Growing up you could instantly know the level of stress in our home by the amount of profanity in the air. I actually think it's genetic. Although if you ask most of my female relatives (especially my grandmother) they would swear on their lives that they in fact, don't swear. But get one of them in the kitchen burning the Thanksgiving rolls and you better hope you brought ear plugs for the kids.
Usually I am unaffected by the profanity gene but add in just the right mix and well...
This was a rough summer but there was a patch of a few particularly tough days. On one of those afternoons our neighbor pulled up in her car on her way home. Simon jumped in to visit with her kids while we talked. Before I knew it Simon was halfway out the window and the window was on it's way up. With in seconds my boy was trapped in a window determined to shut. He's screaming. My friend is frantically pushing all the window buttons in the car to know avail. And what am I doing? Oh, I'm standing there trying to use my muscle to push down the window while a stream of profanity is spewing from my mouth. And if that picture isn't pretty enough for you then know that my next door neighbors and their 6 children were all out unpacking their camper in the front yard watching and hearing the whole thing.
The very next day my stove caught on fire. As I put out the fire I opened the windows letting the smoke and the profanity out into the back yard where those same next door neighbors were playing.
Later that night I went in the back yard for something when all heck broke loose inside. I hear things crashing and children screaming. Running inside I left behind a trail of profanity for those blessed next door neighbors to enjoy as they pulled weeds together in their garden.
The next day was Sunday. Ahhh, the Sabbath. As the meeting begins the first speaker is none other than the eldest son of our next door neighbor and what is he speaking on? Profanity. I like to think I helped inspire him.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Not Even if You Were...
So we watched Home Alone last Sunday (and everyday since then). It's a safe family friendly kids movie, right?
Simon loves it. He just can't get enough of Kevin McCalister running hog wild through his house---sliding down the stairs on a sled, jumping on the beds, and foiling the bad guys. What a fun movie for a crazy 5 year old boy. Or so we thought.
Now, knowing that most of you know my son I'll take this moment to answer the thoughts I can read in your minds---No, Simon didn't ice down the porch, swing paint cans down the stairs, or smash anyone's face with an iron. He simply picked out a movie line that he just LOVED to use.
The first time he used it, it went something like this:
Simon: Mom, can I watch Duck Tales in my bedroom.
Me: No, we need to find something else for you to do for awhile.
Simon: Please?
Me: No way.
Simon: "Not even if you were growing on my ass?"
Me: Not even.
I chose not to make a big deal out of it at the time knowing that he would relish the thoughts of having learned a really bad word. Later however, I had to confront the problem head on.
The next day Simon was complaining that the baby follows him around everywhere. "It's like she's growing on my ass!" he said. That's when I knew it's time. We talked about what the word means and why we don't use it. I even explained that it's worse than the word "stupid" (a fact that he found to be completely mind blowing).
My little talked seemed to have worked. The only time I've heard him utter the word since is to inform others that it is a bad word and so they should try not to say it. Life's weird. I always figured Simon would pick up a bad word from me and not a movie from my childhood. Hum. Who knew?
I guess it could have been worse though, my little brother picked up the "F" word at age 4 from "Adventures in Babysitting". Boy was my mother ever mortified at church! Man, just thinking about that day makes me laugh.
Simon loves it. He just can't get enough of Kevin McCalister running hog wild through his house---sliding down the stairs on a sled, jumping on the beds, and foiling the bad guys. What a fun movie for a crazy 5 year old boy. Or so we thought.
Now, knowing that most of you know my son I'll take this moment to answer the thoughts I can read in your minds---No, Simon didn't ice down the porch, swing paint cans down the stairs, or smash anyone's face with an iron. He simply picked out a movie line that he just LOVED to use.
The first time he used it, it went something like this:
Simon: Mom, can I watch Duck Tales in my bedroom.
Me: No, we need to find something else for you to do for awhile.
Simon: Please?
Me: No way.
Simon: "Not even if you were growing on my ass?"
Me: Not even.
I chose not to make a big deal out of it at the time knowing that he would relish the thoughts of having learned a really bad word. Later however, I had to confront the problem head on.
The next day Simon was complaining that the baby follows him around everywhere. "It's like she's growing on my ass!" he said. That's when I knew it's time. We talked about what the word means and why we don't use it. I even explained that it's worse than the word "stupid" (a fact that he found to be completely mind blowing).
My little talked seemed to have worked. The only time I've heard him utter the word since is to inform others that it is a bad word and so they should try not to say it. Life's weird. I always figured Simon would pick up a bad word from me and not a movie from my childhood. Hum. Who knew?
I guess it could have been worse though, my little brother picked up the "F" word at age 4 from "Adventures in Babysitting". Boy was my mother ever mortified at church! Man, just thinking about that day makes me laugh.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The Best Week Ever
Monday my camera broke. Tuesday my sewing machine started to make a grinding noise. Thursday our TV died. And this morning my van has a flat tire and my Dyson's start button gave up---so vacuuming to the house today I had to manually hold the on button in for it to work.
This week better end soon. We can't afford for it to last another day.
This week better end soon. We can't afford for it to last another day.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Like I Said...Welcome to the Neighborhood
Later in the Spiderman Underwear day our new neighbors came and asked for some help moving in. "No" said I. "We've got the swine flu." Welcome to the neighborhood.
Later that night baby Grace (who had the croop something fierce) had a massive coughing attack. The only thing that helps with these is cold air and fast. Wearing only my underwear I race her out the back door and onto the porch. Back lit by the light from my kitchen I realize two things simultaneously #1. I can hear voices which are now quickly retreating and #2. I am in plain sight out there in my nothin's for about 5 houses to see including the new neighbors where the voices had been coming from.
Like I said...Welcome to the neighborhood.
Later that night baby Grace (who had the croop something fierce) had a massive coughing attack. The only thing that helps with these is cold air and fast. Wearing only my underwear I race her out the back door and onto the porch. Back lit by the light from my kitchen I realize two things simultaneously #1. I can hear voices which are now quickly retreating and #2. I am in plain sight out there in my nothin's for about 5 houses to see including the new neighbors where the voices had been coming from.
Like I said...Welcome to the neighborhood.
Welcome to the Neighborhood
Our new neighbors started to move in over the weekend. And as it turns out their front porch is located a staggering 15 feet away from our bedroom window. Which means they have a direct view in at any time. (Who ever situated our homes much have been a closet Peeping Tom.)
Our old neighbors were used to seeing me run around half naked at any given moment but I haven't broken the new ones in yet. Thankfully I have Simon.
As the cute couple is standing on the front porch talking to either friends or family who have just arrived to see the place Simon decides he is too hot in his pajamas and that he's ready to shower and get dressed.
Just then the phone rings. I answer it and visit. Getting off the phone I walk into my bedroom to find Simon standing on my bed watching the neighbors wearing only his Spiderman underwear! And thankfully I came when I did because he was just about to peel those off and jump into the shower.
The people on the porch disappeared and we've yet to see anyone linger there ever since and it's probably for the best. Welcome to the neighborhood. You're gonna love it here.
Our old neighbors were used to seeing me run around half naked at any given moment but I haven't broken the new ones in yet. Thankfully I have Simon.
As the cute couple is standing on the front porch talking to either friends or family who have just arrived to see the place Simon decides he is too hot in his pajamas and that he's ready to shower and get dressed.
Just then the phone rings. I answer it and visit. Getting off the phone I walk into my bedroom to find Simon standing on my bed watching the neighbors wearing only his Spiderman underwear! And thankfully I came when I did because he was just about to peel those off and jump into the shower.
The people on the porch disappeared and we've yet to see anyone linger there ever since and it's probably for the best. Welcome to the neighborhood. You're gonna love it here.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Never Again is Confusing
At the end of October I felt my crimes of style had gone far enough and I gave myself a little intervention. "NEVER AGAIN!" vowed I. Never again would I be out in public wearing crocs and socks. Never again would I wear my "Dad's baseball playin" sweatshirt covered in paint stains to the UPS store. Never again would I show up at the gas station unshowered wearing ripped up t-shirts and too short pajama pants. No, never again.
And I haven't.
But...
This change of apparel has caused concern, or at least raised eyebrows. Everyone from neighbors to cashiers have asked everything from "Why are you all dressed up?" to "What's wrong? Where are you going?" My favorite was the gas station attendant that told me one afternoon, "I seen you come in this morning and I knew something wasn't right."
Judging by the reactions I've gotten just wearing jeans and a T shirt that fits, my norm must be the crazy lady clothes. How did I turn into the bag lady mom? When did it happen? I don't know but I'm trying not to be her. (At least all the time) I even boxed up and put away all the too large and maternityesque clothing I own.
Yes, I said "boxed up" not "got rid of". While I'm ready to be a normal human being I'm just not willing to say goodbye permanently to crazy lady. I can't be too sure that crazy lady isn't the real liz and not her frightening alter ego. (You know like Bizarro Superman but in this case it's Bizarro liZ) So until I decide for sure those clothes will wait like skeletons in the closet for their rediscovery.
And I haven't.
But...
This change of apparel has caused concern, or at least raised eyebrows. Everyone from neighbors to cashiers have asked everything from "Why are you all dressed up?" to "What's wrong? Where are you going?" My favorite was the gas station attendant that told me one afternoon, "I seen you come in this morning and I knew something wasn't right."
Judging by the reactions I've gotten just wearing jeans and a T shirt that fits, my norm must be the crazy lady clothes. How did I turn into the bag lady mom? When did it happen? I don't know but I'm trying not to be her. (At least all the time) I even boxed up and put away all the too large and maternityesque clothing I own.
Yes, I said "boxed up" not "got rid of". While I'm ready to be a normal human being I'm just not willing to say goodbye permanently to crazy lady. I can't be too sure that crazy lady isn't the real liz and not her frightening alter ego. (You know like Bizarro Superman but in this case it's Bizarro liZ) So until I decide for sure those clothes will wait like skeletons in the closet for their rediscovery.
Peaches
Yesterday we were all sick (swine flu) and very tired. I piled the kids in the car to find a drive thru with Dr.Pepper. (A drive thru so we wouldn't expose the universe to our illness). Anyway, I'm feeling so sick and the sun seemed so bright I was thinking this may have been a very bad idea.
Just when I start to feel hopeless Simon says, "Mom, do you like peaches?"
Me: "Sure"
Simon: "Well, good, 'cause they're just like your hair: round, fuzzy, and sweet."
It made me laugh all the way to Betos where I purchased a very large and tasty Dr.Pepper. Later my family said that he probably heard something similar to that on Ice Age 3 at their house last weekend. So what I said. The execution and timing of it was priceless. They may be crazy but I thank God everyday for my kids. Twice yesterday.
Just when I start to feel hopeless Simon says, "Mom, do you like peaches?"
Me: "Sure"
Simon: "Well, good, 'cause they're just like your hair: round, fuzzy, and sweet."
It made me laugh all the way to Betos where I purchased a very large and tasty Dr.Pepper. Later my family said that he probably heard something similar to that on Ice Age 3 at their house last weekend. So what I said. The execution and timing of it was priceless. They may be crazy but I thank God everyday for my kids. Twice yesterday.
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