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Showing posts from March, 2011

This is Beepin' Awesome

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Car trip dialogue overheard today:
Lady E: Well, I can't say that word, Tallulah! It's just the d-word.
Little T: But what is the d-word?
Lady E: I can't say it! Mom hasn't had The Talk with me yet, and dad hasn't had The Talk with me either, so I can't use words like that.
Me, interjecting from the front seat: What word is that, honey?
Lady E: Do I say it? Or spell it?
Me: Go ahead and spell it.
Lady E: d...a...n...um...t?
Me: Go ahead and say it.
Lady E: Dangit! I can't say that yet, because you haven't had The Talk with me yet.
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Lady E: There are a lot of letter words I don't say, but the one I won't even spell is the b-word. I just won't even say that or spell it. And there's the f-word. That one is bad. But I don't actually know what it is.
pause
Mom, is the f-word the one where you're talking and then you stop talking and then you say BEEEEEEEEP and then you keep talking? Mom? What are you laughing about, Mom?
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We…

Little T Shows Me Some Love

My pierced earring holes are non-functional.
This distresses my daughters, who are all about the ear bling. Two have pierced ears; the other -- the Little T of my title -- will when she turns six. The age of 6 is entirely arbitrary. I had no plans for ear piercings, no magic age when it was time for piercings. But then, sometime before Lalaloopsie turned 6 (that's my oldest daughter), she and I decided to get her some holes for her birthday, and thus began the 6th birthday girl tradition in our family.
But my four ear holes, three on the left side, one on the right (it was the 80's) are mostly closed up. Every so often, I try to force earrings through them, draw blood, and give up.
Back in the day, I was an earring-wearing fool. Dangly, turquoise, beaded, homemade, looped, Telegraph Ave. purchased, the more the merrier, I loved earrings and had an extensive collection. My mom, sister and I gave earrings for most gift occasions and admired each others' baubles. It was …

Why Information Is Good for Kids

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image credit: www.cksinfo.com
My 12 year old son has discovered the movie Stand By Me. Classic, wonderful, fantastic movie, especially for teen boys. Granted, twelve is more tween than teen, but he is straining against that particular boundary with every ounce of his hormone-ravaged puberty-bound person.
So I let him watch that movie. It has since become his favorite of all time, and we've had some great conversations, about fathers and sons, about profanity, about friendship and cruelty, about story-telling, and more. Apparently, one of the words used in this movie is also a word he asked me the meaning of years ago. At the time and at his age -- maybe 8? -- it seemed entirely inappropriate to really answer his question, so I opted for the following: "Oh, that's another word for kitty-cat!"
Those of you familiar with the movie will surely remember Vern, the chubby kid who provided so many classic moments. ("That's easy. Pez. Cherry flavored Pez. No qu…

How's This for an Alarm Clock

Hello Blogger my old friend,I've come to write for you again. Because a notion softly creeping, Came inside while I was (not) sleeping. And the children that are sucking all my time Still do whine... And drown out sounds of silence.
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It's 5:15am. My heart is pounding. I have just averted disaster, and I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet.
A few short moments ago, I was sleeping like a baby, a baby who shares her bed with too many other babies and is forced to make due with a small sliver of space so close to the edge of the bed the right side of her body actually gets a work out while sleeping, such is the effort to prevent falling onto the cold, hard-wood floor.
So it wasn't that restful to begin with, but at this point in my parenting, I take any sleep that knocks on my door with a "yes please and thank you for coming" and I don't complain. I sleep.
I came slightly awake when I heard another child come into the room. Two were already sprawled behind m…

Help Me Get My Techno Geek On

Got an iphone. Learning to use it. Kind of have a love-hate thing going on with it.
Do any of you bloggers out there mobile blog? Have you tried different blogging apps? What are my options? You know, cuz I jet set a lot, and have my most brilliant ideas when I am carpooling to exotic destinations like soccer practice.
If you blog from your phone, do you like having this ability? Has it proven useful, or just so-so? What do these apps reasonably cost?
An inquiring blogger wants to know.
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Ask Me Anything. Except That.

I finally had to have the talk, the one I’ve been dreading, with my daughters. I know, I know, there comes a time in every child’s life when she asks big questions. I had just hoped to have a few more years before dealing with certain issues, a few more precious years of preserving their ignorance and avoiding delicate topics. As a parent, I consider myself fairly well prepared for most of life’s tough questions. But this one? Not so much. I just didn’t want to have this talk. Didn’t want to justify my own behavior. Didn’t want to talk about how old is old enough for certain behaviors and habits. Didn’t want to answer any detailed questions. Didn’t want to give away too many of my secrets.But today, a day that seemed ordinary in every way, the question came my way:

Is coffee good for you?There is no right answer to that question.

Poor Widdle Neglected Blog

Between working on my annual design project, managing eighty-bazillion soccer try-outs, and trying to learn how to use my stupid fancy new iPhone, my poor widdle blog has been sorely neglected.
If anyone is still reading this: Your visit is important to me! All of my energy is currently busy responding to other demands. Please stand by. Hopefully, there will be something interesting to read in this space soon. Your visit will not be monitored or recorded for quality assurance, but let's hope I write something of quality again someday. The management thanks you.
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Always Be Polite

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When my 6 year old daughter is out in public and needs to throw out some trash, she first looks to see if the public trash can has a THANK YOU printed on it.
If it does, after she tosses her garbage, she says "You're welcome" and does this goofy little curtsey thing.
And I am just enough of a mushy-head to think that's the cutest thing ever.

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