a poor idiot from watts

i'm pretty sure this was a racist encounter. i'm not positive, probably because i'm a rich smart girl from boston, immune to these things. but it went a little something like this:

skip is at the dentist, wearing his uniform because it's the middle of a work day. first off, the dentist begins complaining about having to go to his son's wedding in a week. skip mentions our anniversary is coming up in a week. the dentist replies,

"what idiot gets married in december?"

awkward silence. the dentist then says, "SO! i see you're in the army. did you grow up poor?"

awkward silence again. only momentarily, though, as skip explains to doctor dingaling that no, actually, he didn't. both of his parents had decent jobs, and they did well, especially considering he grew up in los angeles.

"oh! los angeles?" asks dr. d. "what part? watts?"

at this point, skip realizes he should bite his tongue...figuratively, of course, since the dentist's hands are in his mouth. although this is the very reason he is biting his tongue. something about facing off with the guy holding the tools and anesthesia seems questionable.

but who says stuff like that? i'm beginning to wonder if the guy has a white hood to go along with that white coat he's wearing. in less than 3 breaths, the man implied my husband was an idiot, poor, and from the "city most likely to riot" in california. what's with the stereotyping? i think i'll send him a christmas card this year, complete with his very own noose ornament to hang on his tree.

DOMINO!

we like to play a game at night before we go to bed. sometimes it's rummy, or scrabble, or "hurry and do some laundry so the kids have clean underwear for school." you know, the typical games for grownups. last night it was dominoes. i'm new to the domino world and i learned a lot of things.

1. apparently, the object is NOT to line them all up in an interesting formation and then knock one down to observe a brilliant chain reaction.

2. contrary to what i learned in many boyz-in-the-hood-esque movies, you don't have to smoke chronic while you play.

3. also, contrary to what i learned in said movie genres, it's a bad idea to throw down your winning domino and yell "DOMINO, *#@!#"

4. scoring is done by one posessing secret cult knowledge, or a basic understanding of korean charicature:



5. there is a lot of strategy involved. my strategy is to match one number to another. apprently this makes me a bad player.


6. my husband is highly amused by the phrase, "huh? i don't get it."


7. sometimes, a well-meaning husband may not understand that by playing at the highest skill level possible, he is not actually teaching his wife in-depth strategies. he is confusing her while running up a really high score for him.


8. although, according to the scoresheet, he may not be running up a really high score. he may actually be writing a thesis in korean.


9. sometimes, a crafty wife can play stupid long enough to actually get good at a game. watch out, b.


10. there is a whole separate language for this game. and contrary to the approach i was amusing myself with, it's not ebonics.


so. all in all, a fun experience. i didn't win, but i did learn several new things. the best part is how much fun we have together. i can sacrifice an occasional win for a fun-filled shellacking.

it's SMACKDOWN time.

*before i start today's lunatic rant, i just wanted to say thanks for all the email i got regarding the previous post. i have a lot of really deep thinking to do, and some "back to basics" gospel workouts. if i ever get there, i'll invite you all to my kumbayah party.

so. the other day my kindergartener asked if he could borrow my tweezers to pull out his unibrow. upon further probing, i discovered a 6th grader on the bus had been teasing him about it. he said this had been happening for about a week. so i called the bus department, and the man (named DICK, no kidding) assured me he'd look into it. i asked him to get back to me and let me know the results. he said he didn't understand what i was talking about. i said, i would like to know how the child was approached, what was said, and what the results of the conversation were. dick said, "um. oh. i guess i could call you back." i said, "that would be fantastic dick."

so dick called me this morning. he said, "we spoke to the 6th grader, and he said your son was throwing pasta at him." i said, "on friday, keola made a noodle necklace at school. he brought it home, it broke, the 6th grdaer was teasing him, so he threw a noodle at him. i'm not trying to justify my son's actions, he did get in trouble for throwing the noodle. but what was done about the teasing incidents?"
dick said, "well, the 6th grader said he only threw the noodle back because your son threw it at him first. " i said, "dick. you and i spoke last wednesday. the noodle throwing incident took place on friday. the teasing was happening before the noodle was thrown."

dick (i'm really enjoying calling him by his name) said, "well apparently your son isn't too afraid of this other boy if he's throwing pasta at him. and the other boy said he only threw back in self-defense." to which i replied, "so, dick. are you telling me pasta throwing trumps bullying in bus house rules?" "no, ma'am. nothing trumps bullying." at this point, i almost want to laugh, but i'm so annoyed with his complacency and idiocy, i just can't. but i'm laughing now. so i said to dick, "i would like to know what is going to be done to prevent this 6th grader from continuing to tease my kindergartener. in spite of his pasta throwing, he is still much smaller than the 6th grader and i would like to prevent this from escalating."

dick said, "well, your son should sit in the front of the bus and report any teasing to the bus driver immediately." i said, "is anyone going to speak to the 6th grader again and address the real issue here? what is going to be done to protect my child from being teased?" dick replied, "it's our job to protect every child on the bus. your son was throwing pasta at another child. we have an equal responsibility to both children." i said, "dick. are you kidding me? you have done nothing to protect my child. you have fully sided with the 6th grader because he had pasta thrown at him. he has taken no responsibility for his actions. what is going to be done about that?" and dick said, "well, i guess we could look into that again, and if the 6th grader needs to be written up, that's what we would do. but we can't just kick him off the bus."

at this point i could see that dick was clearly not the person i needed to be speaking with to address this issue. i told him that i had made a written note of his complacent response, of his preference towards punishing kindergarten pasta throwing over 6th grade bullying, and that i would then take it up with higher authorities.

so consider this the written note, and if you'll excuse me, i'm off to talk to the 6th grade and kindergarten principals.

...and justice for all.

i need some justice. earlier, i read a post about phunky phresh girls working out. celia, you know i got nothin but mad love for you, and i am not writing this post to rebuttle yours. but it got me thinking, and remembering, and now i'm on a tirade. why is it that skinny women are treated so meanly?! i mean, honestly! this post is not meant to offend, nor to point fingers. but i'm about to speak my mind people, so step back.
this summer at the pool, i got a very nice compliment. it went something like this: "i can't believe you've given birth to three children and can still wear a bikini. you look fantastic."
that made me feel really good. now. here's the comment i usually get: "you are so skinny, you make me sick." is that supposed to be a compliment? if so, it got lost somewhere behind the punch in the gut of being told i make someone sick. i've given it a lot of thought. i've even asked once or twice why that's an acceptable thing to say. and do you know what kind of nonchalant response i get? "oh, people are just jealous." jealous? honestly? consider:

1. if someone is jealous, that is their problem, not mine. am i jealous of sister x's perfectly behaved children in church? *ALL SIX OF THEM!!!?* yes. but do i tell her that she and her children make me sick? i do not.

2. where does the right to insult me become gratuitous? it's that concept of making yourself feel better by belittling another. but why is it socially acceptable to do it to thin women? can we walk up to an overweight woman and say, "you are so fat, you make me sick!"

3. why is it wrong to opt for a healthy lifestyle? i realize i can be obnoxiously condescending about soda drinking and fast food consumption, so i'm working on that. but why is it that in a planning meeting for a church or a school event, when i suggest we DON'T give our children soda and junk, snide remarks are made about me being skinny??? when did my defense become "no, i'm sorry, i didn't say give out hummus bars and crystal light for halloween. perhaps you misunderstood my suggestion."

i realize this post has the potential to create some unhappy feelings. not my intent. all i'm trying to say is give the skinny sistas a break. up until i injured my back, i worked really hard to exercise. and i'll admit there was a mixture of both vanity and healthiness behind that. but contrary to popular belief, thin people do not go to the gym to watch heavy people and feel better about themselves. we go to the gym because it feels good, because we want it and we like it. so the next time you see a thin woman, don't tell her she makes you sick. she may not actually have a perfect life just because she's skinny, and that might make her feel bad.

blackjack, margaritas, and religion

i went to reno for a conference. (if you are interested, it was for AFTB... Army Family Team Building, which is a program designed to link military families to the services available through the army. i am now a certified instructor for this program)

so. reno. first time going. what to say? i love people, i love making new friends. so it made me really happy to hook up with...

jenny and theo. we had a lot of fun. theo took us GV's (gambling virgins) under his wing and we hit the slot machines. major letdown there. i gave it a shot, but when surrounded by chain-smoking gambling addicts, the thrill was dulled. since neither jenny nor i could muster up enough enthusiasm to spend more than a dollar on the slots, we moved on to the blackjack tables. LET THE FUN BEGIN!

i'm no cardshark, but i enjoy a few hands of blackjack. what i don't enjoy is a sadistic israeli dealer named symi. she was BRUTAL! first she was mad bc we turned down the cocktail waitress... it's so much harder to deal to the sober. second, we interrupted her shellacking of two hammered frat boys. they were splitting hands and doubling down left and right, and symi was bathing in their money. add to that the fact that i won five hands straight, and she unleashed her fury. she barked at me for not holding my cards in the proper horizontal position. she snapped at me for not scratching the felt hard enough when i wanted a hit. she growled when my hand touched my chips mid-deal. THIS WAS THE FIVE DOLLAR TABLE! it's not like we were high-stakes folk.

anyway. i won a bunch but left with $2.50. not bad for a single $5.00 bet. but the big fun came afterwards at the sushi bar. we sat down, and the following conversation ensued:

JnT: let's order a pitcher of margaritas. what flavor do you want?

me: i don't drink.

JnT: it's fine after conference hours.

me: no, i don't mean i'm not drinking tonight. i mean i don't drink. ever.

JnT: confused silence

me: i'm mormon

J: what does that have to do with anything?

T: don't you know? jon smith said they're not allowed to drink. WAIT A MINUTE! i thought you married to a brotha?

me: you saw my family picture. you know i am.

T: i KNOW all about that. jon smith let him marry a mormon?

me: my husband is mormon too.

T: WHAT? jon smith don't like that stuff.

me: it's joseph smith. and i think you've gotten some bad information along the way.

J: so you can't have margaritas? wow. how are you different from catholics?

so at this point i have to decide whether the sushi bar at the silver legacy casino is the right place to begin "mormonism 101" with JnT. i clarified a few of theo's misconceptions, answered a couple of jenny's questions, refrained from margarita consumption, and got them to promise me the next time they see two mormon missionaries walking down the street, they'll stop them and ask them a few more things.

i had a great time. i didn't get much sleep due to a hard mattress and a crazy yearning for my husband. reno is a hideous, filthy place and there are a lot of slot machine junkies out there. but the food was excellent, i met great people, and learned a lot of things. jon smith would be proud.

this is all i have to say

(well, and i'll also say I LOVE THE RED SOX!!!!)

the down side of satin sheets for your birthday (PURELY HYPOTHETICAL!)

1. running and jumping on the bed will send you hurtling against the closest wall. (think slip-n-slide)

2. rough, dry feet make noise comparable to nails on a chalkboard.

3. any other blankets you may want to use will slip right off.

4. a chipped fingernail will snag and leave unsightly marks.

5. drool marks on pillow cannot be hidden.

6. any non-traditional positions become circus acts.

7. while the "shimmer" from the full moon at first appears romantic, by about 3:am, it's more of a glare.

(here's someone who can enjoy the satin sheets)

how many spankin's am i throwin down 2nite?

TODAY IS HIS BIRTHDAY!!!

if you know me, you know i have a 364 day countdown every year until my birthday. so who do i marry, but mr. who-cares-about-birthdays. perhaps out of sheer fear, he does remember my birthday and celebrates accordingly. but his birthday is like an afterthought. although, deep down, i can't imagine ANYONE not wanting a fuss made on their birthday. i'm sure i could be wrong, but since i'm always right, then probably not.

anyway. we've been celebrating birthday week- a gift a day, coupled with a lunch date.

monday was a new "after hours" mix cd

tuesday was tamales, refried beans and rice

wednesday was a big glass jar of mike and ikes

thursday i framed a brazilian pictures and hung them on the wall in his office. i also brought brownies into his class. and there will be a new set of satin sheets on our bed tonight.

it's been great. i'm so glad he was born! i figured i'd throw out some little known facts that may surprise you about this really great man i married:

1. he is an extremely talented trumpet player.

2. he has literally saved men's lives before... more than once.

3. he refuses to eat most vegetables, or anything from the ocean.

4. he has been to twice as many foreign countries as i have, which is a lot.

5. he is one of the few who can go toe to toe with my mother in sports debates.

6. he is a shadow puppet master.

7. he once broke a bone running away from his mother. he was actually running across the rooftops in his neighborhood, and eventually had to jump down. he's lucky he broke the bone himself, she may've broken more than one.

8. he has cheated death more than any human being i know.

9. not only does he have a great scrabble vocabulary, he has killer scrabble strategies.

10. his dream is to own and rebuild an old corvette. dreams are nice.

my husband is great. he is fun, smart, talented and good-looking. he is working on being patient and i admire that more than i can say. he shows me he loves me, he's willing to work through our differences, and when we disagree, he never gives me the silent treatment longer than 24 hours. he even reads my blog without coercion.

skip is my best friend. i love him, and being married to him is the greatest blessing in my life.

oh HELL yeah!

it's sox vs. rox now. mr. thornton... could i interest you in some red sox apparel for your children?
check out all the highlights of the best team ever and make sure you bring your big papi celebration goggles to the world series.

operation: entertain me

skip is at UofOregon for a few days, leading the cadets in ranger challenge. i feel like a lost puppy. i'm trying to keep myself busy, but frankly i've run out of things to do. here are the top 10 things i've accomplished so far:

1. i helped oprah give dave a sponge bath. (surprisingly, not as kinky as it sounds)


2. i got ellen's dog returned to her hairdresser's kids, sans violence. why can't we all just get along?


3. i volunteered to be brittany's parenting coach during her weekend visit w/sean preston and jaden. (she's doing much better, BTW, and we are now BFF's)


4. i popped into fenway to drop off a new necklace for josh beckett. (i think there was a horcrux in that other one he's been wearing.we should see an improvement)


5. called joe torre to see if he wants to be my kids' new manny. he turned me down because he's holding out for the yankees to make a better offer.


6. i went to bible study with paris hilton. new mantra: god is hot.


7. took nicole richie out for a hamburger. i convinced her "it's for the baby".


8. i helped mitt romney do his hair. (that was all day thursday)


9. i tried to resurrect they might be giants' career by posting the video of "birdhouse in your soul" on youtube under "hot new releases"


10. i helped al gore polish his new grammy award.

anyway. i'm exhausted, but still lonely. wonder what else i can come up with in the next 24 hours. wish me luck.

ovenmitt may get the sobas: political ramblings

skip emailed me a very interesting article today about my favorite republican presidential candidate. the long and short of it explained that this guy, mark demoss, has given ovenmitt romney his political endorsement. the key thing here is that mr. demoss is a soba! (following the uber-cool american trend of shortening hispanic names by using the first couple of letters, [think a-rod, j-lo, etc.] i have turned the entire populus of southern baptists into sobas). but before i get into that, here's a peek into my political self:

i'm not an intensely political person by nature. but i do enjoy following the workings of a presidential campaign, and this one leaves my democratic mind reeling. there are three democratic candidates who have caught the public's attention. one is my favorite, 2 are not. here's why:

1. hello, dying wife? refocus your attention on the things that matter, ego-maniac.

2. um, well, yeah. aside from the fact that "bush-clinton-bush-clinton" wearies me like a dull tennis match, i just can't stand her politics. or her personality.

3. now him, i like. good politics, stand-up guy, seems okay. plus, he has "obama girl". and she's a looker.

so i have to take a look at the republican party this year, a little more closely than i ever have before. we've got rudy, ovenmitt, and mr. paula deen. at least for me, those are the three with the most viable shot. my take here:

1. i think rudy, other than sharing a name with a cute huxtable, has only 9/11 as his claim to fame. his morals leave a bit to be desired; so while i like him, i won't vote for him.

2. mr. paula deen, otherwise known as "the law and order guy", or in some circles, "fred thompson," is a late-comer, popping up only ONE YEAR before the election! i don't know much about him, but i haven't ruled him out. he was a fair and equitable district attorney on tv, which has nothing to do with being president, but left a pleasant taste in my mouth for the guy. plus, he talks like paula deen, and she's the most adorable cook i've ever seen, and her mac and cheese is divine. i'll have to do more research into his politics.

3. okay. finally... ovenmitt. the thing i can't stand about the ovenmitt-for-president sitch is that me being mormon, i tend to run into a lot of other mormons who think we should all vote for him just because he's mormon too. they don't know a thing about his politics, but are convinced he's privvy to extra revelation, which would make him a good pres. i wouldn't vote for hilary just because she's a woman, or obama just because he's black, or mr. paula deen just because i liked his tv show. so why would i vote for someone just because we go to the same church? back to the original article i referenced at the start of this rambling... the soba guy had to reconcile with himself that he was supporting a mormon. but then he came to the realization that "I am more concerned that a candidate shares my values than he shares my theology." BINGO! mr. soba understands politics!

so. whoever you vote for, make sure you do it for the right reasons. that's the point i'm vaguely getting at here. you have a whole year to observe, study and choose. and make sure when you vote, you don't just impregnate your chad; see it through the whole labor and delivery.

what's the dealie-o?

enlighten me, if you will. i have this nagging question that i can't find an answer to. so i'm reaching out to you, my peeps. tell me, if you can-
what makes someone a sore loser?

i have thought about it for a very long time. i've even googled it, but all i got was a bunch of hits on "new york jets fans".

at the risk of being too personal and exposing my weaknesses to the general public... oh, who are we kidding... if you're reading this and you know me, you know how much i HATE to lose. i have always been like that. ask marji, my friend since age 5. there isn't a game on earth we haven't played that i didn't cheat at. and while i did grow up some, and pretty much quit cheating by the time i reached high school, i still have a really hard time losing.

i think the reason it's on my mind is that i see it becoming a very prevalent trait in my son. i've sort of learned to deal with it myself... although, when i say i "sort of" learned how to deal with it, i am about to confess a very humiliating thing: i cried a few weeks ago when skip spanked me in rummy. yes, i actually quit before we finished because i was losing so severely, i couldn't handle it anymore. and then i exploded into tears! all the while i was thinking, "what the hell is going on here? am i five?" we play a game almost every night, and we're pretty even on the win/lose ratio. and i usually handle my wins and losses with grace. but for some reason, which totally escapes me, that night was a complete fiasco.

so. then there's my son. it's like a mirror image. and i really want to help him deal with that, because unless he finds his own personal marji, every other kid is gonna say "great. game time with whiny boy. WICKED fun." obviously, to get to the root of a problem, you have to find the cause. it has to be some kind of insecurity, right? but honestly, i believe i'm still a decent person in spite of my shellacking in rummy the other night. so why the devastation?

anyway. maybe it's one of those "hello, idiot" things (see above). i dunno. maybe everyone in my circle of trust is keenly aware of something that i myself am blind to. but if you can shed some light on this for me, or have any tips on how to help my son over the hurdle, please comment or email me. if not, then i'll be forced to teach him how to cheat like a pro.

the shagadellic man who stole my mojo

so skip had to travel to ft. lewis for some army stuff. do you see this man? would YOU want to sleep a night without him? possibly yes, but only because you're not married to him. but if you were, i guarantee the answer would be no. he left today, and every mile he drove marked a significant decrease on my mojometer. (pronounce mo-JOM-it-ur)
while i will admit that i love having the whole bed to myself because i can sleep in my preferred "L" position, i really do hate sleeping without him. and is it weird that i can't really think of anything to do other than get on here and blog about missing him? maybe it's because we're still in that first year of marriage. a seasoned wife would probably take advantage of this time to read a good book, or catch up on scrapbooking, or maybe even go out with the girls. but i just returned my book to the library yesterday, i've pretty much quit scrapbooking, and i haven't lived here long enough to have any friends. so there you go... it's me, blogspot, and a bedroom void of shagadellic adventures. COME HOME SOON B!! i love you.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday's Schizophrenics

it's a love-hate relationship with my calendar-

so i have some alter-egos. it's probably no secret, i know i can be a little off at times. but when all is said and done, i blame it on a sybil of disproportions. allow me to introduce you to a few:

1. erasmus b. dragon: busy week? better believe it. tuesdays, wednesdays, and thursdays we have soccer at 5:00, football at 6:00, and scouts somewhere in between. my husband has labs on one of those nights, which leaves one parent, three kids, and way too many places to be. erasmus b. dragon is fighting to break through.

2. yvonne a. peesamy: not my nicest persona. after erasmus checks out, and the fatigue is gone, yvonne has a tendency to rear her ugly head. about 6:15 on a thursday night? bad time for PTA to check on my progress with the bulletin board. even worse time for opposing team's parent to yell out, "hey, your kid just tripped my son!"

3. rick o'shea: when yvonne cools down, there's some kind of adrenaline leftovers hanging around. picture the car ride home: "mom, i'm hungry!" "do i have to take a shower tonight?" "he's looking at me!" "noe's breathing on my side of the car!" "somebody farted! can you put the windows down?" "mom, what's this sticky stuff back here?!" i can tell rick is in charge when my brain cells begin pinging off the interior of the minivan.

4. gladys overwith: gladys is secretly my best friend. when i get home and the kids are finally bathed and in bed, i lay myselves down. skip will usually ask me about our day. sweet little gladys replies, much to his good fortune. i fear what will happen should he ever ask when erasmus, yvonne, or rick are in charge.

p.s. here's my resource insert, not in APA format: i listen to car talk on NPR on saturdays. it's hilarious- 2 brothers from boston giving average joes across the nation advice on their vehicles. they give a list of credits at the end, and use these made-up names. these are some i've heard, so i can't take credit for inventing the name. just applying them to my crazy psyches.

if you give a mom a moment

i LOVE children's books. we have a couple hundred here in the house, and rubbermaids full of hundreds more in the garage for my classroom. one of my all time favorites is the series by laura joffe numeroff. they are illustrated by felicia bond, who many of you moms may recognize from "the big red barn." each book is based on the premise that if the main character asks for something, you will go through a series of events to get it for them, just to end up right back where you started. the illustrations are endearing, and i love the way it teaches sequence and logic. as you can see, that's where i got the idea for the title of my blog. let me run you through the process of if you give a mom a moment...

if you give a mom a moment, she's going to want something to do to fill that time.

so, you offer her an internet connection and a desktop. she'll surf the internet, and decide to check out the webpages for her children's schools.

when she sees the webpages, she'll notice a posting from the PTA looking for volunteers. she'll agree to do the school newsletter, the PTA bulletin board, and lead the efforts to repaint the playground equipment.

you'll take her to the school to examine the playground equipment. seeing the play field will remind her that she signed one son up for football, and the other for soccer. practices start tonight, and she remembers last year's cleats are too small. so you'll drive her to walmart to get some new ones.

as she enters walmart, she spots a display of goldfish crackers for sale. the goldfish crackers remind her that she has not prepared her lesson for church nursery on sunday. she begins to feel guilt, so you offer to buy her chocolate ice cream.

when you get to the ice cream shop, she'll spill a little chocolate ice cream on her shirt. the stain will remind her that she has no less than seven loads of laundry to be done at home. so you take her home to do her laundry.

while she's doing her laundry, she remembers how good the chocolate ice cream was, and wishes she had brought some home for dessert. thinking of dessert will remind her that she still has to think about making supper for everyone.

when she gets up to look in the refrigerator, she remembers the church service lady asked her to make supper for a new mom. you'll suggest spagetti goes a long way, and she'll begin to boil the noodles.

then her children come home from school. seeing the steam from the boiling noodles will remind her son that he has do do a science experiment involving dry ice. you tell her to tell her son to look up some information on the internet.

when she hears the computer kick on, it will remind her of surfing the net earlier. she'll remember all the things she's supposed to do,

and chances are, if she remembers all the things she's supposed to do,

she'll want a moment in which to do them all.

the laundry quandary

this is about a week's worth of laundry. shirts to be hung are draped over the couch. socks are still in a pile, haven't sorted them yet. but this is more or less the end result. isn't it beautiful? in fact, i'm so enamored by it, that i'm considering leaving it there. before you think that's weird, let me explain a few points of order:

1. if you've ever seen a child look for something in their drawer, you will know that inevitably, they go for whatever lies on the bottom of the drawer. to get to it, they rummage through all the nicely folded clothes, thus making them not-so-nicely-folded. this makes me sad.

2. at this moment, the laundry is pretty much done. except that it's not, because my whole family is actually wearing clothes right now. which means in about 2 hours, after baths, there will be more laundry.

3. nothing in this pile smells odd, has a stain, or holds living creatures in its pockets.

4. nothing in this pile is missing.

now. those are simple points. i don't think i'm out of line in presenting them. my original thought, my brainchild of domestic duties, that i leave this laundry right where it is, actually ties in to address all four points of order. if no one moves this laundry, the drawers will never be a mess; the laundry (eventually) will at some point be DONE; it will always stay clean; more grasshoppers will live; and everyone will always know where their clothes are. each week, i'll do a little more, and eventually, it will pile up into a laundry utopia. i realize in order for this to work, however, we will have to move to a nudist colony, which could potentially be embarrassing for my entire family and me. thus spawns my laundry quandry.

i am the girl that says "i told you so"

one day this summer, we were driving and i saw this really weird bird. it seemed HUGE to me, so i pointed out to a carful of 6 others that i had just seen a huge, multi-colored bird. for some reason, this amused the whole carful, none of which actually believed me. i was stunned at the disrespect!

about a month later, i saw a picture of this bird in a waiting room. it was labeled "pheasant." so i came home and told the doubting thomii that the mystery joke bird was a pheasant. again, laughter and mocking from the skeptical six.

well. i nearly gave my life to take these photos. i was driving home today (of course with the youngest of the six, the one with the least ability to communicate and vouch for me) and i almost ran over this bird! i slammed on my brakes, which i discovered were anti-lock, grabbed my camera, which i happened to be carrying, and almost fell out the window taking these shots.

then i stalked the poor pheasant across a parking lot and into the shrubbery, all for the mere satisfaction of saying I TOLD YOU I SAW A HUGE MULTI-COLORED BIRD!! and to you unbelievers... wait until you see what i dress up for this year's thanksgiving dinner. you'll never notice the difference. they say it tastes JUST LIKE turkey.

"mastigophora... comeinandeat!"

skip and i often talk about teachers we've had throughout our lives. we both have a couple of favorites that stand out. (one of his was ms. lopez, because she was hot. i was never so shallow. unless of course, you count mr. aussant, my anatomy teacher in 11th grade, who was hot.)

anyway. the fact that i remember what a mastigophora is, or can readily explain molecular movement of solids, liquids and gasses as related to high schoolers dancing, or that i developed an appreciation for percy sledge, can all be attributed to mr. duluk. biology, 10th grade. the fact that i was more interested in mitochondria than staring at jason mikulis for an hour is big kudos on his part. at the end of the semester, mr. duluk gave out awards to the students in his class. i won the "kicked out of class" award. every time he had a sub, i got kicked out of class. honestly, why would i want to sit through biology with anyone other than mr. duluk?

he had some sort of crazy camaraderie with the other science teachers. they would randomly break into song and dance, interrupt each others' classes, all the while making golgi apparatus and endoplasmic reticulum seem like a normal part of a teenager's vocabulary. i have actually answered questions correctly on jeopardy with facts i learned in mr. duluk's class. unfortunately, that's the extent of practical application of my biology knowledge, but nonetheless...

i take that back. in teaching 2nd grade, we cover a few of the basics, and i find myself getting excited when the topic comes up. i can also help mika with some homework. and as most of you know, i like to act like i know it all, so the ability to quickly throw out biological terms and their meanings bodes well with me. and who knows, maybe one day i'll make it onto jeopardy, and my video daily double will be a clip of cells dividing, which i will correctly identify as "mitosis", using words like "cytoplasm" and "metaphase". i'll be sure to cut mr. duluk in on a chunk of my winnings, so he can buy himself a new pair of blues brothers sunglasses.

ps some of you have asked for some clarification on the title. to help us remember the term "mastigophora", he would yell the word towards the window, like he was calling his kid, and tell him it was time to come home, or time for supper. his famous line was come in and eat. it was hilarious, but probably only if you were there to witness it.

Wookin' Pa Nub...

eddie murphy does this great buckwheat (little rascals) sketch. in one, he produces "buckwheat's greatest hits", where he sings some of americas's best-loved songs. the classic is "wookin' pa nub in all da wong pwaces..." (for those slower to catch on, 'lookin for love in all the wrong places').

anyway. at times i fear my children are wookin pa nub in all da wong pwaces. as any mother can relate, the concept of "me" time is void. UNLESS... of course, you have a lock on your bathroom door. it is there, the one true place, that a mother should find peace and tranquility. i say "should" because theoretically, it's true. realistically, however, it is not. i don't even think i made it to page 6 of my people magazine before the first knock came. i dismissed the child with mock kindness and read on about the jailed starlet of the week. moments later, a small voice: "mom? can i have a snack?" again, i politely encouraged the child to leave. silence followed, turns out lindsay lohan is back in rehab. "mom? can i have a hug?" the child was invited to wook pa nub elsewhere. i made it to page 13, when a slip of paper came sliding under the door. it read, "mom. hi." thus ended my solitude in the bathroom.

this story is true. it took place in a home where i had a lock on my bathroom door. now, i have one of those doors that slides into the wall, and has no lock. i have had to narrow my sanctuary to the actual shower stall. before i started teaching (and on the weekends after i taught) i worked at bath and body works. my bathroom shelving unit resembles an actual corner of the bath and body works store. it's my one luxury that remains untouched by the rest of the family. no one wants to smell like a girl. we have dual heads in our shower, and i will spoil myself by turning both of them on and using a minimum of four bath and body works products on my hair, body, feet and face. it's divine. but there are still children who are wookin pa nub. i was JUST about to step into my dual stream shower, with some shea butter bead foot scrub in tow, when the door was slid open with gusto and a small child proclaimed "WE MADE OUR BEDS!" this was followed by a banshee shriek on my part, and stunned silence from the child.

i think it's safe to say next time there will be a knock, perhaps even just a note slid under the door. and i can now consider that move an acceptable intrusion into my sanctuary.

me & ann at BBW...

or is that in front of my bathroom shelf?

Don Brinkleone on Mobsters and Mommies

don't be fooled... they are criminal masterminds!

last night, laying in bed, skip asked me "what are you thinking about?" i answered him, "well, i'm mostly thinking about how being a mom is like being the boss of an organized crime family." i was met with momentary silence, and then "really? how so?" so here are my thoughts.

1. EXTORTION: according to webster, it's to "elicit by cunning or persuasiveness." i submit the following: i, the cunning and persuasive mother, recognise that my 6 year old is profoundly attached to his blankie. we're going to meet the principal at the new school. his behavior is not leading us toward "making a good impression." i whisper in his ear, "best behavior please, or when we get home, i will cut your blankie up and light the pieces on fire."

2. BRIBERY: "anything given to persuade or induce." this can be summed up in one word: candy

3. GAMBLING: the kids are tired and cranky. it's 5:pm. i really need a gallon of milk for tomorrow's breakfast. this would involve a trip into the store, kids in tow. it's a gamble: if i leave them in the car, they could be kidnapped. if i take them in the store, they could be publicly beaten. toss the dice!

4. INSIDER TRADING: i often ask my friends, "what's your best parenting move?" responses can't be posted, as today's computer savvy children might crack into our best-kept secrets. but get with me, we'll talk. behind satriale's meat market. no wires.

5. ITALIAN TIES: we really eat a lot of pizza

6. LA COSA NOSTRA: it's our thing, right? we each do the best we can with the skills we have. being a mom is a thrill... it's up and down and it stretches your emotions like you never dreamed. but it's our thing, and we wouldn't trade it for the world.