Morning Attitudes

Overheard this morning, while getting ready:

Mom: "Jack, do you want to snuggle on the couch for a while? I can get you lots of cozy blankets"
Jack: "No! Then I'll be too hot! Like a grilled cheese sandwich!"
Mom: "Well, a grilled cheese sandwich is yummy!"
Jack: "Do I look like a grilled cheese sandwich? I don't think so! That doesn't even make sense! Arghhh!!"

Ellie: "Mom, I saw Daddy walk out the door to go to work"
Mom: "That's right, he'll be back at dinnertime"
Ellie: "But he didn't take his suitcases!"
Mom: "Well, this time he's not going on a trip, just to work"
Ellie: "But he needs his suitcases! It has his equipment! He'll have to work with his hands! That doesn't even make sense!"

Mom: "Ellie, time to get your coat on to go"
Ellie: "I don't want to go!"
Mom: "Well, you have to anyway"
Ellie: "Well, then, I'm just going to go up to my room and have an attitude!"

Sounds good - can I go up to my room and have an attitude?

Ralphie's Dad

So I know you've seen "A Christmas Story" before. (If not, get thee to a Redbox immediately, you heathen!) Remember Ralphie's dad? How he'd curse a blue streak while fixing the always-broken furnace? He'd go off on this 5-minute tirade of unintelligible cuss words that was just plain artistry.

Well, that's my house right now.

Jared has some time off over the holidays, and I have to work, which means I get to sit at my desk and listen to him doing projects around the house. Which pretty much sounds like this (Mom Sorenson, close your eyes!):

"Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t"

"These kids are ruining my house"

"F*ck, f*ck, balls, balls"

"I don't have the right tools for this job. How can a man get stuff done around the house without the right tools."

"Flibbity, flobbity, arghhh, arghhh"

"Did you see what these kids did to my house? Where's the camera! I want to take a picture of what these kids have done to my house!"

"LYDIA!!! Look at this shoddy workmanship from the builder! Can you believe that! I could have built this house 10 times better for 1/2 the cost!"

"Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t"

"Now that's nice. Baby, come and look at what your man has done!"

"Tell these kids not to touch these walls ever again or else!"

Anyone know a good handyman? Because I think I'd be willing to spend the money to keep the blood pressure down. Of course, then I wouldn't learn all these new words....

Things that made my skirt fly up today

That's a Pioneer Woman phrase - something that makes my skirt fly up. In a good way. So here's what made my skirt fly up today:

(1) My Happy Meal - So I'm sitting at my desk working, and my kids brought me up my "Happy Meal" for lunch. Turns out they're playing McDonald's with Ellie's new play cash register, and they and our babysitter made chicken nuggets and homemade french fries, and Jack decorated bags just like at Micky D's. That tickled me pink.


(2) My Christmas present from Remi - Have I mentioned how much I HATE doing crafts? And have I also mentioned how much I love when other people make me crafts? Check out my cool Christmas present. My sister-inlaw Remi made it. The photo doesn't do it justice, but obviously it's a wreath. But can you tell what it's made from? Book pages! Isn't that awesome! For a bibliophile like me, that just makes my skirt fly up. You see, you don't need to be creative, you just need to know people who are creative!


(3) The Inspector Gamache mystery novels from Louise Penny - ok, so I've only read one so far (The Brutal Telling), but it was a really good book, and one of those rare ones that can combine a tightly written mystery with some beautiful writing. I've already ordered the rest in the series.

Zoo Keeper Saves the Day

Well, I've discovered another reason I keep Jared around - he's a great zoo keeper.

We had to teach Jack's Sunday School class yesterday, and if I haven't told you before, let me tell you now, those kids are ANIMALS. They're beasts. They're an angry swarm of killer bees. Jack only has 6 kids in his class - just 6 cherubic little darlings - but get them together, and it's like Lord of the Flies - they turn into a growling pack of hyenas, circling you like a wounded baby zebra. When I heard we had to teach the class, I thought, ok, we'll throw a bunch of raw meat on the floor for them to fight over, and then hide under the table until the hour is up. But Jared had the crazy idea to actually TEACH them something, so I said hey, go for it. But you know, the guy pulled it off!

We got stuck with a hokey lesson - "be kind to animals" (I did note the irony) - that taught by a mere mortal would take like 5 minutes to teach. But I tell ya, Jared managed to drag that tired old lesson out for the WHOLE HOUR. Were the kids quiet and well-behaved? Absolutely not. But hey, they stayed in the room, no blood was shed, and I made it out with most of my sanity intact. And to add to that, when we got home from church, Jared actually sat with the kids and helped them build one of Jack's carpentry projects (a toolbox). Again, no bloodshed, no major messes, and I got to read my book for a whole half-hour uninterrupted. So hooray for the zookeeper!

Merry Day

Merry Christmas Day
Merry The-Day-After-The-One-Night-The-Kids-Went-To-Bed-Without-a-Fight Day
Merry Lydia-Just-How-Much-Did-You-Spend-On-These-Toys Day
Merry Enough-Trash-and-Boxes-To-Kill-A-Forest Day
Merry With-All-These-Toys-They-Still-Play-With-The-Boxes Day
Merry Pumpkin-Pie-and-Chocolate-For-Breakfast Day
Merry I'll-Start-My-Diet-Tomorrow Day
Merry How-Many-Pieces-Does-This-Dang-Toy-Have Day
Merry I-Deserve-One-More-Slice-of-Cake-For-Putting-Together-Those-Dang-Toys Day
Merry, Merry, Christmas Day.

And a merry day it was.
But now I'm tired.
Can I go to sleep now?
Thank you.
And a Merry Christmas To All.
(And to all a good night.)

(1) For Christmas Eve, we got together with our neighbors. Jared made a magnificent roast beast. For my last meal before I die, I want Jared's beef. OK, that sounded dirty. Hee hee. Let's move on. The kids acted out the Nativity. At first, the baby Jesus was a Buzz Lightyear doll. Then they decided on something more appropriate to the baby Jesus - that would be the half-naked Cabbage Patch doll.

(2) Jack and Ellie loved all their presents. Grandma and Grandpa sent play tents, which they're sleeping in as we speak.



(3) Even though putting things together makes my ears bleed, I did my duty helping assemble everything. I don't know who that lady is with the big butt and the hedgehog hair, but she's wearing my new jammies that Jared bought me. Don't worry, I'm not letting her get her chubby little paws on my new VanHeusen purse.

(4) Ellie loves music, and loved her harmonica (which yes, will drive me crazy in the days to come, but for now we'll enjoy it).

(5) One of the first things Jack did after opening presents was to take one of the boxes and make a - you guessed it - Jack in the Box. He labeled it appropriately, pasted on a wind-up onto it, and dutifully hopped out at the right point of "Pop Goes the Weasel."

Christmas Rocks

There really isn't anything I don't like about Christmas. It just all rocks - the Christmas decorations (both classy and tacky - I love 'em all), the food (need I say I love it all?), the songs, the Christmas cards (yes, even with the cheesy brag letters), even the crowds I can put up with because they're related to Christmas. So at Christmastime, there's really very little that can put me in a bad mood.

Well, except for kids that won't go to bed. That kinda pisses me off.

And a cold that I've had for like 3 weeks now and won't go away. That kinda peeves me too.

And a husband who watches, from the couch, as I chase the not-going-to-bed-kids around while hacking and coughing up most of my internal organs. I admit, that irks me.

But other than that? It's all good.

Like, have you see the Portable North Pole? It's this really cool app you can use so that Santa can send your kids a personalized video message. My sister-inlaw Lindsey sent it to our kids, and they LOVED it. Ellie kept talking back to the video, and Jack kept whispering to me "how did he know that about me? Santa really DOES know everything!" Here's the link if you haven't seen it: http://www.portablenorthpole.tv/home

We also had the kids' school Christmas parties today. Since they were at the same time, Jared went to Jack's and I went to Ellie's. So I can't really report on Jack's (Jared's report consisted mainly of "fine"). But Ellie's program was really sweet. Just like Jack's (who went to the same preschool last year), the kids sung a bunch of sweet songs, and one slightly disturbing version of "Joy to the World" (where they pounded their fists in the air like a bunch of angry protesters). But even that frightening rendition was worth the big ol' smile on Ellie's face as she got to perform.

I'm going to remind myself to keep remembering that sweet smile as I chase her down tonight at bedtime, screaming at the top of my lungs that Santa doesn't visit little girls who don't go to bed. Add that to my list of awesome Christmas things - Santa threats. Santa threats rock.


(1) Ellie and her friends get ready for the program

(2) Ellie gives me the thumbs-up that all is well.

(3) Singing a sweet song about Baby Jesus in the hay.

(4) followed by a creepy-ass "Joy to the World." "Equal pay for equal work! Equal pay for equal work!"

Gluttony, Sweet Gluttony

In my family, holidays are inexorably tied to food, sweet food. And so it's no surprise that for my family's annual Christmas party, food was at the center of it. And at the top and the bottom and the middle and the front and the back of it. People, if you ever come to a holiday party at our house, please don't fill your plate half-full - we really will think less of you. Probably because there WILL be less of you since you'll be the only one eating in moderation. Which you'd probably think is a good thing, and that's why we'd feel so very sorry for you. But hey, back to the food.

So we started with appetizers of shrimp cocktail, bacon-wrapped water chestnuts, and a yummy antipasti platter. Then we turned to the main course of roast beast (you don't call it roast beef when it's the size that we eat - it's a beast), au gratin potatoes, tossed salad, corn pudding, spinach gratin (so yummy it'd turn the biggest spinach hater into Popeye), fresh bread, and the requisite red and green jello salads.

So we ate.

And we ate some more. Then we had desserts - it was all chocolate, all the time this year. Chocolate coconut cake, chocolate cream pie, chocolate-peanut-butter cheesecake, and a slew of cookies, brownies, and fudge.

And then as we sat around in gluttonous splendor in our stretchy stretchy pants, the kids gathered around for a special treat.

Because we had a special visitor:
Santa!

OK, not that Santa - that's Jack, continuing his phase of cardboard art. No, we got a visit from the real-life Santa.

Jack got a kick being the first to sit on Santa's lap. He loved the Tangled action figures that he got.

Never-shy Ellie chatted it up with the Big Man, and Mom spent about a half-hour trying to get the Tangled Barbie dolls out of the package.

After Santa made his exit, stage left, the kids all ran to the window to try and see his sled fly away - some claimed that they actually saw it.

After that, it was into the new Christmas pajamas and off to bed. Please don't look too closely at the iron-on'ed names on their jammies - it's photographic proof that Lydia can screw up absolutely the simplest of all craft projects. Maybe for Christmas, Santa can bring her some talent. But in the meantime, one more week 'til the Big Man comes again!

Welcome Snow

Normally I'm not a big fan of snow - ok, I hate it. I didn't always hate it - back when it meant snowball fights and hot cocoa and snow days and before it meant messy floors and bad traffic and the 20/10/20 rule (20 minutes to get snow gear on, 10 minutes out in the snow before Ellie starts whining that it's too cold, another 20 minutes to unload all the gear). But now? Kinda sorta hate it. But not today! We've had such cold, windy, yucky days this week that it was wonderful to get a beautiful, not-as-frigid, snowy day. It was only 3 inches, but in these parts, that's enough to cancel school, gymnastics, and swim class, which meant the kids got to have a true snow day. True, we didn't spend more than about 10 minutes each time out there before having to retreat to the warmth, but it was worth it to see the neighborhood again.

Jack loved seeing all the neighborhood kids - everyone's been hunkering inside avoiding the cold

This was about 15 seconds before Ellie declared that we were done with the snow - until next time!

Can't Judge a Book

You know, I've always prided myself in not judging people by how they look or speak or dress or whatever. I was lucky to grow up exposed to a lot of different types of people all in my family - a couple cousins who are billionaires, a couple who are "redneck" trailer park residents, some of one religion, some of another, a handful of Ph.D.s, a couple high school dropouts, you name it. And it's true - you really can't judge how smart or fun or kind or good a person is by any of that on-the-surface stuff. So that's why it really pisses me off when I fall prey to it.

Let's take Christmas. This year I really wanted to get Jack and Ellie things that were really personalized for them - what they would really like not just on Christmas Day but long after, and not fall victim to all the "bling." So I got Jack a carpentry kit since he loves building stuff, Ellie a karaoke game because she loves music, art stuff for Jack, pretend-play stuff for Ellie - the kind of stuff they'll like. Good, quality stuff.

And then last night I wrapped everything up. And stood back. And looked. And thought. Hmmm. It just didn't LOOK like Christmas. Just not...shiny enough. Not enough "bling." And so I caved. And off to Target I ran, buying up a bunch of $5 Dora and Buzz and princess CRAP that will fall apart in a couple weeks but that will LOOK like Christmas.

Can you say putz? Because that's what I am. Sigh.

But don't worry, I'm going to hold to SOME of my principles. Tonight is Book Club - each year we have a book swap (you know, kind of like a white elephant swap - you wrap the books, choose a number, and when it's your turn you can either take a wrapped one or steal from the person before you). And each year - EACH YEAR, PEOPLE - mine is the last one chosen, not because of the book (because you can't see the book after all) but because I don't bother to use fancy wrapping paper and ribbons and bows and froo-froo crap. Each year.

So what am I doing this year? Just the same, baby. Plain, simple Christmas wrapping paper. And if it's chosen last? So be it. Their loss. Because you can't judge a book by its cover - or by its wrapping paper.

We're getting ready!

Oh, my friends, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere I go! (Feel free to break into song if you want - I don't mind)

I'm back in the land of the living, after a bout of jungle disease (stomach flu), followed by an inner ear problem that left me staggering around like a drunken sailor (except without the fun of having gotten drunk).

So now I'm back. And excited for Christmas. Those are my mom's Santa cookies above. Every year she makes sugar cookies decorated as Santas, snowmen, stars, and Christmas trees. They're yummy and they just remind me of my childhood. So I'm getting my stretchy pants ready to eat them.


Jack and Ellie are getting ready to eat, too. They seem to have inherited their mom's sweet tooth, poor things.


And they're getting ready for all the toys they think Santa is going to bring them. I say "think" because I know for sure that Santa can't fit a playhouse on his sleigh. Sorry Ellie. If you see Ellie before Christmas, please remind her of Santa's space constraints. (Oh, and that's not Ellie above - that's Jack's cousin Jane - when I asked Jack and Jane if they were excited for Christmas, apparently they needed to answer me Harry Potter-style. They never did answer my question about Christmas, but hey.)


Since Jack and Ellie have been giving me bedtime headaches lately, I've been reminding them that Santa won't be able to come on Christmas Eve until they're sleeping. So they've decided that they're going to practice fake sleeping so that they can psych out Santa. Hmmm, I don't know, do you think Santa will be fooled? Amateurs.

Someone's got the right idea

Now, doesn't that just look comfy cozy? See, that's the problem with being a mom. On those mornings where you feel like just staying curled up in bed all morning (oh, I don't know, like today), you still gotta get up.

Exhibit A

I'm slowly compiling evidence that I'll eventually need to commit my folks to an old-age home. And don't worry, Mom and Dad, that time is not now. But if you taught me one thing it's "be prepared." Well, actually, mainly you taught me "take your Vitamin C," "Big Government is bad," and "any problem can be solved with a good, stiff diet drink." But I think preparation was in there somewhere. So I'm getting prepared.

I present to you Exhibit A.

Look carefully.

That's pretty much a tombstone.

It's on my parents' property.

Buried underneath that tombstone is our beloved dog. (Yes, he did die before they buried him there.)

Look carefully at the names on the tombstone.

Was his name Harold?

No, his name was Sam. Harold's nowhere in his name. Or our name. Well, there's an Uncle Harold, but I'm pretty sure he's not buried there.

So, see, my parents buried their beloved dog Sam, but felt that there needed to be some kind of remembrance there. My brother (equally nutty, I'm building his commitment case as well), who is a town manager, had a "leftover" (?) tombstone that was being removed from somewhere. There was a story attached, but it just confused me. So anyhow, he brought it down, and they installed the "Harold" tombstone to mark Sam's grave. (So imagine this photo without the top part.)

So for months and months, we had a tombstone for "Harold" on my parents' property. I lived in daily fear that someone would come down there and think that my parents killed some poor schlub named Harold. Perhaps someone from The Government.

So just recently, my parents bought a "Sam" plaque - but did they cover up the "Harold" part? No, they just put the "Sam" part on top, leaving the "Harold" part there.

So. What - his last name is Harold? You buried someone named Sam AND someone named Harold?

I just. I just. Sigh. It just makes my head hurt.

And so I give you Exhibit A.

Love,
Lydia

No, it's Lydia. Not Jeanene. No, not Jeanette. Lydia. The middle one. You know, the short one with the brown hair. Yeah, that one.

Kung Fu Wisdom

Overheard in the car today....

Ellie: "Stupid, caca, shut up, poop; stupid, caca, shut up, poop" (sung in rap-like rhythm)

Jack: "Ellie, you need to change your attitude now! You're not in Karate Kid, like when that man told his students to do bad things! What are you, in China or something? No, you're not in China! So change your attitude!"

Well said, Grasshopper, well said.

All They Want for Christmas is....

A box, apparently.

I just finished all my Christmas shopping. But I'm realizing now that I could have saved a lot of money and instead of getting my kids toys, just get them boxes. Just plain ol' cardboard boxes.

Because every time I turn around they've found a cardboard box somewhere and are busily cutting and coloring and taping.

Here are their "race car beds." They actually slept in these last night. Yes, my children slept in cardboard boxes. But hey, they have handy cupholders, so I'm not a neglectful parent or anything, right?

Or Jack's "robot head." He does quite the impressive robot dance in it. Although the eye holes are a bit off-kilter, so he tends to bang into walls. But hey, that's funny, too.

And don't forget his horse, which he rode around the house almost all day. No, that's not a giraffe, it's just a long-necked horse. I asked him, and got quite the stink-eye in return for not seeing that it's a beautifully long-necked horse.

And around the house you'll find cardboard paper towel roll telescopes, forts, weapons, place settings, and animals (along with the carnage that comes along with a 3-year-old and 5-year-old cutting things out of cardboard boxes with blunt kid scissors).

So, please, if you see my kids wandering the streets in cardboard clothes, I ASSURE you, we DO feed and clothe our kids, we DO buy them toys. But really, all they want are the boxes....

What a Sap, Part 2

My sappiness just never ends, I tell you.

Welcome to the Sorenson Home for Wayward Pets.

Our friends asked us to watch their fish while they went on vacation. But did they want it back? Turns out, not so much. And the kids of course had fallen in love with the stinkin' fish. And then our friend's daughter mentioned the dreaded "I'll probably just flush it" - and yup, you betcha, I'm a sap, can't bear the thought of the poor fishie going to Toilet Heaven.

Welcome, Bingo Sorenson, to the House of Sap.

What a Sap

I really am. Feel free to mock me. I would mock myself if I could.

You see, Jared and I had this great idea to take a quick trip to Puerto Rico for a very delayed honeymoon. (Being the crazy kids that we are, we eloped, you see, and never had a honeymoon. Add in a pregnancy just a few months later, then a deployment a couple months after that, then two hyper children, and you get no Jared-and-Lydia-alone vacations.) Jared knew he'd have off the weekend after Thanksgiving, so we cashed in a bunch of frequent flier miles and scheduled a crazy little weekend in San Juan.

Fast forward to two nights before the trip. Lying in bed, contemplating the wondrous weekend ahead of us. And Jared starts in. "Hey, are you a little worried about leaving the kids alone" (um, no) "You know, if we die in a fiery plane crash over San Juan" (well...) "Or if the babysitter has an accident with the kids and we're not here" (um...) "Or if we die suddenly and leave the kids orphaned and all alone with nobody to love them like we love them and....and....and....."

By this point I'm a sad little puddle on the floor.

Five minutes later we're buying - at an exorbitant price that I won't even mention out of shame - plane tickets to bring our kids with us on our honeymoon to San Juan.

What a sap I am.

What. A. Sap.

The Holiday Photo We Won't Be Sending Out

Right around Thanksgiving we have our family photo taken for our holiday card. And I really, really hate it. Because when I take family photos, I realize three unfortunate things:
(1) I can't control my kids even for the 2 minutes it takes to snap a picture
(2) I really do look my age
(3) Ellie really is plotting my untimely death - look at that face and tell me different, people
(4) I really am a selfish b*tch, because I tell ya, when I DO choose our family photo, there will only be one criterion - that I don't look horrible. Don't care if Ellie is picking her nose, Jack is cross-eyed, or Jared looks like a troll, I'm only looking to minimize the "who is that old hag with Jared" response.

So there it is.

So we'll try another photo.

In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving!

The Purpose of My Life

That pretty much sums things up. Or perhaps the purpose of my life is to make you feel good about yours.

Like today, when some men from our church came to visit. If you think your kids behave badly with guests over, man, you don't KNOW bad behavior! There was Ellie, running around in circles and screaming and "singing" (read: yelling) the Head Shoulders Knees and Toes song. When she'd had her fill of that, she began doing somersaults all around the room. I tried my best, people, I really did. I pulled her out of the room a dozen times, reasoning, begging, pleading, bribing, threatening, all to no avail. Alas, all I could do was hope that they would see how well-behaved Jack was and give me SOME credit - and that's about when Jack emerged from the playroom .... in a Cinderella costume.

So I guess the moral of the story is - use me as an example. When you're wondering how best to raise well-mannered, polite children, observe my parenting techniques - and do the exact opposite.

Thanksgiving Beast

So Jack and Ellie both had their Thanksgiving celebrations at school yesterday. Ellie's was kids-only - they made Native American costumes, way too many crafts (just what am I supposed to do with all these paper turkeys?), and a big Thanksgiving "beast" (read: "feast," for those not as fast and loose with their consonants as Ellie is). The kindergarten classes at Jack's school put on a little program with some cute songs, and had the parents come in and help with crafts. Thankfully, they kept the crafts simple enough that I could actually help Jack with them (and yes, when they mentioned doing a craft, I really did worry that a kindergarten craft would be too complex for me - that's how bad I am).

(1) Jack was so excited to have me there - he showed me all around the room, and even wanted to give me a tour of the bathroom (I politely declined - would you want to tour a bathroom used by 20 kindergartners?)

(2) Getting ready for the program

(3) Jack's favorite part of the program was to be a Native American man, "big and brave!" Jack decided that his Native American name was "Wolf." Ellie said hers was "Eck," but then said, no, that doesn't sound Native American, so she then decided her Native American name was "Tree Stand."

(4) Ellie: "I'm an Indian, not an Indian from India. I'm just an Indian from the classroom. Mom, what do you call an Indian from the classroom?"
Mom: "A Native American?"
Ellie: "Yeah, I'm a Native American from the classroom"

(5) Jack: "I'm an American from the olden days. They didn't have bathrooms in the olden days. They goed bathroom in outhouses. They didn't wash their hands. That's really gross. I don't think I'd want to use an outhouse because that would be gross to not wash your hands and have pee hands....but it would be cool to wipe your butt with a leaf."

Happy Birthday to Me

Since it's my birthday, I'm declaring it Lydia Day today. And in honor of Lydia Day, you must do the following:

(1) Eat A LOT of chocolate. Don't worry about the calories. This is for a holiday, dangit.

(2) Drink a nice, cold Diet Dr. Pepper. Not out of the fountain, straight out of the bottle or can. Refer to it as "mother's milk."

(3) Wear sweatpants, or something with a lot of elastic. There's no reason to feel chubby on Lydia Day.

(4) Duplicate this haircut. I dare you to be that groovy.

(5) At some point in the day, say the following (making sure there are plenty of witnesses):

"I don't know how Lydia does it. So remarkable. So talented. And so stinkin' skinny! How ever does she do it all? If we were all like Lydia, wouldn't the world just be a bit better place? But boy, I wish she'd put on a few pounds, she's just too skinny."

Wishing you a Very Merry Lydia Day-

Sleepovers and Hangovers

Most Friday nights when Jared's in town, we do a family sleepover. We grab a pizza and a movie, pull out the sleeper sofa for us and some mattresses and sleeping bags for the kids, and all sleep together in the family room. The good part is that the kids just love it, and Jared loves the togetherness after being gone so long. The bad part? Well, after doing single mom duty the whole time Jared's gone, I'm kinda fed up with all the togetherness and could use an evening WITHOUT the kids climbing all over me and keeping me up at night. Oh, and not to mention that in the morning I have to deal with this.


Jared, are you going to help me clean up? Jared? Are you awake? Jared?

Overheard in the Car

(Otherwise known as "be careful what you say in front of them")

(Ellie drops something on the floor)
Ellie: "Dangit, I dropped my stinkin' crappin' paper, Mom!"

(Ellie and Jack arguing over which CD to listen to)
Jack: "You know, you're not the only person on this planet, Ellie, there are other people, and they want things too!"

(Ellie and Jack arguing about who-knows-what)
Ellie: "You're being mean. And nobody likes mean people. If you keep acting mean, no one is going to want to be your friend!"

(Ellie asks Jack to pass her something)
Jack: "Do I look like your butler? Am I wearing a butler suit? I don't think so!"

(Jack drops something on the floor - trust me, you don't want to touch our floors)
Jack: "Arghhhhh! I dropped my stinkin', crappin' toy!"


For the record, I never say stinkin' crappin'. Hardly ever. Very rarely.

OK. Whatever. So sue me. Who cares about your stinkin', crappin' opinion anyway.

A Song by Ellie

"Couscous"*
by Ellie

Rain is falling all around
So raise your hands up to the sky
And shake your booty in the house
And ring around the rosy now
With the itsy bitsy spider here
And clap your hands and stand in line
and shake your booty in the light
And rain is falling on my head
Couscous! Couscous! Couscous! Couscous!


*Later, she changed the title to "Poop in the Potty," but I chose to stick with the more family-friendly "Couscous"

Go Team

I'm all about the sports these days. No, silly, not for me - sadly for my husband, I'm definitely an inside girl. But man, have they been a lifesaver for the kids. They're both in school now, and because of the weirdo time schedule for "afternoon kindergarten," we have to be at the bus stop by 11:15, which translates to lunch by like 10:30 in the morning. Needless to say, not a whole lot of time to do things in the morning. So basically, by the time they get home from school, they are bouncing off the walls. So a big hallelujah for kids' sports.

We lucked out this Fall and got Jack into a neighborhood soccer coop. He's done soccer a few seasons with the local league, but he really never did much besides look really incredibly bored. But then a gal from our neighborhood pulled together a little coop with just 8 kids from the neighborhood - all kids that Jack plays with already - and it was magic. They have a blast, and they're finally to the age that they actually play real soccer a bit! This spring, the coop is going to try flag football or t-ball, so I can't wait.

(Hard to tell, but they actually ran toward the correct goals and everything)

(They even got cute little trophies)


Meanwhile, Ellie has been having a ball with gymnastics. It's fun to see her run around the different bars and beams - she attacks them with such gusto that even when she sucks at it, it looks impressive.

(Look at that form and concentration, people. Or whatever you're supposed to say about gymnastics. I'm not really sure.)


And Jack and Ellie have been taking swim lessons over at the rec center. They're actually becoming pretty good little swimmers. And I've decided that I worship their teacher, Mr. Travis. He's awesome with the kids - they've got smiles plastered on their faces from start to finish, and unlike the other 99% of their day, they actually LISTEN to him. It's positively amazing. I might just have to marry him so that there is someone in the house they'll listen to....and I might just get a discount on the swimming lessons. Although, given Mr. Travis's probable age of 20, might want to go the adoption route instead.

(Sorry, no picture of Studly Mr. Travis. You'll just have to use your imagination.)