I just noticed that someone wiped a toothpasted mouth on the glass portion of the tv cabinet. That means said person carried a mouth full of toothpaste downstairs and then wiped it on the glass. Why? And how? Did the urge to spit not overcome them on the trip down the staircase?
Category Archives: Donna being Donna
Today was a whirlwind of activity: first a birthday party for a sweet little friend at one of those indoor jumpy castle places and then a trip to Kohl’s to buy some swim shirts and shorts for Henry and (I think?) Rhys. I’m actually not sure who got what, now. It really doesn’t matter, they’re virtually the same size except Henry has a longer torso and can wear bigger shirts.
At the party they jumped and jumped and climbed and slid and stood in the “hurricane tunnel” to cool off and had a great time. I even got in on the action and went down the slide with Sarah. Wow. I hope I never have to de-plane on one of those slides because I will soil myself on the way down if today’s slide is any indication of what those things are like. Here’s a shot of me and Sarah on the way down. If you will notice, I have an arm out to slow us down, the other appears to be wrapped around Sarah’s throat. I don’t think it was because I clearly remember her screaming for her life also. Captured below for all time: mother and daughter, hysterical in the middle of Pump it Up at 10:30 am on a Friday on an inflatable slide, which is basically the length (to say nothing of width) of my person.
After all the jumping and sliding, there was pizza and birthday cake and ice cream. All three kids ate cake, though Henry told me afterwards he was scared because we couldn’t find out from the label whether the cake had a nut warning on it. Since it was just a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting from Target, I figured they were probably safe. There was a nurse there, I had my epi-pens and benadryl just in case and there was an ER across the street. We were covered. Fortunately nothing happened and they survived. I was not worried, but he was. I wish he’d told me while we were there instead of just eating it, I would have gladly eaten his piece! He looked so sad on the way out, I thought something had happened but he said he was just worried about the cake. On one hand I am glad I have such a conscientious child, but on the other I hate that he’s literally scared to try things. We didn’t look at the pizza box either, but that didn’t worry him. Just the cake. Interesting. I’m going to tell him from now on if he’s not comfortable to just tell whoever is serving “No, thank you.” No big deal. Just saying “No thanks,” because you’re squirrley about the ingredients makes you look and especially feel, like less of an oddball than going into a long diatribe about having a peanut allergy and looking at the box and…goodness, we impose and it drives me nuts! That pun was not intentional. I hate being “THAT FAMILY.” The “Can I see the label?” mom. Well, anyway, everything was fine and the point of this was that they had full bellies and were happy – if worried needlessly.
Which brings me to Kohl’s. We went past the men’s section and I grabbed a few shirts for Dave to even out what I was about to buy for myself, and then we went through the shoe department and I gave it a thorough once-over but didn’t see anything spectacular. Moving on, we came to the dishes and the boys wanted to look at – hand to forehead here – serving dishes because we saw them on Martha Stewart yesterday. Yes, they watch her show. I told them she went to jail. I didn’t know how to explain insider trading so I just said she did something bad with money. But before I could get that out, Rhys asked,
“Did she go to jail for bad cooking?”
No, even if she did cook calf liver and onions yesterday. Organ meat: not a fan.
When we got to the entire reason for being at Kohl’s, which was to get swim shirts and shorts for the boys, Rhys said he had to go to the bathroom and it was urgent. Off we went. He wanted to go in the men’s room alone (NO!) but I made us all go into the family bathroom because I figured 3/4ths of us would probably end up going.
As we entered (he burst into the room before I could get Sarah out of the cart/stroller thing) I said the “Please Lord protect him from the commode germs” prayer and sure enough, he was sitting on the toilet. Gag. But remember Donna, it is cleaner than the door handle. Probably.
And then he was done! But then Henry announced he needed to sit down too. Gaah!! Ebola! Blech! As I was trying to help Henry fix the paper toilet seat thing, Rhys asked me,
“Mama, can I have a quarter so I can get a napkin?”
“A napkin. They’re on the wall, I need one to wipe my face.”
And I laughed so loudly I am sure half of Kohl’s heard me.
After that, we left and that pretty much made my day. I’m totally telling this story at his wedding, complete with how I visualized him wiping birthday cake off his chin with a napkin. The kind that comes out of a wall dispenser, I mean.
After thought: Now I’m wondering – HOW did that child know it said napkin?? I think he lies and says he can’t read so I’ll do it for him. It wouldn’t surprise me, he lies and says his legs won’t work and asks me to carry him to the dinner table but then you say “cookie” and he all comes running. I also caught him touching the mannequin boobs today too. Lord, help us in the teen years with this one.
Just a reminder that this offer is still available!
If you are a homeschool family, here's a nice program for kids in grades K-6! Through September 1st, head on over here and fill out the form to request free BOOK IT! materials for the 2013-14 Pizza Hut BOOK IT! Program - which was established over 27 years ago to help motivate children to read more!
I have a new love and its name is kombucha. It's a fermented beverage, dating back thousands of years. Yes, it kinda tastes like easter egg dye, but it's fizzy and delicious at the same time. And it's full of probiotics and helps right all the wrongs in your GI tract if yours is like mine (i.e.; not moving). I've drank it on and off for years, but recently got serious about drinking it routinely to see if it could help me feel better.
It’s officially sprummer and I am so excited! You know the season where one day you’re excited because you can wear a short sleeved shirt, but you have to settle for pants, the next day your fishing a heavy sweater out of the tupperware tote bin you thought you wouldn’t have to lay eyes on until next winter? And then SURPRISE! Just when you didn’t bother to shave your legs, the next day it’s 95*F outside! So you sweat in your jeans, or wear really low capris and sit with your ankles crossed and hope no one looks down.
I’ve gotten some cool and inexpensive things this spring to liven up my post-maternity wardrobe (yeah, she’s turning two and we’re not having anymore so it’s about time). I got a green 3/4-length sweater set from Ann Taylor, a bunch of tee-shirts from Target (love! But if you buy one with writing on it, go UP a size, they are not stretchy!), some shorts from Target, two pair of Lucky Brand sandals (Milan 2 – canvas and canvas/blue stripe – LOVE the latter), and a new whitish/creamish purse and some scarves to mix in with older pieces so they look newer. I think that’s it. Part of that was for Mother’s day, part was my “Teacher of the Year” award. *snicker*
I think the pollen is finally gone. Why did I type that? It’s like an automatic electronic groundhog burrowing in and cursing us with six more weeks of pollen. Maybe I should erase that.
So many things have happened since I last blogged I’m not sure where to start. Not huge things, just tiny little things that are hilarious, that I should record daily HERE instead of Facebook, where they’re lost forever. Lots of funny quotes from the kids, silly acts I’ve caught them committing, that sort of thing.
They’re all bursting with excitement because Grandma is coming up today to spend today through Wednesday or (I suspect) Thursday with us. I’m going to the Classical Conversations praciticum in Durham from Monday through Wednesday (so if you read this and I’ve never met you and you are going to be there – please introduce yourself!!! I’ll be the one that looks like me!) I’m only staying half a day. It says the second half is about Challenge and Henry is only going to be seven this summer. We may all be dead before he hits Challenge and he’ll be the first so…yeah. I’d rather spend the afternoon with my mom. When I say “we” might all be dead I mean all of us, not my mom. I realize that sounded bad; Jesus could be here within that time frame, you know? Not trying to kill you off. Or a plane could land on our house. We could be stampeded by buffalo as we drive down I-85. I could kill us with my cooking some day, I am always afraid of undercooking pork, that’s why our chops usually feel like cutting into frisbees.
I’ve gone to several CC meetings recently and met a lot of nice new ladies who will be joining us next year. I’m going to end this entry now so I can type up a new entry on what curriculums I’m using next year (and a bit about the practicum) in hopes it might help – or overwhelm, hopefully not! – and encourage and get them excited about next year’s homeschooling adventure!
NOTE: I fell directly asleep after I wrote this. And I wrote it at 6 am so if you read it’s first incarnation, it was full of errors! Fixed now.
It’s still there, great advice from friends still there too, it’s just been moved to private. I give my (oh this sounds so stupid) “nonbusiness-business card” with my email and blog address to a lot of people and I am not sure I want the first thing they see to be a mini-mental breakdown. I want them to think I’m entertaining. Well, maybe I should have left it up, because I got twice as much traffic that day than I normally do. Lookey-loos! Revel in my pain! I am a one-woman car accident. Look! There’s a bloody arm!
I’m just tired. I want to lay around in my pajamas with my feet in a bucket of cold water. That sounds weird but it always seems comforting to me. Sometimes I like to put my hands in a sink of cold water, I might do that in a minute. It’s like swimming, without the possibility of drowning.
Or maybe I’ll just take a shower and turn the water on cold. If you’re my neighbor and you hear the scream, you know I turned the water to cold.
“I hate eggs!”
“Well eggs hate you!”
“I hate my underwear!”
“Well your underwear hates you!”
Not really, but that conversation almost happened. One night this week Rhys was being beyond belligerent and refused to put on his underwear. He was rolling all around the bed – totally naked – showing me and my mom EVERYTHING he has, things I really, really have no desire to see. Positions no one should freeze in, especially when accompanied by screams and grunts.
In order to make this Circ du Sorevolting end, I tried some humor on him. I asked, “Do you want me to put your underwear on?” leaving the understood “…you?” off. He knew what I meant - do you want me to dress you? – and he screamed “NO!!”
I said, “I’m going to put it on for you, okay?”
Closer I crept to the bed with his red doggie underwear in my hand. I sat down in the chair beside his bed and proceeded to put his underwear on. He did not object, which was good, we were making progress. Well, not really.
I couldn’t really get them up past my shins. When he looked over and saw that I literally meant, “I’m putting on your underwear,” he started laughing and tried to get the underwear off. I let him have it and he got dressed.
Now, am I going to have to start putting on size 5T pants in order to motivate him to get going on Sunday mornings? I think not.
This time in video format for your convenience. Just take me into the kitchen with you and get your cook on!
I’m tired of hearing complaints about food. I bought this awesome buckwheat pancake mix and made it for the kids last week. Everyone loved it except for Rhys, who wouldn’t taste it because I made the mistake of saying the word “buckwheat.” I guess it sounded nasty or something. Today I bought some more when I went to Earth Fare and I was excited to show Henry because we both loved the pancakes so much. When I pulled the box out of the bag Henry cheered and Rhys snarled,
“I HATE those pancakes!”
Fast-forward an hour and Dave and I were discussing what we wanted for dinner. I said I was thinking about making sausage and eggs and…
“I HATE EGGS!” Rhys yelled.
Fed up, I said, “Well eggs hate you!”
(he knows I’m kidding, we don’t need therapy)