Sharing is Caring

I had a birthday last week. It was a fun day filled with presents and time spent with family. My hubby and I went to go see Mockinjay Part 2, so I wasn’t at home when my wonderful neighbor and her daughter came over and brought me cupcakes and a sweet card.
The cupcakes came in a fun container of six. I was surprised and delighted with the meaningful gesture, just perfect for my family of six. I looked at those cupcakes and smiled, amazed that my kids had managed not to eat them while I was away.
The first words out of four-year-old’s mouth when I got home weren’t happy birthday. They were, “Mommy! Someone brought you cupcakes, and you can share them if you want to!”
I laughed and didn’t give more of a response. Four-year-old persisted, “Do you want to share them, Mommy, or are you going to eat them all by yourself?”
I looked into those sweet eyes and said, “What do you think I should do?”
She turned back, looked at the ground and said, “Well, I guess whatever you want to do.”
Then, I asked, “What do you want me to do?”
Beaming up at me, she jumped in the air and yelled, “Share!”
“Don’t worry, I’m going to share them,” I assured her. Even though they looked delicious, I wasn’t going to eat all of them myself. How could I when four-year-old was so excited, so happy to have me share a cupcake. And really, birthdays are all about sharing joy with those you love. Happy Birthday to me.
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Gas Pump Boogie

I am guilty of doing some strange things while I pump gas. No, I haven’t tried to see if I can actually use static electricity to start a fire though I’ve been mildly tempted. But, I guess I get bored when I’m pumping gas.

My obsession with being a little off normal at the pump started when my kids were little. I would put in the pump, stare off into the distance, then randomly make faces at them through the window. Turn away again, turn back and have a different funny face at the ready. Lots of giggles and smiles came my way, so I still keep it up. My seven-year-old and four-year-old still laugh. My older two either roll their eyes or try to come up with a face that will outdo mine. Pumping gas is entertaining.

But, the other day, I found myself with no one in the back seat to make faces at. I only had my oldest in the front seat, and he couldn’t see my face, so my usual form of entertainment was not an option. Apparently, I can’t just hold a gas pump and just stand there. So, I found myself listening to the the gurgling sound as the gas whooshed into my tank.

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The next time you pump gas, listen to it come out. It actually has a nice rhythm. One I couldn’t help but dance to. I found myself swaying my hips back and forth, and nodding my head up and down to the sic beat of the gas pump. My unoccupied hand might have even gotten in on the action, though I won’t confirm or deny that.

I guess I forget when I’m in public everyone can see me. Three men in a pick-up truck pulled up behind me and doubled over laughing when they saw my sashaying behind. Luckily my tank was filled before any of them could get their phones out or I might have been the next youtube sensation.

I only hope you can also appreciate the subtle rhythm of the gas pump; it will amuse you, and those around you, if you can.

Too Much Studio C?

My hubby and I took our girls to a great musical, White Christmas, at the local high school. My niece is in it, as is one of the neighbor girls whom I have the privilege of working with in my church. It was a visually dazzling production, with great sets and costumes, along with a talented, hard-working cast.
Four-year-old was having a hard time sitting still and paying attention. She did pretty well. She only got her shoe/foot stuck in the folding auditorium seat once (though she loudly proclaimed that fact), and she only asked me when it was going to be finished three times. For a two and a half hour show, that’s pretty great. She really only got bored during the dialogue. When all the songs were going on, she sat up, swayed to the rhythm and even tried her best to sing along. My apologies to the people directly in front and behind us. I did my best to quiet her, but sometimes, I guess, you’ve just got to sing! Even when you don’t know the words. Or the tune. Or the rhythm. Yeah. Sorry.
So, I was rather surprised that she was paying enough attention to know when adorable neighbor girl got stage kissed by her leading man. I was equally surprised that she had a certain Studio C skit memorized. She stood on her seat and yelled out in a perfect Mallory imitation, “Aww Yeah!” The people around us cracked up, at least the Studio C fans did. Luckily, enough other people were whistling and cat calling in the auditorium that her comment wasn’t heard by all.
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Still, maybe it’s time to limit the amount of Studio C watched in our house. Ah, who am I kidding? I love that four-year-old yelled it out. I would have done it myself if adults weren’t expected to have a filter. Check out the hilarious sketch that inspired my four-year-old’s outburst here. And go see White Christmas at local high school. And yell out “Aww Yeah” for me.

Saved by Studio C

My thirteen-year-old had a band concert last night. Last year, all the students were encouraged to wear Halloween costumes since it was a Halloween concert.

Before thirteen-year-old’s concert, I asked him if he was allowed to wear a costume again this year or if he needed concert dress. He assured me that costumes were fine.

Rewind a few weeks ago to the discussion of what thirteen-year-old wanted to be for Halloween this year. He had all sorts of ideas, all related to his favorite sketch comedy show, Studio C. (Check them out on YouTube. You won’t regret it.) We ordered the pieces necessary for his costume from amazon and got excited for Halloween.

Last night, as we pulled into the junior high parking lot, my husband and I immediately noticed something. All the other kids were dressed in concert dress– meaning a white shirt, a tie, and slacks or a nice dress. Somehow, my kiddo had missed the memo, the only kid who had. No costumes this year, concert dress only.

Thankfully, my son decided to be James dressed as the Lobster Bisque character, seen here:

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“Quick!” I told thirteen-year-old, give me the gloves, the glasses and the suit coat!” He handed over all the requested items, and voila, he was ready to go, concert dress:

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I can only be thankful that he decided on Lobster Bisque instead of Awkward Avoidance Viking, Captain Literally, or Ann the Librarian. (All choices that he was considering.) So thank you Studio C for having the Lobster Bisque character. Lobster Bisque saved his attire grade, and quite possibly saved my hubby and I from a concert spent hiding under the folding chairs trying to pretend that our son was not the sole kid who missed the no costume message. But what a photo op it would have been.

Insane Side Effect of Crazy Hair Day  

Four-year-old wanted some, too!

Four-year-old wanted some, too!

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My Little Pony has nothing on her!

My Little Pony has nothing on her!

Unicorns unite!

Unicorns unite!

Ahh, Crazy Hair Day!  The culmination of Red Ribbon Week, a week dedicated to having fun and learning about not using drugs.  The slogan for the day was “Use Your Head and Don’t Do Drugs.”

I’m not entirely certain how crazy hair and avoiding drugs are connected.  In the ‘80’s the Big Hair bands also seemed to be the drug bands.  In the ‘60’s, counterculture hair seemed to coincide with experimentation with more than just their lovely locks.

That being said, I wanted to be the fun mom and participate.  I even said–as I was ratting, and putting in elastics, and shoving bobby pins where they were never meant to go—“Remember, this is supposed to help you not to do drugs.”  Seven-year-old just gave me a confused look.  Eleven-year-old rolled her eyes at me, an action she has so perfected her eyes may be in permanent amusement park ride mode.

I’m not a hair mom.  Half the time, my youngest doesn’t even get her locks combed.  She has curls and they look mostly good when she gets up.  And if they don’t, I just insist she puts on her helmet as she rides her bike to preschool so I can then claim “helmet hair” is the culprit for her non-do instead of lazy parenting.  But I do occasionally like to flex my hair-do muscles.  Crazy hair day is the perfect time to do that.  If you can’t really get the hair to look the way you want you just claim, “I meant to do that!  It’s that much more crazy!”

So, after the hair was done, I took the girls out on the porch to spray their hair with colors.  Seven-year-old’s wasn’t so bad.  She only needed a little spritz.  But eleven-year-old’s was, well, crazy.  She wanted her hair plastered with color.  And elastics began to break after being coated with hair spray.  So I had to run in to the house, grab more, re-do the pony tail and then spray again since the color had come off on my hands.

All that spraying left me feeling a little, um, lightheaded.   Maybe even–shall we say– high?  Yes, that’s right.  I had just unintentionally huffed spray aerosol as a result of participating in week dedicated to keeping kids off drugs.  They didn’t say anything about the parents, though, right?

What’s in Your Animal Crackers?

Three-year-old was eating some animal crackers the other day. She was, as any good preschooler would be, not content to just eat the crackers. She had to inspect them and make certain that she knew what each and every animal was before she bit its head off and sent it to its doom.
Of course, in order to be completely certain, she had to ask me and get my approval before devouring the cracker.
“Mommy, what’s this?” she asked.
“A bear,” I responded.
“Why does it have three eyes?” she wanted to know. Hmm, I didn’t have a good answer for that one.
“Well, the machine who made them must have made an extra hole somehow, I guess.”
She happily munched on for a while then came to a cracker she hadn’t identified yet.
“Mommy, what animal is this sitting on a toilet?” she wondered.
What? I couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. “An animal on a toilet?”
“Yeah, look!” she said as she handed the cracker to me.
“Um, it’s a monkey and it’s not actually sitting on a toilet, it’s just squatting down on its hind legs, I guess,” I replied after my giggles subsided enough to talk.
Take a look for yourself, it does look like it’s on a toilet, especially to a little girl who is still sort of fascinated with the whole potty thing:

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Suddenly, animal crackers aren’t so appetizing anymore.