. My son caught a glimpse of the school cafeteria menu as he carried his dishes to the sink and burst into tears. I was mystified. WHAT NOW?

In between sobs, he said this to me:

You told me that they were having chicken sandwiches yesterday Mommy and they had pizza. PIZZA! I don't like pizza. Why do you keep telling me things that AREN'T TRUE????

 

Well, this made me feel like a million bucks. What kind of Mom am I? After two unexpected snow days I assume that the menu is still accurate and send my son to school with no lunch and he is subsequently forced to consume pizza. PIZZA! The humanity! I told him that I was just going by what the menu said and tried to explain that it could have been much worse. The menu could have been sloppy joes or meatloaf! I then broke into a chorus of, "Lunch Lady Land" by Adam Sandler which didn't go over quite as well as I'd hoped.

So, to get rid of the enormous chip on my shoulder that I blame squarely on my son, I am watching the video of Adam Sandler and the late, great Chris Farley as the Lunch Lady over and over again. It's better than Prozac!

Hoagies and grinders. Hoagies and grinders. Navy beans, navy beans, navy beans!

 

White House Scandal

A little inaugural humor for your Monday:

We discussed the election quite a bit in our house. We tried to use that opportunity to teach our son about the basics of U.S. Government. In the process, my daughter picked up some information. She knows who both John McCain and Barack Obama are and she could definitely pick them out in a line-up. Both the kids know that Obama won the election and they always point him out on TV or in print ads. Yesterday, I was reading the Sunday paper and my daughter picked up the USA Weekend magazine with Barack and Michele Obama on the cover. She looked at it for a second, held it up for me to see and said, in a voice that implies a scandal, "Mommy. Did you know that Bock (her name for him) Obama has a girlfriend?"

This launched us into a discussion about marriage and family that was followed by many, many questions that I'm pretty sure she's still confused about. So, we'll be tuning in to watch Bock Obama and his girlfriend at the inauguration tomorrow. His two love children will probably be with him as well. That should open the floor up for some interesting topics.

Pop-Tart Fetcher Extraordinaire

]\

School was cancelled today because temperatures were a chilly 12 degrees this morning. I'm not sure I agree with cancelling school due to cold temps but that's probably because I don't have kids that have to wait at a bus stop in the a.m. I took advantage of the off day, letting the kids stay up a little later than usual last night so I could catch some extra shut eye this morning. This plan rarely works but that has never stopped me from trying. Today was one of those rare occasions that the kids were compliant and let me sleep while they watched some morning cartoons. It was blissful, not the kind of sleep that people without young children would appreciate (There was the occasional elbow in the stomach and lots of noise) but given my ability to tune out all non-emergencies, I slept like a baby. I awoke at around 8:30 and decided to roll myself out of the bed. I sat up, scanned the room and bid a formal good morning to my kids. My son didn't waste any time getting to the whining. Here's what he said:

Son: Why do I always have to get the pop-tarts for us in the morning?

Daughter: Because you're my Bubba.

***It should be noted that Pop-Tarts are not a typical breakfast around here. I keep them in the house for mornings when I can steal a little extra shut-eye***

That seemed to satisfy him and it made me smile so I got on with the business of my morning routine and we braved the cold for a fun day of indoor play and a lunch date with some friends. After we came home I made the kids play in their rooms for a bit while I got some things done around the house and my daughter seemed to completely forget the conversation she had that morning when I heard this coming from my son's room in a high pitched scream:

I DON'T LIKE YOU AND I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE MY BUBBA ANYMORE!

Who's going to get her pop-tarts now?

Nothing Better To Do

I received a comment today from someone who calls themselves, "BeastTube" on a blog entry that was the most vile, poorly written fragment I've ever laid eyes on. I deleted it immediately but it left a lasting impact. In addition to feeling the need to take a long, hot shower to wipe the filth out of my mind, I wonder some things about Mr. BeastTube:

1. Who is BeastTube?
2. What possible satisfaction does it give him to post his sadistic sexual fantasies on a semi-inactive Mama blog like mine?
3. What is this BeastTube compensating for?

Just for shits and giggles, I'll give my own questions a shot. Here goes:

1. He's 43, lonely and hasn't been with a woman in over 3 years. He watches way too much porn and plays, "Grand Theft Auto" at least two hours per day.
2. He's reaching and has tapped out most other demographics. Next on his list: quilting grandmas and scrapbookers
3. This is a no brainer. Just look at his name.

Anyone else care to post a theory or two?

Bailouts Gone Wild

Seriously?

Come Again Some Other Day

I've got nothing these days. Nothing but rain. Rain. Rain. In January. It sucks.

So, to combat my bitterness, I'm going to make a list of things I'm thankful for:

1. Smoothies. Without them my digestive system would stall completely.
   
2. Rock of Love III: Thank you crazy DJ Nikki for making me laugh on a day when laughter was scarce by reading your Ode to Bret Michaels rap from a paper that you clearly got from the health clinic entitled, "Genital Herpes Instructions." Holy guacamole, I love that show.
   
3. My son's general goodness. He received a belated gift from my grandmother yesterday that included three board books that are appropriate for a two-year-old (he's six) and a set of "erasable" markers that don't work. He responded to it by saying, "Nana doesn't really understand what a 6-year-old likes does she?" We both giggled and he gave his books to his sister. Man, I love that kid.
   
4. A healthy pregnancy. I'm moving right along at 29 weeks, feeling good, even cooking again.
   
5. The huz. God bless him for his patience and willingness to teach my son how to play Star Wars Battleship. I would have made it 15 seconds.
   
6. Tiaras. My house is filled with them now and my daughter puts them on at random times and declares herself a princess. This is followed by a dance. Yeah, I love her too.
   
7. Semi-trashy vampire novels. They're my new thing.
   
8. The Dud (our lovable mutt). My snuggle jar runneth over.
   
9. Eric Hutchinson. I've been rocking out to his tunes in my kitchen for days.
   
10. January 7^th: the date that school resumes. My kids are bored. I'm ready. Let's get this party started.