Saturday, September 15, 2007

Homocidal Minivan Driver

So, I love Halloween. Like LOVE Halloween. It's my most favoritest holiday. So naturally, I have already begun shopping for said holiday. Big and Little already have their costumes (Big is a gladiator and Little is a lion- it's even cuter than you are imagining) and I am shopping for decorations. I decide to go to Garden Ridge as I have exhausted all the craft stores in my own area. The only Garden Ridge is a 30-40 min drive from where I live. So I pack Little up, very excited at the prospect of getting some good finds. I drive all the way up there, pull into the parking lot. Get Little out and walk all the way up to the door and pull a cart out when an employee comes up to me and says "We're not open". Ok, it's Thursday right? "Yeah, we don't open until tomorrow" What? What the crap!? "Yes, tomorrow is the big day!"- says the employee, thrilled with himself that he knows what random day of the week the damn place opens.. Now I'm mad that I finally made it up there (I had been planning on going for weeks) only to have it be the DAY before they mysteriously reopen (this place has been there for about the past five years). WTF- and can I just say that is my luck- the day before....sombitches...

So in a homicidal rage that stems from me coming down off female hormones, I get Little back in the van, slamming the doors to show the other cars how mad I am. Then get in and floor the Caravan so that it peels out of the parking lot in a jumpy sort of way that minivans do only to realize that it is one of those trick parking lots with exits that aren't really exits at all, forcing me to drive around in a circle with all the workers of said establishment staring at the insane person in the minivan.

Now, I still want to go to the stupid store (nothing stands between me and a bargain), but I insist on taking my husband car so that any employees that might be milling around in the parking lot when we pull up, won't recognise my completely generic minivan as the one that showed them that they can't just "close" whenever they feel like it unless they want someone to put a hurtin' on their parking lot....

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Attempt on my life

I have to keep all these stories together so that one day I can blackmail-I mean scrapbook- them. Sorry to those who have already read this...

"My son will here-for-after (don't think that is a real word, hyphens or not, but it is now) be known as Damian, spawn of Satan. As I sat on the couch watching reruns of Project Runway Season One, I heard Little fiddling with his toys on the other side of the couch- my rule is if I can hear him, that generally means he's alive...don't criticize, it's worked so far. Anyway, the next thing I hear is a beep from my laptop telling me it's been unplugged. Since the word NO might as well mean gobbledegook to Little Damian, I run around the couch to grab his hand off the plug. As I do, his fingers slip onto the metal prongs that are still halfway into the outlet and an electrical current passes through him and into me.
:-* :-* :-* :-* :-*

Thankfully, his plan was foiled, and no one was seriously injured. I know it was a plot to do me in as he didn't even cry over the electrocution, so he had obviously braced himself for it. An attempt on my life by my own child....I never thought I'd have to go through this

When I die, please take up a collection and send flowers to the funeral"

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Grasping at Straws

Why do I even buy toys...

Who Me?

I am doing nothing...I'm flossing..

Flinging the straws as far as I can- it wasn't me!!

However, they are tasty...


And I'm done with this...

Friday, September 7, 2007


I hate gym day at school. That means I can't be lazy and put Big in sandals for school. I have to get gym shoes and socks out...what a pain. I finally found Big's gym shoes in the closet that he "checked all over in twice". I got him a pair of socks to put on and I think they may have been my socks- we both have the same type of socks, so they look the same. Anyway, he cracks me up with how he puts on his socks. Today he has khaki shorts on and a button up shirt. His gym shoes are black with pirate skulls on the back. His socks are white and since they are probably mine, pulled up to just below his knee. Then he folds the top down about halfway- so now the top is slightly lower than mid-calf. Then he folds the top of that fold down again to just above the first cuff so he can see the gold stitching. He insists that this is the only way to fold socks down and concentrates furiously on getting it just right all the way around and then happily jaunts off to school in his mid-calf cuffed socks. I need to get him ankle socks...

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Existentialist 5 year old

My first blog entry from 2 years ago on Myspace...I like it, so I'm copying it here.

The joys of having a five year old. Big has always been too smart for his own good. Some days like today, I feel he is too smart for my own good! He has come full fledged into the "question" phase of his young life. He has asked me "normal" questions like "Why is the sky blue?", "Why can't I get everything I want?" and of course "How did the baby get in your tummy?" He has also asked me such gems as "Why do people have to die?" "Why are we alive?", "How can I talk to God?" and "Why doesn't he talk back?"

Yesterday he asked me another fantastic Big-ism. We were sitting at the table when he looked over at me and said--

"Mommy, what if this is all just a big dream?"

I said "What if what is a big dream?"

He replied, "This...everything around us...what if this is all just one big long dream?"

My response...I said "That would be pretty neat wouldn't it--"

Then he cut me off and said "Well, I don't think it is a dream, there is too much real stuff here, stuff I can feel and touch."

Hmmm...perhaps he's to be a Paleontologist...or perhaps an Existential Philosopher.

This was all of course after we got into a squabble b/c he asked me to help him spell a word, and midway through the word, forgot what word he was trying to write and forgot why he was writing it! (For the record...the word was THINK)

The joys of motherhood, cleaning a poopy butt one minute, contemplating the meaning of life the next.