my kids are too cool for school

Yesterday afternoon, Charlotte and I had to walk in the street for a short stretch to avoid some sprinklers while we went to the twins' school. As we stepped back onto the sidewalk, Cha turned around, pointed at the yard with the sprinklers and shouted, "In your face, sprinklers!"

This morning, Bebe and I were rehashing the Halloween festivites and I told her about the teens who sang Christmas carols. She asked me why they did that and I said I didn't know why -- it was probably because it was silly and fun. Elizabee replied, "Yeah, Mama, I guess that's just how they roll."

halloween is over

Thank God, because I was really tired of all the costume changing. But the girlies had a blast. We went to Archie's work for a parade and party and it was fine until their friend (the daughter of one of Archie's coworkers) showed up when it turned into the best party ever ever ever. They played and squealed and Archie and I invited the other family over for Thanksgiving and then it was even better. Seriously, my girls are so easy to please and take such joy in simple things like a friend coming for a party or Thanksgiving.

Tonight was fun. Archie got stuck in traffic, so the girls helped pass out candy. (The eyeballs were a smashing success.) I can't believe we had over 50 trick-or-treaters! (I know how many we had because we had a bag of the eyeballs and there were over 60 eyeballs in that bag and we were less several because the girls had to taste them. Heh.) We had all the cute kids and the lame-o teenagers who don't dress up but still want candy. Jeez, at least wear a mask or something. Archie finally got home and took the kinder out to collect some candy. People give out great stuff these days. The big hit was whoever gave out containers of Playdough. After the girls were in bed, the doorbell rang and Archie answered it. On our porch were about 4 teens, all in costume, who began singing Christmas carols. That was fantastic! We gave them all the rest of the chocolate candy and made them promise to come by at Christmas and sing Halloween songs. Then we blew out the candles in the jack-o-lanterns, turned out the porch light, and relaxed.

Bring on Thanksgiving!

a few notes for the googling public

1. I do not hate my husband. Seriously, I don't know how anyone reads far enough into the searches to find my little site, but, for the record, I love my husband!

2. You will not find tips about actual slugs here. Sorry. And, wow -- you have them in your dishwasher? Gross.

3. An awful lot of people seem to be worried about wobbly teeth. I hope this is because they have children who are losing baby teeth and not because they are adults who have adult teeth falling out of their heads.

4. I know nothing about rodeo princess costumes. Although being a rodeo princess sounds awesome. I'd suggest a hat and boots and maybe a skirt with fringe. And a big-ass belt buckle. A horse would make it perfect. I think I'd like to be a rodeo princess in real life.

rumble at the costco

Like everyone else in the universe on Saturday, we went to Costco, which is a big warehouse place. When you go on a weekend, you will circle the parking lot 700 times, following a person with a cart full of stuff and then someone will sneak into the space you waited 15 minutes for and then you start the circling again and, if you are Archie and me, you will sing the "Jaws" theme over an over and over. And it never gets old. OK, the circling gets old, but singing the "Jaws" theme? That's always funny. And, when someone has stolen your spot yet again, you will sigh and then have a little mini-party when you score a fantastic spot right up front. And it only took what felt like an hour!

We finally entered and began our slow and meandering quest to acquire large quantities of stuff. A jumbo pack of Capri Sun. Huge bags of Halloween candy (and candy eyeballs -- we're gonna be the coolest house on the block!). Some other stuff I've forgotten already. We are prepared for the slow going with comedy that never gets old. "Hey -- do we need a quart of capers? What about an industrial size bucket of mayo?" And then we had a fight with the rudest people in the entire place.

There are always employees at the end of aisles with free food samples. We don't personally partake of the free samples, but apparently this is a favored practice. To my mind, if you are going to crowd the end of the aisle to wait and sample cookies or cheese or whatever else Costco has purchased a metric ton of and would like you to buy, you should stash your cart away from the aisle so the people who would like to buy something in that aisle can get by. But I am obviously out of my gourd and old people think that's a move for sissies.

Archie said, "Excuse me," to an elderly woman who was blocking the aisle with her cart. She didn't respond, so he hit her with our cart, called her a bitch, and then stole her purse. Ha! No, he didn't, but you would have thought he did by her response. I'm guessing that even though she was 700 years old and he called her ma'am and was polite, she mistook this as him being the rudest human on the planet and felt the need to tell him to shut up. We moved past her and Archie said, "Fuck you, you skanky old bitch!" Oh, wait, no he didn't. He said, "Ma'am, your cart is blocking the aisle. I just want to get past you." This set off another woman who was living in the same imaginary world as the elderly woman and started screaming at us. Archie went up to her and hissed, "Outside right now so I can kick your ass!" Wait, no he didn't. He said, "That's very nice to jump in when it's not really any of your business." Which ticked off the second woman who turned out to be the daughter of the first woman and I guess she thought it was beyond the pale that my husband actually spoke to her mother with a respectful tone and used the term ma'am and was polite and calm in the face of yelling and rudeness. Because the daughter proceeded to swear loudly. Which was when I called over my shoulder (with no attempt to be polite because those women were craaaazy), "That's really nice language to use in public around children!"

When we were done shopping and in the car driving home, Archie said it was like being in an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm". Except without the jaunty and annoying tuba music. He also said those women were probably in their car talking about how rude and awful we were.

"Yeah, but I'm betting the old biddies don't have a blog to bitch about us! Ha! Because I'm going to make fun of them. I'm so adult and mature like that!"

halloween overload

So, eveyone's dressed and fed and the girls are watching "Arthur" before we get the big ones to school. And I'm stressing mildly over the fact that Halloween has suddenly become a major holiday.

When I was a kid (and had a pet triceratops, heh), there was a parade at school, a classroom party at the end of the day, and trick-or-treating. The end, enjoy your candy.

This year, we have a party at the kajukenbo dojo on Friday, the family parade and party at Archie's work on Monday (which is a lot of fun and the girls love it), the after-school parade on Tuesday, and then trick-or-treating. Dear Lord, that's a lot of dressing up and candy and excitement. We've also found out that the amusement park that time forgot has a weekend sleepover, which I know the kids would have fits of joy over. But -- you have to be at least 5 and there's no way we could hide atttendance from Cha, so we're planning on everyone going next year.

You know how ridiculous I sound, right? "Man, Halloween has turned into a scheduling nightmare! But I think there's one more thing the kids would really like to do, so we'll add it on next year."

I obviously hit my head very hard and now I'm certifiably insane!

dinosaur, dedication, and divorce

So, this weekend, Archie and I were out on the deck and he got this semi-pained look on his face. "God, I can't believe it." All I could think was that he saw another mouse or some other rodent near the fence. "What is it now?" I asked. "I can't believe we have...dinousaurs!" And he kicked a plastic dino sitting in the driveway that one of the girls had left there.

Tonight, while we were watching "Jeopardy!" an answer got the girls and I talking about pseudonyms. Elizabee said she was going to write a book and she would write it under her own name. "And I will dedicate it to you, Mama." "That's really sweet, Bebe." "It will say, 'To my mother who gave me almost everything I wanted!'" I would like the award for best mother ever right now.

Archie lost his wedding ring on Saturday. He'd gone to kajukenbo (where he takes it off) and then he realized it wasn't in his bag and it wasn't just lying around. Tonight when he came home from work, he was still upset. I told him it was OK; it's just a ring. He replied, "Yeah, I know, but if I don't find it we'll have to get divorced!" I started to laugh, but the girls were very concerned and I had to reassure them that he was just kidding. He came home from the dojo later and he'd found it -- in the trunk of the car. I told him I was very happy we could stay married.

This post has been brought to you by the letter D.

whore-free

Some people who read here know this story, because I've told it elsewhere. Too bad this is a repeat -- it's a really funny story!

When I was about 5 or 6, my aunt, who was an English teacher, was visiting. I was reading a book and I asked my aunt what W-H-O-R-E spelled. She replied, without any thought, "Whore." I said thanks and carried on.

Now, my aunt thought for a moment and wondered why her little niece was reading a book with the word whore in it. So she asked me to show her the word in the book. I dutifully pointed it out. The word wasn't "whore", it was "who're". I apparently wasn't big on apostrophes at that point.

What was the book, you ask? Why, "Danny and the Dinosaur". Totally whore-free!

for isa

This is for your amusement, Isabelle, in celebration of your new store! Another funny Lulu moment.

We were talking about options for Halloween costumes. We have this fantastic Sully monster costume that Bebe wore a long time ago. I told Louisa maybe I could talk ChaCha into wearing. "Why, Mama?" "Well, Cha would make an adorable monster."

"Yeah," she answered, "and because you're cheap!"

She was absolutely correct. Sadly, Charlotte did not want to be Sully, she is going to be Cinderella. And Bebe is Sleeping Beauty. Our Lou is Pocahontas (and I'm giggling because I remember when they used to pronounce that as Mochahontas -- like a Disney/Starbucks children's drink).

I'm hoping against hope that the princess thing is soon to be over. Although a Native American princess is a step in the right direction.

we watch too many tlc programs

Last night, Louisa was goofing around with this pencil. It had broken in two and she took the piece with no eraser on it and sharpened both ends. Then she held it up and said, in a very movie trailer-voiceover way, "One Was Two: The Autobiography of a Conjoined Pencil!"

Then we both laughed hysterically. God, that was funny.

What was even funnier was that I told her to go and tell Archie because I knew he would think it was amazingly funny, too. Lou got all shy and told me no and that I couldn't tell him, either. So I asked if I could write about it here, at slug rodeo.

She thought for a moment and asked, "You really want anyone in the entire world to read about this?"

"Sure! It's funny!"

"OK. But you can't tell Daddy!"

So I'm not telling. But I also neglected to tell her that Archie might possibly read this and then I've foiled her. Ha!

why garry marshall is a genius

So, we watched "The Princess Diaries" this morning. Garry Marshall (the director) is simply brilliant. Think about it. He made a little movie about a hooker who gets schooled in manners and deportment by Hector Elizondo and then she wins her john and gets a happily ever after, just like a princess. You might have heard about it -- the word was it did a little business. Then, Marshall makes another movie where a girl IS a princess and Hector Elizondo (with a little help from Julie Andrews) teaches her how to behave as one and she gets her happily ever after without being a prostitute. I wish I had thought of it.

And reason 599 that I love my husband? He sat and watched the entire thing with us -- even though I told him he could switch to the football. Reason 600 is that I think he enjoyed it -- which makes he and I both 14 year old girls. Heh.

best friends

You know what the best thing about the first day of school is? When Bebe sees her friend and goes barreling toward her squealing, "Larisha!" And Larisha yells, "Elizabeth!" as she runs and they look like a 7 year old, all-girl version of Cathy and Heathcliff running across the moors and then they fling themselves into a full-contact hug. And at the same time, Lulu is propelling herself at several of her friends and then they all skip to the playground, holding hands and chattering away.

That's the best.

And tomorrow, Cha goes back to preschool and there has been a lot talk about how she can't wait to see her friend, Suliman. I predict much sweet cuteness will abound. And then I'll have to come home and take a nap, just to recover from all the best friend love.

i love baseball

Since my Cubs are having a typical year (read: languishing in the basement), I look to other sources for my sheer love of the game. Monday was the championship game in the Little League World Series. There was a stunning amount of cuteness and joy and heartbreak (I'm not ashamed to say I smiled and cheered for the American team who won and in the same moment shed a tear for the Japanese team who lost).

My favorite moment was a shot of the diamond after the game had ended. Green grass littered with the dropped gloves of the winning team. That was perfection.

I hope all those kids had some ice cream afterwards.

the dumbest joke ever

Seriously. And it is made even dumber by the fact that I cracked myself up so badly that I snorted and actually fell out of bed.

So, Archie and I were in bed, reading. I was reading a book about Herman Melville. And I started to read a passage out of it to Archie. He asked, "So, Melville wrote 'Moby Dick', right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I've never read it."

"Really? It's a whale of a book." And that's when I fell out of bed, snorting at my own completely stupid pun.

It's a wonder I'm still married and that my children have not been taken away from me.

why my day was much better than your day

OK -- it didn't seem, at first blush, like it was going to be a fantastic day. The twins were having their molars sealed which meant driving over to the Peninsula and dealing with Cha and her boundless energy and LOUD voice in the small waiting room. (I now know why all parents have some version of the phrase, "I'm right next to you -- lower your voice.") Sure, we were going to the library after, but even that wasn't enough to make it seem like any more than a pain in the ass day.

It seemed that it might be an even worse than a pain in the ass day when we arrived at the dentist's office and the fish tank was gone. That meant 10 minutes of Charlotte moaning about the gone-ness of the fish -- 15 minutes when she normally would have been engrossed in looking at the fish. Oh, this was not good.

Then, the receptionist took us across the parking lot when Lulu went back to an exam room and turned everything into gold. Guess. Go on -- guess what we were shown.

Puppies! 5 adorable, yippy, wiggly puppies! So, Cha and Bebe and I played with the puppies and held the puppies and cooed at the puppies. Then, after about 20 minutes, we went back to the office and switched Bebe out for Lulu and our new configuaration went back to play with the puppies. Puppies and kids are magic. It was too much fun.

(The twins were also excited that they got to watch a movie during their procedures on the headset goggles. Not an entire movie, but Lou said she watched the beginning of "Cheaper by the Dozen" and Elizabee was excited that she saw the beginning of "Madagascar".)

Puppies. Seriously, top going to the dentist and then playing with puppies. Yeah, I didn't think you could.

fight science

The National Geographic network is running this show called "Fight Science" which is very cool and science-y and martial art-y. In one part of the show they measure the amount of force a punch or kick can deliver and it's amazing. One of the guys says, "I feel like Superman. In a very humble way." That cracked me up.

i didn't even get an invitation

This morning, Charlotte was skipping around outside, swinging her arms and singing.

"Walking in the park with Dennis. With Dennis. Walking and singing in the park with Dennis..."
"Hey! Who is Dennis, Cha?"
"My husband. Walking in the park with Dennis..."

They grow up so fast. Heh.

waking up

Lou came into my bedroom and whispered, "Mama, wake up! I am so mad!" Really, that's not something you want to hear upon waking. As we went into the kitchen she explained what was upsetting her. "These books from the library? The diaries? They're not real! They're fiction, Mama! I'm so mad!" Heh. Considering that she knows what fiction is and that there was an author's name on the cover of the books, I, stupidly, figured she'd realize these were fictionalized accounts. I figured wrong. Oops.

Bebe was very Bebe. "I'm hungry. What can I have for breakfast?"

Charlotte bounced out and climbed up on my lap, with a huge smile. "I had the best dream!" I waited a few moments and then asked, "Well? What was your dream about?" "Mama, I'm too happy to say." A minute later she said, grinning, "I had a guitar -- and a little sister!"

When she was telling Archie about her fantastic dream, Archie asked, "Did you play your dream little sister like a guitar?"

"Daddy! No! That would be rude."

the kara-tay picnic

For the last several months, Archie has been taking classes in Kajukenbo. It's a combination martial art (karate/judo/ken for something I don't remember/boxing). It was developed in Hawaii and is considered the first real American martial art. (Also, I call it the Esperanto of martial arts because I'm goofy.) Yesterday, we went to the picnic at a local park and it was lots of fun. Most of the students are kids (and the twins are going to be starting after school starts again) and so there were lots of young people and the girls had a great time. They had a raffle and Archie won a free hour of groundwork with the second in command, which he's very excited about. And it was the Sifu's birthday and all the kids gave him a punch in the stomach, instead of spanks, which was kind of funny.

I was kind of "eh" about the girls doing this as a sport. But I've come around to thinking it's a really good thing. Archie says the kids at the dojo are all really focussed and respectful and have a lot of fun. He said Sifu is really great with kids -- he routinely plans stuff for just the kids (movies and stuff) that give it more of a community feel rather than just a sport or activity. And Archie says the girls at the dojo are amazing and strong and love to fight and he wants that for our girls, which I've decided is a great thing.

Also, Archie found this show on MTV2 called "Final Fu" which is a reality/competition show about martial arts. The contestants are all young adults. I have no idea how good they are, but it's fun to watch all the different disciplines. And, it's really amazing to watch the attitudes of these kids. On most reality shows, there's a lot of bluster and blaming other people and it gets really tiring after a while. These contestants all admit to their own failings and strengths. It's quite refreshing to see a young guy say the only person to blame for his elimination is himself -- and that now he's going to go and work even harder. I just have come around to what a great way of looking at things in this way is -- and martial arts seem to foster this. So, I guess I'm going to be the kara-TAY! mom.

Archie says Sifu says about one of the teenage girls, "That girl loves to bang!" Meaning that she loves to fight. Apparently, even the boys don't want to mess with her because she brings it. And I met her at the picnic and she's adorable and polite and man, I would be completely happy if my girls loved to bang, too.

the talk

You know, The Talk. The birds and the bees. How babies are made -- at least the old-fashioned way. S-E-X.

The other night, Bebe and Lulu were asking me all kinds of questions about how babies are made. The info they had up to that point: girls have a uterus, a vagina, and eggs, boys have a penis and sperm, the sperm and egg combine to make a baby which grows in the uterus and then is either pushed out or the mother is cut open and the baby is pulled out. Oh, and Bebe got a crucial bit of info about sperm coming out of the penis which she thought was a joke.

Anyway, the discussion was at bedtime and the gist was that they wanted to know how the egg and sperm got together. Mostly, I thought this was a ploy to not go to sleep, so I said we'd talk about it the next day, fairly certain it would be forgotten because they had a field trip for camp the next day. Beebs woke up and the first thing she said was, "So, how do the egg and sperm get together?" I said it was a little involved and we'd discuss when they came home from camp. As we got in the car to drive home, Elizabeth was all, "So? How? You promised!"

So we came home and I explained the basics. There were 2 very funny moments. The first was when Elizabee asked if maybe, since the sperm comes out of the penis, the guy puts the sperm in a cup? Oh, my, I had to force myself to not laugh and then go on a whole tangent about that really happening. No need to confuse the poor kids too much at the start. The second very amusing thing was after I'd finished, I asked if they had any questions. Beebs said, "The man puts his penis in the woman's vagina? I think I'll just adopt."

I had to excuse myself to go stifle my laughter in my bathroom into a pillow.

the day i probably made 2 mormon missionaries very happy

Flashback time! Flashback time!

The twins were a few weeks old. I was incredibly sleep deprived. I was nursing them, so all I wore in the first month or so after they were born was a pair of underwear and my Cat in the Hat chenille bathrobe. This was because I never went anywhere, so there was no point in getting dressed. (If someone I wasn't related to came to visit I'd put on my nursing PJs, which were more presentable, but still, not really clothing.) Also, easy, quick access to the breastaurant. Open 24 hours, table for 2. God, I crack myself up.

Anyway, so one afternoon I was alone in the apartment with the girls. I had just completed a feeding and was holding the last diner. There was a knock on the door. I (stupidly) went to answer it. Before me were 2 Mormons in their white shirts and ties and all clean-cut and scrubbed. One started to ask if I'd like to talk about Jesus. (I am not making fun of Mormons. While I don't generally want to talk about Jesus with strangers, I am always polite and courteous and send them on their way to find someone who does want to discuss Our Lord and Savior.) Anyway, I told these boys that I was sorry, but I had just given birth to twins, I was by myself, and I was too exhausted to have a conversation about anything, least of all religion. I kind of registered that their eyes had gotten as big as dinner plates, but they politely said goodbye and I shut the door.

It was only when I went to put the baby I was holding down that I noticed that my bathrobe was completely open. I flashed a pair of Mormon missionaries! I sometimes wonder if that made their day or frightened them.

oh. my. god.

The girls and I went to the library on Tuesday. As we were leaving, loaded down with books, Elizabee was being silly and teased me, "I'm going to be a teenager in a year, Mommy!" "Nuh-uh. You'll be a teenager in 6 years. 7 plus 6 is 13."

Then I literally stopped walking and said, "Oh, dear. You're more than halfway to being a teenager!" We both kind of stared at each other. "Nuh-uh!" said Bebe. "Uh, uh-huh!" I replied. Then I looked at Louisa and said, "And Lou, too!"

Dear Lord, somebody hold me.

why i love my husband

He brought me cold water to soak my feet in to try and feel a little cooler. Several times. That's sweet and I think I might spare his life.

I stopped looking at weather.com and making myself feel even hotter when the current temperature read 101. When I then checked the thermostat to see how hot it was in the house, that read "OL". Which I think means, "Oh, Lordy, it's hot!" Or maybe, "Over limit". Because it will apparently only go up to 95 and then it figures any living think in the house has died of heat stroke. It's almost 1am and over 80 in the house and not much cooler outside. We're going to the mall and praying there won't be rolling blackouts. Once they kick us out of the mall we'll go over to the Borders and hang in the children's section since the library is closed on Sunday. Maybe we'll go see a movie -- the kids haven't seen "Cars" yet.

The heat is supposed to break a little by Monday. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.

why i hate my husband

We're watching the final time trial for the Tour de France and I am, of course, bitching about the heat. And then Archie starts to pick on me.

"So I've scheduled a person to come over later for you to try on fur coats. And then I thought we'd buy a kiln and fire some pots. The furnace guy is getting here later and we'll have to close up the house and run the heater for a few hours. And to finish off the day, sex, me on top, under all the covers. How does that sound?"

I don't think a jury would convict me if I killed him.

did you know about the hot?

Jesus God it's fucking hot. Like, right now, at this very moment, 8pm, it is 90 degrees in my house. Not outside, but in the freaking house. I am cranky and crabby and pissed and hot. Very, very hot. As in temperature, not sexiness. Because saying, "It is too hot for you to even think about touching me!" is not sexy. Did I mention the hot?

I am having flashbacks to living in Phoenix. The hot there (My husband: But it's a dry heat! Me: So is an oven, and I wouldn't want to live in an oven!) was the primary reason I gladly accepted a move to California. But at least we had air conditioning in Phoenix.

I hate weather.

i may be raising a monster

When I was overseeing ChaCha's bath this evening, she was doing some weird game thing. She had a blue plastic goblet, which she had sitting in the corner of the tub. She'd taken an empty bubble bath bottle (because we're all about recycling and I AM CHEAP) which she was filling with water. While doing this, she was talking, talking, talking. "I am very, very thirsty. I would like some wine, I think. Yes, some wine." She picked up the goblet, slammed it back, then violently spit out the water. "That's not wine! It tastes like bathwater!"

I swear this is not anything she's ever seen me do. OK, OK, maybe she's seen me enjoy some wine -- because I am not made of stone. But I really don't slam a glass back, spit it out, or drink bathwater.

sabermetrics is not for young children

This evening, I was watching a program about sabermetrics. In case you are not a baseball fanatic, this is the study of statistics in baseball. I know you are all extremely excited and want to be my best friend because I am sooo cool.

Bebe came in the family room and asked what I was watching. I told her it was a show about baseball statistics. She sat down next to me and we listened to the expert guy talk about total player ratings and how to assess whether players from different eras are similiar. The guy talked for about 5 minutes and used various formulas and Bebe turned to me and said, "I didn't understand one thing that man said."

Then we watched "Pee-wee's Playhouse" and screamed each time they said "door" and all was right with the world.

fireworks

And on the Fourth of July they signed it
And 56 names underlined it,
And now to honor those first 13 states,
We turn the sky into a birthday cake.
They got it done (Oh yes they did!)
The Declaration, uh-huh-huh,
The Declaration of Independence (Oh yeah!)
In seventeen hundred seventy six (Right on!)
The Continental Congress said that we were free (We're free!)
Said we had the right of life and liberty,
...And the pursuit of happiness!

We hold these truths to be self-evident,
That all men are created equal
And that they are endowed by their creator
With certain inalienable rights.
That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

And if there's one thing that makes me happy,
Then you know that it's (ooh)
There's gonna be fireworks!

*****

Happy Independence Day! We're going to have some grilled meat product (ribs) and listen to the America Rocks songs on "Schoolhouse Rocks" (because Archie and I are kids of the 70s) and then go see some fireworks. May your day be as relaxed and enjoyable.

criminal mastermind

Bebe had misplaced some little things she was hoarding -- erasers, marbles, stickers. She decided that Cha had stolen them. I knew Charlotte was innocent of this particular accusation, but Beebs was adamant. "You took them! You're a criminal mastermind!"

This caused me to laugh because applying that title to a sweet 4 year old is just plain funny. Unfortunately, ChaCha was not so easily amused, and she started to cry. "I'm not a criminal with a master mind! I didn't take your stuff, Bebe!"

Bebe found her stuff and apologized. "I'm sorry. I guess you're not really a criminal mastermind. Just a plain old criminal." Ah, sisterly love.

my pet hate of the moment

I don't see a lot of commercials because we have the miracle that is TiVo. I love you, TiVo. Don't ever break, please.

Anyway, I sometimes see a commercial or two when I watch something in real time. Generally, I watch the program and then do something else during the commercials, like surf a bit or play a game or read something. It's so very 20th century.

Recently, my attention was grabbed when I heard this very plaintive, melancholy version of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame". I looked at the TV expecting to see some sepia-toned vision of old-timey baseball -- like a Ken Burns ad for MLB or something.

What did I see? Soccer. (Or football, if you live somewhere other than the US.) I almost threw something through the TV screen.

It was an ad for Gatorade. And the US soccer team, all as hype for the World Cup. Oh my dear, sweet God, I hate soccer. I think it's boring and did I mention the boring? But, whatever, sell your colored water to the crazy kids who love the football. Except! Except, don't use the song that is about baseball! So wrong. That song is about another sport and for some bizarre reason it pisses me off that soccer is appropriating it.

Get your own damn song.

officially summer

The twins are at day camp. Last year, it was held at their elementary school and we walked back and forth. This year, there is a lot of maintenance work being done on their school (a new roof, all the classrooms being painted), so I have to drive them every day to another school because it's just too far to walk.

Last year, I was a terrible mother and packed them each a sandwich, some fruit or vegetables, and a dessert-y treat with a juice pouch. I was informed this would be completely unacceptable and that they wanted creative, delicious, varied lunches. Well, crap. So, after picking the brains of the Usual Suspects and getting some ideas, we came up with a menu for the first week. I bought them Sanrio bento boxes and the most adorable Hello Kitty tote bags to take every day. Also, wide-brimmed hats and sunscreen. I think Neutrogena is going to send me a personal thank you letter for all the sunscreen I've purchased. Yesterday, they had chicken nuggets, kiwi, a sourdough roll, and fortune cookies, with a juice pouch and some bottled water. Today, they have soba noodles (Lou wanted bits of seaweed and sesame seeds with hers and Bebe just wanted sesame seeds), edamame, and orange slices. With the juice pouch, water, and brownies. So far, no complaints.

Because I have to have our car everyday, we're taking Archie to work. This morning we stopped to get gas and the girls and I were watching a car go through the car wash. When Arch finished pumping the gas, he got back in the car and asked the girls what they thought of the car wash. They all said they thought it was very cool. And, we all got to sit in the car and go through the automatic car wash! Charlotte is still talking about it!

yes

"...I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes. "

Happy Bloomsday.

reason #5 why i love freakmont

The corkage fee at a fairly nice, very yummy restaurant: $10 per.

This meant that we could have two bottles of wine with dinner -- champagne and a bottle of the delicious Gamay Rouge -- for what a decent bottle from the wine list would have cost. Score!

mousies

Oh, we have mice. I saw 2 running out from under the deck and across the driveway. I have decided that they are gay because I don't want to think about them having mouse sex and making baby mice. I am against lots and lots of mice. So, welcome to my delusional world where I declare that there are such things as homosexual mice who are just honeymooning under my deck after their very nice civil ceremony in Canada.

she was really nice

Last night, I just could not get to sleep. And you know what? Even with DirecTV and the magical, mystical, oh-my-God-don't-ever-take-it-away TiVo, late night television is a wasteland. So I ended up watching a little bit of "Nightline" (a piece on the World Cup and the John Cleese-approved song "Don't Mention the War").

Man, I love "The Germans", which is the best episode of "Fawlty Towers". I still laugh out loud just thinking about Basil fussing about the German tourists' table, where he has made all manner of Nazi and Hitler references (including a goose-step with legs so long they seem to kick higher than his head) and asking why one of the women is crying. "Will you stop talking about the war?" one man demands. "Me? You started it!" replies Basil, indignantly. "We did not start it!" counters the German. "Yes you did -- you invaded Poland," answers Basil and then I start to cry with amusement.

Of course, I might think the Bristish were just poking a little fun while watching soccer if not for the fact that the soccer hooligans are so amazingly horrible. If you haven't read "Among the Thugs", you really should. Very disturbing.

Anyway, after "Nightline" I caught the last bit of Conan and then just watched Carson Daly. But only because Sarah Silverman was a guest and she cracks me up. She did not disappoint me. She was telling a story about when she was 7 and she said, "I went to a slumber party at a friend's house. She was really nice. But her mother? Was a whore." Oh, stop, Sarah. I'm still cracking up just thinking about it.

and another thing

Christian Bale is hot. That is all.

bits

Why was the National Spelling Bee rated PG? (Elizabeth noticed this and I didn't know why.)

My opthamologist is very attractive. He has a very wimpy handshake, though. Which means my cute OB with the firm handshake still holds the title of "Katie's Cutest Doctor".

Archie volunteered to work during the elections yesterday. He called me and said, "Woo! Democracy in action! It's nothing like standing in a parking lot with a flashlight." He was directing the precinct judges on where to line up to turn in election returns. Then he helped load a truck with some equipment. So, democracy is all about directing traffic and heavy lifting.

We went to Napa and now I have a case of wine in my kitchen. Good wine, wine good. My summer drinking program is well underway.

Today, I saw a woman with a guide dog. It was a standard poodle. She even showed us that when she tells her dog, "Door!" the poodle leads her to the door and then points his nose at the doorknob. That was cool.

bee season

I love the National Spelling Bee. Love it, love it, love it. The first time I watched was about 10 years ago and there was this girl who was the living embodiment of Mary Catherine Gallagher, the "Saturday Night Live" character. She would lean into the microphone and breathe heavily. She would ask every possible question, repeatedly. At one point, I said to Archie, "I swear, she's going to ask if they can spell it for her!" She didn't win that year, but she won the next year. I was in love with the dorky kids who spent all their time learning root words and languages of origin and just being geeky spellers.

From that moment on, I hoped that some year a kid would ask, "Can you spell that?" Last year, someone did. Fantastic! There was the year a kid passed out cold on the stage. Scary! Then he got up and spelled his word correctly. Amazing!

This year the big drama is that a girl was put out of the competition, but then the judges reviewed the spelling of the word and realized they had added an additional letter. She had spelled the word correctly and was put back in to the next round. Oooo!

I need something new to look forward to. I think it would be hilarious if a kid had no idea how to spell a word and just decided to go out blazing by spelling a very offensive word. Wouldn't that be super funny? "The word is [insert impossible to spell word here]." And the kid spells, "C-o-c-k-s-u-c-k-e-r."

I'm thinking that will never happen.

But it would be hilarious.

in remembrance

"Today many of them are here among us. Oh, they may walk with a little less spring in their step, and their ranks are growing thinner, but let us never forget; when they were young, these men saved the world."

-President Clinton, U.S. National Cemetery, Normandy, France, June 6, 1994 (50th anniversay of D-Day)

poor, sad baby

Ms. Bee apparently had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It started off all wrong because her teacher was out for the day and there was the dreaded substitute. (Not the borderline retarded one who left all the kids on the playground, thank heavens.) Beebs came out of class and leaned against me. I am forbidden from showing any affection to my big girls when in public -- no hugs or head skritches, and a kiss would cause the end of the world. So I let her lean against me and asked what was the trouble. She kind of sighed and the sub came over and said, "Elizabeth fell on the playground and scraped her hand a bit and banged up her knee," and she took Bebe's hand and there was the faintest red mark on her palm, "but I think she's OK." I thanked her and we collected Lou and started the walk home.

Bebe snorfled a tiny bit and I said, "You know, it's very sweet that the sub even knows your name. She seems very nice -- I saw her talk to you this morning when you were dropping off your backpack." "Mommy! How do you know that? That was after we got out of the car!" "I know, but Cha and I watch you two walk to class sometimes, that's all." "Don't do that anymore. I'm not a baby..." and then there was some more snorfling.

After we'd walked a bit, she said, "We were supposed to watch 'Ira Sleeps Over' but instead we watched 'Charlotte's Web' and now we'll never see 'Ira Sleeps Over'!" "Sweetie, you've seen 'Ira Sleeps Over' approximately a thousand times. Just tell your teacher on Tuesday and maybe she can reschedule it, OK?"

"She won't believe me!" I don't know where that came from -- but I just said that her teacher would believe her and left it at that. Then there was a tummyache later in the afternoon. Then she passed out on the couch and I had to carry her to bed.

Poor girlie. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. And she won't have to move to Australia. (Although I'm sure Isabelle would put her up, right Isa?)

thank you, steve nash

And the rest of the Suns, too. A game that wasn't a nail-biter was a nice way to end the day yesterday. And then it was a bit of a pounding at the end. But, you know what? Yay! It's nice to be able to breathe. Really, really nice.

On to the conference finals.

the suns are killing me

Oh, my God. Could they just win a game easily, without all the drama?

Also, I'm watching way too much pre-game and post-game commentary and it's turning me into my dad.

Commentator: What do the Suns need to do to win this game?
Me, screaming at the TV: Score more points than the other team! Morons!

mother's day

A few days ago, Archie asked me what I wanted for breakfast in bed on Mother's Day. "Lunch!" He didn't quite get it. "You want a sandwich for breakfast?" "No, I don't want to get out of bed until lunch." Heh.

So, this morning, about 9 or so, the girlies came in bearing breakfast and gifts. I got coffee and bagels and scrambled eggs. ChaCha climbed onto the bed and said, "Happy Mother's Day! Can I have some of your eggs?"

I recieved flowers. Bebe made me a magnet at school. Lulu made a candle holder. And I also got a lovely pair of pearl earrings from all the girls, with a little help from Archie. Then I just relaxed and went and had my hair cut and we had pizza for dinner.

A really nice day. A shame it only comes once a year. Hee.

another milestone

I just realized, of course days after the fact, that at the birthday party something really fantastic happened. All my kids are old enough that I didn't have to tend to someone or constantly scan and be aware where one or the other was at all times. I didn't have to take a little person to the bathroom or monitor for the bouncing pee dance. When we left the house, for the first time, I didn't take the Badtz-Maru "diaper" bag stuffed with snacks and toys and assorted ungents and bandages. I had conversations that lasted more than a sentence or two -- uninterrupted talking and listening. I had a really fun time myself, not just because the kids did.

This is huge. I came home a little tired, but it was because I had 2 beers, not because I was on high alert for 4 hours. That is a nice feeling.

i should've wished for a pony

That wish that the Suns beat the snot out of the Lakers? Hell, yeah. Bye bye L.A. Really, I should make better wishes. But that was a good, good thing.

A friend of the girls had a birthday party yesterday. Oh, the fun! The bouncy house, the gigantic pack of children squealing and jumping and running about. The relaxation of the parents eating delicious homemade tamales and drinking beer. The beating of the pinata! The scramble for the candy! Cake and jello!

The best part is when the tired, sugar-super-saturated, slightly crabby children fall asleep in about 3.2 seconds. I wish I could bottle that. Because that would make me a small fortune and then I could buy myself a damn pony.

they say it's your birthday

Well, it's mine, at least. So, happy birthday to me and happy Cinco de Mayo everyone.

The girls gave me a thoughtful present -- an oatmeal tin they'd decorated filled with little slips of paper detailing things they'd do for me today. Not fighting, not being crabby, cleaning up -- that sort of thing. Very sweet, right? I showed it to Archie, who said, "So, they're going to do all the things they should do anyway and call it a present and you're buying it? Sucker."

In other good news, the Suns beat the Lakers in OT last night in L.A. Take that, Kobe. Now, if they can just beat the snot out of them in Phoenix on Saturday.

Nothing much is going on here, right now. Minor illness, grumpiness, hilarity, and just regular day-to-day stuff. Which is all better than major sickness, no laughter, and on-going crises. I'll take more of the usual, please, and putter along.

(Also, the twins have made a new friend. This isn't really remarkable, except for the new friend's name. Gigi! Hey, here comes Bebe, Lulu, and Gigi! I could just die from the cuteness. I told Archie and he said, "You know, I'm not as big a fan of the repeating syllable nickname as you are." Whatever. Gigi fits right in and I think we need to find a Fifi or Mimi. The twins had a friend named Trixie last year, which was also fantastic, but Trixie moved away. To Hawaii. I think it's a punishable offense to be envious of a 5 year old. Hee.)

lakers suck

One of Archie's best friends called last night at halftime and was all chatty and up and I sent him into a steep decline. "So, Steve-O, are you calling to distract yourself from the tragedy that was the first half of the Suns game?" His voice got tight and higher-pitched and he said, "It's only halftime! It's only halftime!"

I hate the Lakers. Even if I didn't like the Suns (and I do -- especially Steve Nash who reminds me of the little, kind of greasy guy from "Bad News Bears" and "Breaking Away"), I'd be cheering them on to crush L.A. As Archie has said, it just doesn't seem fair that the Suns, as the number 2 team, have to play the Lakers in the first round.

I'm just hoping they can squeak out of this round. Otherwise, basketball season will be over for me.

(And, as an added bonus, my favorite Suns-related story! When Archie and I had sent out our wedding invitations, one of his friends called and asked if we'd considered changing the date. I asked him why and he said, "Because the Suns are playing that night. I might not be able to make it." I very calmly told him that we expected him to attend our wedding and that I was sure there would be a TV in the bar in the lobby of the hotel if he really needed to catch some of the game. You must keep in mind that we were married in December -- it wasn't like we chose a date in May, or something. Also, I did think it was kind of funny that we couldn't go to Phoenix for his wedding several years later because I was too far along in my first pregnancy to fly. We did send a nice gift, though.)

crud

OK, so the rain seems to have stopped for the season (pleasepleaseplease) and as of right now the sun is out. I'm still feeling low-level sick and wishing I could sleep for a solid week.

Thankfully, spring break is over and we're back to our regular routine. I generally enjoy having all the girlies at home, but being sick made it seem like the week that would never end. Here's hoping some sun and warmer weather will help get us all back on track.

whither spring?

Man, living in California sucks right now. OK, yesterday was gorgeous and sunny and warm. But it's rained almost every day for almost 2 months and I'm officially depressed and fed up. Also, that lovely day? Now I've got the "weather is changing very quickly" cold and I feel like shit and, of course, spring vacation starts for the girls today and I would like a nap, please. Bah.

I want more than a day of sunshine and warm breezes. I'm exhausted by the gray and clouds and damp. I need a lot of sunny days to break this funk.

he'll soon know heartbreak

The twins have a friend named Amari. He's a great kid and he comes home with us and plays and goofs off after school. Today we were watching the end of a Cubs game. I TiVoed past a commercial and then shouted, "Hey! It's time for the stretch!" And the girls came running so we could all sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame". Amari seemed a little amused. Then we watched the final innings and we won! Yay! So the girls and I all danced around.

I know Amari plays Little League, so I asked him if he had a favorite big league team. He quickly said, "The Cubs!" I asked if he didn't really like the As or the Giants and he replied, "I did like the As, but you all cheer for the Cubs and I think I'll be a Cubs fan, too." Awww. Poor dear has no idea they'll break his heart.

I've turned more poor, unsuspecting children into Cubs fans. I think it builds character but Archie thinks it qualifies as child abuse. Heh.

thank god she's smarter than that dummy in the red cape

Whee. What a busy day. I'm surfing, listening to/watching the Cubs home opener, and also trying to play with Charlotte. (Why won't she just let me peacefully veg out in front of a baseball game? Why? Oh, yeah -- she's 4.) Today's play is to act out Little Red Riding Hood. We keep coming up against the fact that Cha is obviously much smarter than Red.

ChaCha: Lalalala.
Me (as the Big Bad Wolf): Hello, little girl. Where are you going?
ChaCha: I'm not talkin' to you -- you're a strange wolf!

Heh. So, we decide to cut straight to the big bedroom meeting.

ChaCha: Grandma, what big eyes you have!
Me: The better to see you with my dear!
ChaCha: I'm scared and going home!

So we're not so much acting out the fairy tale as giving it the new twist with a modern-day preschooler. I couldn't help but be reminded of the modified version of Red by James Thurber. It's the old story, but when the Big Bad declares he's going to eat Red, she pulls out a gun and shoots him dead. The moral? "It is not so easy to fool little girls nowadays as it used to be."

I guess now I can't even fool my own into acting the story out.

the sevens

So, Archie tagged me to do this list thing-y. (I'm not linking -- he's unpublished and trying to be all anonymous, so sorry.)

7 Things to Do Before I Die
*go to Australia
*go to Mongolia
*see a solar eclipse
*run a marathon
*see my Cubbies win a World Series
*play drums in Archie's hypothetical crappy cover band
*become a grandmother (I'm gonna require some assistance from one or more of the girlies for this one, heh)

7 Things I Cannot Do
*whistle a tune
*dive
*have any more babies
*burp on cue
*touch my nose with my tongue
*see those stereoscopic pictures (I have no depth perception, whee)
*do any math higher than algebra

7 Things I Like About My Other Half
*he loves me
*he's very, very funny
*he often vehemently agrees with me -- I think we probably sound like we're arguing, but we're just agreeing with each other
*he's a good dad to our girls
*he has funny terms of endearment for me
*he makes smooch-y noises and expects me to make smooch-y noises in return
*he often buys me chocolate

7 Favorite Books
*Infinite Jest
*The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
*A Prayer for Owen Meaney
*The Brothers K
*Summerland
*Pride and Prejudice
*The Great Gatsby

7 Favorite Movies
*Bull Durham
*Singin' in the Rain
*Raising Arizona
*Shadowlands
*The Thin Blue Line
*The Wizard of Oz
*The Singing Detective (this is a cheat because I'm not referring to the movie, but the BBC miniseries -- but it's one of the best things I've ever seen and I love it)

7 Things I Say
*"Archie!"
*"Bebe!"
*"Louisa May!"
*"Charlotte Jane Campbell!"
*"Do I look like the maid?"
*"Take a deep breath."
*"Please, please, stop hitting each other!"

Feel free to do your sevens. Leave a comment (or leave them in the comments) so I can read yours!

tater bugs

As the member of our family nearest to the ground, it falls to Charlotte to alert us to all the fun things the rest of us taller people are missing. In fact, she takes this responsibility very seriously and it's one reason why we have to leave early when walking somewhere. I just know she'll see something (a snail, a worm, a long row of busy ants) and we'll have to stop and admire it.

The other day, we were walking down to the school to pick up the twins. Cha stopped and yelled, "Roly poly bug!" So, we had to stop and make it roll up and then we had to wait and watch it unroll and wiggle all its legs and flip over and then make it roll up again. (When I was growing up, we called these bugs tater bugs and I think some people call them sow bugs.) We came upon another one a little further on and had to stop and repeat the process.

As we were walking back home, now with the twins along, we saw 3 of these creatures. And, since we didn't have to rush at all, we stopped and tormented the poor things. We must be quite a sight to the neighborhood -- 3 little girls and their mother, all crouched down talking loudly and laughing about bugs.

my california girls

There is a book by Calvin Triilin called "Fatherhood". It's about, well, his experiences of parenting his two girls. There is one piece in the book about how he was from Missouri and he just always assumed that his daughters were Missourians at heart who happened to be growing up in New York City. I think (it's been a long time since I read the book) he said he realized that his kids were real, honest-to-goodness New Yorkers when they would talk about subway directions and alternate routes at a very young age that he didn't even know existed, even though he'd lived in the city for the majority of his adult life.

Today, I realized that I have always kind of thought of my girls as little transplanted Midwesterners. But the following conversation I overheard in the car disabused me of that notion.

Bebe: We're having our class party tomorrow!
Lulu: Wow! You're so lucky!
Bebe: I know! It's gonna be so cool. Hecka cool!

Hecka cool. Dear Lord, I have children who are Californians.

(Also, Bebe said, "Snap!" to some comment of Louisa's, and I laughed for at least 5 minutes. Not only are they Californians, they are already cooler and hipper than I am. Which isn't much of a stretch, I admit. But still. Snap.)

i swear i've never even heard the song

So, I thought I needed to record my answer to the random question Blogger gives you for your profile page, because I'm sadly proud of it. Plus, I like to change the question now and again.

You have a red jar of cedar chips. Why do moths miss the forest?
They don't! My red jar of cedar chips brings all the moths to my yard.

Oh, God, I crack myself up. Off to hunt for a new question. I don't know that I can ever top that one, though.

the sentence that made me lose my shit

"I have no idea where your child is."

Let me explain. I went to the elementary school to pick up the twins. I was there, between the classrooms, before the bell went off. Lulu came out of her classroom and I noticed that she had a substitute. Then the door to Bebe's class opened and another sub stepped out. I waited. Then Lou said, "Where's Elizabeth, Mama?" I looked into the classroom and there were no kids inside.

"Excuse me. My daughter is in this class. Where is she?"
"I have no idea where your child is."
"Excuse me?"
"We were out on the playground and the bell rang. I came back here."

I felt panic and fear rising from my gut. I walked quickly, Lou right beside me, over to the playground. The entire class was running around, yelling and squealing. I hollered at all of them that the bell had rung and they needed to come back to the classroom -- I herded everyone up and walked back so Bebe could get her coat and backpack.

While I was waiting, the sub said, "I told them to come back when the bell rang. I came back. I don't know why they didn't."

"Well, they're six. And you're in charge. You can't just leave first graders on the playground."

It took every ounce of self-control not to punch her in her stupid, dumbass face. I couldn't go over to the office to complain because we had to go and pick up Charlotte at preschool. But I am going to give the principal an earful tomorrow morning.

slough

So, in a fit of boredom, I checked my stats for a laugh. Someone from Slough visited. Slough! Of "The Office" and Ozzy Osbourne's tragic all-terrain vehicle accident from several years ago. Said visitor was directed here by a web search for "removing a child's wobbly tooth". I am, of course, an expert on wibbly-wobbly teeth. But I do not recommend trying to remove them. Because if your kid is anything like mine, there will be cries of despair and upset. (It is possible I know someone who threatens to remove loose teeth just to incite the uproar. But you didn't hear that from me, oh no.)

In even less exciting news, I have found the Holy Grail of food for the girlies. Stir fry veggies with shrimp. My God, they ate as if they would never see food again. Sadly, shrimp are expensive and I cannot make this culinary delight every night. One young person cried when I told her the shrimp were all gone. Heartbreak!

(Also, I am a big liar. The shrimp were not, in fact, all gone. I just said they were so I could eat them for lunch today. Today, when I have a little time in my house all alone with no children. I will be watching bad TiVoed programs and eating shrimp.)

ac/dc

It's almost bedtime and Archie's fired up AC/DC on the stereo. While "Back in Black" blares and the girlies are doing their best air guitar heroics, Bebe yells, "This is the most rock and roll song EVER!"

Now they're all calling "Oi!" They're TNT, baby, they're dynamite. Watch them explode.

an odd talk with my mom

So, my mom and I were talking the other night. Mostly about the kids and how my aunt and uncle are doing. (My mom's sister and her husband are both in poor health and my mom is serving as their main caretaker.) Then we talked about "American Idol" and then my mom said, "Ooo, I saw a really cute show and I thought you would love it and was wondering if you watched it?"

Now, I love my mom. She's a wonderful person and fun and we get along fantastically. We have very different tastes in entertainment, however. ("American Idol" and "House" excepted.) She spent years trying to get me to watch "JAG". When she would visit, she'd try to talk me in to watching "Judging Amy". (True story: A few years ago, there was a commercial that ran for "Judging Amy". It was the main actress, in a tank top, and she'd stretch her arms up over her head. Every time we'd see it, Archie would say, "'Judging Amy'. It's all about the law." Heh.) Anyway, because of our different tastes in TV, I was inwardly cringing about what she was about to recommend.

"It's on HBO and called 'Big Love' and it's about a polygamist family. Kate, it's so adorable! I've already got a pass on TiVo so I don't miss any of the episodes!"

Seriously, my mom is watching "Big Love" and thinks it's cute. Cute! The scary thing? I've got the first ep on my TiVo.

Maybe we're not as different as I think.

our completely boring life

Man, things have been boring. Seriously, this morning, right before we left for school, Lulu picked up a cup off of the counter and turned it upside down over her head, water went everywhere, and I had to do an emergency blow-dry of her hair and change her shirt. And that's as exciting as it's been for forever. A wet kid 10 minutes before we leave to go to school. Woo!

Everyone is healthy. Mostly happy. We're waiting for the rain to stop. Last week, Cha and I had to walk in hail to pick the twins up from school. Hail! I guess that was kind of exciting.

OK, one pretty cute kid thing. I was taking Cha to her opthamologist appointment and I reached back from the driver's seat and squeezed her knee. Archie does this a lot because after you squeeze the knee, she chirps, "Thank you!" Anyway, I squeezed and no comment. I squeezed again -- nothing. I squeezed a third time, and she said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Heh.

thelma and louise

This is a story from when I was a young, footloose woman. Before I even knew Archie. One of my brothers had a girlfriend named Kelly. She was fun. We went out a lot together, without my brother. We'd go dancing and stay 'til the club closed and then we'd get breakfast and she'd drop me off at home. We'd meet cute boys. Life was great.

One day, we went and saw the movie "Thelma & Louise". Then we went back to my house for dinner and we decided to go out dancing. My brother gave Kelly her gun -- he'd cleaned it for her. It was unloaded. She stupidly put it under the front passenger side seat. I didn't know much about guns and didn't much care -- we we're going out dancing!

We got to the Brewery District and proceeded to drink a little and dance a lot. We danced and danced. We both ended up dancing with two cute boys. There might have been some kissing. The place was closing and we decided to all go and get breakfast and the boys got in Kelly's car with us.

We didn't go too far -- there was an all-night place close by. Kelly parked the car and the guy she was with ws getting out of the front seat and he said, "I just hit something under the seat with my foot." "Oh, that's my iron," Kelly replied. The guy said, "Why would anyone keep their iron in their car?" Kelly and I started to laugh. He thought it was an iron for pressing clothes! Ah, cute boy. "It's my gun!" said Kelly.

We went into the diner. We sat down and ordered drinks. The boys excused themselves to use the bathroom. Our coffee came. No boys. We got refills -- no boys. When out waitress came and asked if we wanted to order, I said, "Well, we came with two guys and they went the bathroom and we're waiting for them." "Kind of tall guys, brown hair, one wearing a leather jacket?" "Yeah..." "They left 20 minutes ago."

We laughed and ordered breakfast. And continued to laugh because, guys don't go to the bathroom together. Obviously, they thought we were some kind of criminals, toting a gun in the car, ready to shoot them after we fed them breakfast or something. Which we most definitely weren't planning on doing, since there was no ammo in the gun. "God -- they thought we were Thelma and Louise!" I said.

catching up

Why do people still look at this page every day? There has been nothing new in several weeks. I am a bad person. But now many of you are rewarded!

So, mostly I'm just going along and trying to watch way too much TV every night. Because -- Olympics! And "American Idol"! And also getting my weekly hour of "Bleak House" (although next week is the two week finale and those of you not watching can rent or purchase the DVD)! Then there is the sad, sad, state of my TiVo, jam-packed with stuff that there just isn't enough time to watch.

I'm turning into a bad Olympics watcher. I'm only really watching the figure skating. I tried -- I fell in love with Shaun White, aka The Flying Tomato and I paid attention to some of the early speed skating. But then I just couldn't bear to watch any skiing or the crazy luge/bobsled/skeleton stuff. The figure skating makes me happy. There was the crazy French guy skating to James Bond-movie music in his tuxedo with 007 on the back in rhinestones and making a gun finger. Oh, that was very funny and I just gave over to the insanity and laughed through the entire thing. Pluschenko (or however it's spelled) and his crazy arms that flew off into the audience. (OK, not really. But wouldn't it have been fantasic if they had?) Johnny Weir and his crazy individuality and insistence in a spotlight piece that old fogeys should be frightened of him because he will do what he wants, when he wants, damn everyone else. Um, Johnny? You're a figure skater. No one cares what you say -- we just want you to do a quad, lots of triples, and look pretty. If you want anyone to take your ideas seriously, you might want to look into college or something. Otherwise, please try to make your bus and not be so pouty. Because Evan Lysacek had a horrible short and then skated a beautiful long while suffering from stomach flu. You just look like a whiny boy compared to that.

Then there was the carnage (I love Canadian announcers!) of the ice dancing competition. Everyone falling down! An Italian couple refusing to talk to each other because of a fall! Drama! Ugly, ugly costumes. The women's short program was fantastic and I'm looking forward to the free skate. Plus -- the exhibition!

Because of all the crazy TV watching, I am tired. But, this past Monday, we took the girls to this amusement-type place and had lots of fun. This place is mostly a lot of little playgrounds and then there are a handful of rides and it is completely stuck in the 50s or 60s. Lots of worn paint and the rides are incredibly lame. But the girls lovelovelove it. There is a dragon ride -- like a train, but it's a dragon -- that goes through a shady circuit around the park. There are all these little things along the route -- but they are totally cheesy. As I said to Archie, "I think this is where damaged lawn ornaments come to retire!" Little garden gnomes, rusty metal deer, two big plastic pandas among some bamboo. It would be completely sad except that all the girls just love it because they are so easy to please.

I was telling Archie that Universal studios is running a commercial where these 6 and 7 year olds are complaining about going to Disneyland (but without naming Disneyland) because they are too, too jaded and teacup rides and princesses and Winnie the Pooh characters are too babyish for sophisticated children, now. Our little trips to this kind of crappy place ensure that our kids will think Disneyland is the best place ever. Heh.

not a bleak house

I'm watching the Masterpiece Theater miniseries "Bleak House". (You should be watching it, and if not, rent the DVD which will come out in a few weeks. It's really, really good.) I just finished the first two hour installment and Lulu and ChaCha watched the last 10 or so minutes. Lou asked what it was about and I said it was about a court case and the lives of all the people the case has an effect upon. And that it's based on a book written by Charles Dickens which was published about 150 years ago.

And Charlotte said, "So, Charles Dickens is...a zombie?"

I think she might have a future career in literary theory. She's taken the whole dead white authors thing to a brand new level.

i have no reply to that

Archie got us Togo's sandwiches for dinner (shut up) and he got the girls these individual bags of mini sandwich cookies. Bebe and Lulu said they couldn't finish their cookies and wanted me to save them, so I put the bags on top of the fridge. But Cha was still eating her cookies and the twins decided they wanted their bags back. So I gave them the cookies.

Fast forward to a few minutes later and Lulu is crying that all her cookies are gone. Here is the conversation that followed:

Me: Of course they're gone -- you ate them.
Lulu: But I wanted to eat them tomorrow!
Me: Then you shouldn't have asked for the cookies.
Lulu: You should have stopped me from eating them! Wah!

You know what? The title of this post is a total lie. I did have a reply. "OK, it's time for bed!"

we could have won $10,000

I have a really shameful confession to make. I watch "America's Funniest Home Videos". I know, I know. But every Sunday, we have dinner, bathe all the girlies, and settle in for some laughs watching groin injuries, silly animals, and cute (and gross) baby antics. Ah, sweet family time.

Tonight, after our shameful TV viewing, I helped the girls brush their teeth. They got these suction cup toothbrushes at the dentist on their last visit. They're just regular toothbrushes, but at the end there is a suction cup. This is handy when preparing three toothbrushes -- put on some toothpaste and then stick it onto the vanity, awaiting use. (With normal, non-suction-y toothbrushes, they can roll if you try to balance them on the backs and then there is upset and bedtime is ruined. Ruined!)

So, I'm doing a follow-up brushing for Bebe and I glance over at ChaCha and I immediately started to laugh. She'd stuck her toothbrush to the wall and was standing on her tiptoes, brushing her teeth by moving her head around the toothbrush. Damn, I wish I'd had the video camera right then. It was hysterical.

I'm sure we would have won some big money on AFV. Heh.

more tv talk -- american idol

I really love "American Idol", as I wrote yesterday. I especially enjoy the audition shows -- I think they are some of the most entertaining moments on television right now. Archie does not share this love. Usually, he leaves the family room and goes into the office/guest room to escape. I often go back and make him come and watch particularly awful contestant hopefuls. (The only exception was the year George was a finalist and Archie actually watched some of the competition. Next to Kelly's big band performance in the first season, George's rendition of Elton John's "Take Me to the Pilot" was a big hit in our house. Then George had to go and do "Against All Odds", which I think we should all agree is a horrible song and it should be banned from all future AI installments. Archie would sit and grimace through almost all of the other performances just for George, but once he was gone, Archie lost all interest.)

So, last night, Arch was not amused when I interuppted his web surfing and told him he had to come and see an audition. But I was tricking him! I wanted him to see a really amazing singer; he was certain he was going to see a mentally disturbed person speak to the world through song and demonstrating to us all that madness takes many forms. Heh. I wanted him to hear Paris Bennett.

People, this girl can sing. Archie's jaw dropped a little. She's 17 and completely adorable. I think her audition is the best one in the history of the show. Archie and I agreed that her audition alone will probably generate interest in her, even if she doesn't get out of the early rounds in Hollywood. (And, unless we discover that ventriloquism was involved , I can't imagine that happening.) So, I'm going out on a limb and predicting that she's gonna take the whole shebang this season.

I'm sure I'll live to eat those words. But she was good.

my crazy love of reality tv

Hi. My name is Katie and I am addicted to reality TV. Almost every show I have a season pass for on the TiVo (the best and most important invention after the television itself) is some form of reality TV.

"American Idol" is just starting for the season. I adore the audition shows -- really bad singing and acting out are very, very entertaining. I have spent the last however many seasons trying to figure out if the people who can't sing are mentally challenged or spoiled or just insane. My conclusion is that most of these people have never had a lesson or performed for anyone aside from family and close friends. Because, if you have ever done anything for another observer, you know that the party who has no vested interest in you will tell you straight if you are good, bad, or indifferent. And I am proud to say that I can spot the bad singers right away -- they are the ones who are always talking about how fantastic they are and how singing is their way of connecting with the world. Uh, yeah. If either of those things come out of your mouth, you will suck. The people who are good just come in and sing. Also, if you wear a costume or have some gimmick, we all know you have not a nano-ounce of talent.

To prove that I am strange and lost in a time warp -- I also love "Skating with Celebrities". Because it is great fun to scream at the TV when the woman from Fox sports starts to skate, "Ringer! Ringer!" And I love that the judges are like a skating version of the "American Idol" judges. You have the hardass coach who is harsh and mean -- just like Simon. Dorothy Hamill is so Paula Abdul -- except that Dorothy was actually good. But she still wants to be nice and encouraging. (Also, is there a secret to Dorothy's youthfulness? She looks amazing.) And then there's the skating journalist guy who can be blunt or sweet, depending -- a very whitebread Randy. (He does need a codephrase like "Dog!", though.)

And, because I'm old and creaky, I must watch "Dancing with the Stars". Although the use of the word "stars" is debatable. Heh. This year, the stars are, in general, much more talented. And we have more of them! Every week when I express love for a couple, they are voted off. Sigh. I just love every cheesy moment of this show. Tom Bergeron's lame jokes. The outlandish arguing of the judges. All the crazy costumes! Don't even get me started on the batshit musical selections. Heh. Hi -- I'm a middle-aged mother with no desire to do anything but watch semi-celebrities try to dance.

Oh, and those are just the shows that are currently on. I am nuts about "America's Next Top Model". I never miss "The Amazing Race". Hell, I am sucked in by the drama and nuttiness of "Celebrity Fit Club". Gunner Nelson? Dude, you're not even remotely fat. (And you've had liposuction twice? I don't even know what to say.) And every season of this show has a contestant who goes off the rails in a spectacular, substance abuse haze.

Please don't hate me. I have a problem.

dna update

This afternoon, Charlotte wanted to practice saying "deoxyribonucleic acid". She started chanting "deoxyribonucleic underpants". Who knows why? Not me. But it is much funnier than deoxyribonucleic acid. "Underpants" is just more amusing than "acid". Underwear that carries the genetic code? That's comedy genius, right there.

fire! fire! fire!

Last night was Archie's work holiday party. We got all fancy and had an evening out. We ate at a (or as Archie likes to say, probably the) French restaurant here in Fremont. It was very delicious. I had a struggle about dessert. They had a chocolate souffle, but we were headed over to San Francisco for the party, so we wanted something we could get a little faster. And then I noticed the flambe menu. (Please imagine the accent over the "e".)

I love flaming desserts. So we had Cherries Jubilee, because how can you go wrong with cherries, liqueur, sugar, orange, ice cream, and fire? You can't, is what I'm saying.

We chatted and talked and drank (just a little) at the party. They had a swing band and some people were dancing. Archie and I swore we'd take dancing lessons for the millionth time. I would love to learn how to really dance, not my bobbing hopping Snoopy dance. Which looks pretty stupid when I'm wearing heels.

The kicker was I still felt like I was playing dress-up, even though I'm 40 and that's definitely a grown up age, right? 40 year olds dress up and eat fancy flaming desserts and drink champagne and all that. And I know I'm at least a little grown up because I put my dress on a hanger and my glittery shoes in their shoebox before I went to bed. I'm so responsible.

the very literal child

The twins are very imaginative. When presented with a box to play with, they turn it into a castle or race car or rocket ship.

Today, Cha was sitting in our latest box. When I asked her what it was, she answered, "A box."

farewell christmas tree

Yesterday we took down the Christmas tree. I thought we were kind of sad for having the tree up so long (although we weren't really healthy enough to enjoy it much) because in my family, the tree came down on New Year's Day. Archie expressed surprise at this and said his mom kept their (live) trees up until February! He said she'd take really good care of them and only dismantle them when they were just too far gone. I guess there are still ways my husband can surprise me -- I had no idea.

Now our living room looks kind of different and empty.

conversations

While waiting at the dentist's, Charlotte and I were perusing the Scientific American. She pointed to an illustration of DNA.

"What's that?"
"That's DNA. A double helix. Can you say deoxyribonucleic acid?"
"Dee-oxee-riiibo-new-cley-ic acid!"

Later, as I was having a filling finished up, I heard the dentist asking Cha if deoxyribonucleic acid was her favorite word.

"No. Fart is my favorite word."

*****

There was an article in the magazine about studies with rats and that the hormones of pregnancy, birth, and lactation not only influence mothering patterns, but that they also have an effect on the intelligence of mothers. Being a mother (at least, if you're a rat) makes you smarter. Seriously. The mother rats did better on mazes!

"Archie, listen to this: When mother rats are offered a choice of cocaine or their pups, they choose the pups. Babies are a drug!"
"Mmm hmm."
"At least, rat pups are a drug."

Later in the evening, I brought up that conversation. (Was it a conversation? Maybe it was just me talking.)

"Hey, remember when I told you babies were a drug?"
(Archie pauses the DVD player and turns to me. I'm bad for interrupting "Network".)
"Yes."
"That reminds me of that old Robin Williams bit about how having a baby is like doing drugs. You know, you're awake for days..."
"Yeah. You're paranoid and covered in bodily fluids."
"Yeah! And think about it -- they both cost lots of money."
"Are you done?"
"Yeah."

Maybe motherhood making you smarter really does only apply to rats.

i may love brent musberger

This holiday season has been not so wonderful, what with all the sick and blah and rain.

But the Fiesta Bowl, a minute away from halftime, is turning into my great bright spot. As Brent just said, "This is an old-fashioned, Buckeye butt-kicking."

I also love Troy. Oh, yes, I do. Santonio Holmes needs to stop the grandstanding, but I'll let him have his little moments as long as he keeps scoring touchdowns.

Go, Bucks! Beat the Irish!

a slight misunderstanding

Charlotte has asked the same question the past two mornings, upon waking. "Did Santa come last night?" I think she's not quite grasping the whole one night per year visitation.

Wouldn't it be swell to get Christmas every day? It would, if you weren't Santa. Heh.

a minor christmas miracle

ChaCha woke up at about 5.30am, fussy and unhappy. By the time I got there, the big girls were kind of awake. I said, "Why don't we all go back to sleep for a little bit? It's still very, very early." Without any complaint, on Christmas morning, my kids went back to bed. And slept until almost 9.

Honestly, it was just the Christmas morning we all needed. We all seem to be on the mend, Santa stopped by, and now it's almost time for dinner.

have yourself a merry little christmas

If you're familiar, this is the saddest, most poignant of all Christmas songs. It's from "Meet Me in St. Louis" and, while melancholy, is also a little hopeful.

This has been a fine year for us. But the past week of illness, hitting right before Christmas, has left us all a little glum and down. Would we get everything done that needed to be done? Will we feel well enough to even enjoy Christmas?

"Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow..."

ping pong

So, as we all recuperate, what better thing to do than watch the original "King Kong"?

Cha kept calling it Ping Pong. And, when Kong was fighting all the people at the end of the Skull Island sequence, Bebe said, "Why is he so mad?" And ChaCha answered, "Because the monkey wants his woman!"

I may still be a tad feverish, but I think my 3 year old has come up with the perfect tagline for "King Kong": Because the monkey wants his woman.

fever 2: electric boogaloo

Whee! We're all sick. After I picked Bebe up from school yesterday, I started to feel shaky and unsteady. By an hour later, I had a fever and the chills combined with a nasty cough which forced Archie, who was also getting sick, to get the kids fed and off to bed.

Today, Lulu was running a fever again and Bebe was complaining of having wibbly wobbly legs. So, I loaded my own sick butt in the car and took their homework down to the school and picked up their holiday homework. Cha would come over to the couch and ask me to play -- I felt badly but I just couldn't.

I'm starting to feel a little bit better, but not much. I hope we can pull Christmas together. I think we can, but Arch and I are going to be fairly miserable, I think. We may have to save the annual Christmas dinner for another day when we all feel better.

fever

Lulu has a fever. She's so hot and flushed. And just worn out, poor thing. Usually, she's a firecracker, with her orange hair and her too-loud voice and her endless energy. Today she's been limp and anything she says is a whisper.

I hate when any of the kids are sick, but Louisa always worries me. She's so skinny and when she's ill, she seems so fragile. I worry when Bebe or ChaCha are sick, but they're so solid that I feel as if they can weather an infection or a fever. With Lou, even a cold can seem like a battle.

I'm a fairly pragmatic parent -- I don't call the doctor or after-hours care for any little sniffle or sneeze. But I can be a doctor or nurse's worst nightmare -- a parent with a high-speed internet connection and a browser with built-in Google. Last year, I was convinced that Lulu had meningitis and the night nurse had to talk me down.

When I put Lulu in bed for the night, I mentioned she'd probably need to stay home tomorrow. She quietly said, "But Mama -- my perfect attendance! Can't I just go to school and then come home in an hour? Then I can still have my perfect attendance." Even when she's sick, she worries about that damn award. I told her I was more concerned that she gets a lot of rest and that her fever will come down as her body fights off whatever infection or invader has gotten in.

So, I'll be up and down all night, taking her temperature every few hours and giving her some more Motrin in a while. Making her take a few sips of juice. Uncovering her when she feels too hot and covering her up when she starts to shiver. Sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her hot, flushed cheek as she sleeps fitfully. It's one of the times when I'm needed most and the one time when being needed makes me feel awful.

12 anniversaries

Some have been romantic, some have been forgotten in the chaos of children and life. One was mentioned, briefly, just before midnight in a rented minivan somewhere in Indiana. Last year, we commented on being married for 11 years and then spoke about our undying hate and I asked for a divorce. (All a joke, in case you don't know us.)

So, here comes the sap. I love you very much, sweetie. I can't believe it's been 12 years. I would do it all over again.

Thanks for the candy! (He just gave me 2 boxes of See's candy. Ain't he sweet?)

not ready for christmas

I haven't bought a single gift. I haven't been to the grocery to buy the necessary stuff for dinner and desserts for the big day. We do have the tree up and decorated. But everything else is, most decidedly, not done.

What have I been doing? Looking at clothes and stationery online. And shoes.

And I've watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" roughly 400 times in the past week.

Thank goodness there are a few days left to shop and wrap.

small comfort

She was standing on the sidewalk in downtown Palo Alto. It was around lunchtime -- lots of people walking past. She was almost a fixture -- the crazy lady with the shopping cart and the baby doll, mumbling to herself. But this day, she was crying and begging, "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" Yelling at the voices that only she could hear.

Archie walked a little past her, and then turned and said, loudly, "Leave her alone!"

As he turned and began to walk on, he heard her say, "Thank you."

everybody hurts

We're all sick, to some degree. I have a low-level case of the blahs with a cough for added excitement. Lou and Archie are getting over fairly evil colds. Poor Bebe is right in the miserable stage of the cold. Charlotte seems mostly OK, except she has a little cough and has been sneezing like crazy. (I always say, "Bless you!" when she sneezes and she always says, "Thank you!" But if I'm not paying close enough attention, she'll say, loudly, "I sneezed, Mama! Bless me!")

I hate when the kids are sick. But at least they can all tell me where and what hurts, now. It was terrible when they were babies and toddlers. I still remember Christmas 2000, when the twins were about 17 months old. Archie was very sick for several days leading up to Christmas. This meant that I was completely responsible for the kids all the time and I had to do all the Christmas shopping on my own, too. Then the girls and I got sick -- fevers, aches (I think the girls were ache-y; I certainly was), coughs, and general listlessness. Archie went back to work, and the girlies and I camped on the couch and watched Nick Jr. all day. Every time I had to change a diaper, it took a tremendous effort on my part.

The capper to the week of sick was New Year's Eve, when Archie went out to get some food and I had to call him on his cell and beg him to come home. I'd put the girls to bed, but Lulu was crying about an hour later. She had vomited in her crib. I got her out and cleaned her up and changed her pajamas. Then she started walking around and crying and puked on the move. When Archie finally got home, she was in her fourth pair of jammies and all I wanted to do was get out of my soaked clothes.

Thankfully, no puking right now. Just the general crabbiness that comes from nasty colds. Maybe Santa should bring us all some Ny-Quil.

anachronism!

We're watching "Everybody Hates Chris". It's the Christmas episode and Chris wants a Walkman. The year is 1982 and they show a guy singing along to the Tears for Fears song "Shout".

"That's wrong. I don't think that song came out until several years later -- like 84 or 85." Archie said, "I think you're right." And, through the power of modern technology, I now know "Songs from the Big Chair" was released in 85.

Several questions arise:

1. Don't TV shows have someone who checks these things?
2. Why do I have this crap stuck in my head?
3. Why do I care?

space chicken!

In March of '94, Archie and I drove to Austin to visit with his good friend, Joel, and to enjoy SXSW. (Why, yes, this was when we were both still in our 20s and under the illusion that we were semi-cool in our musical taste. Currently, I'm 40 and under no such illusions. I was excited last week when I actually could identify a song by a current popular group.) We stayed with Joel and his roommate Steven and ate lots of good food and attended concerts and drank lots of Shiner Bock. We slept in late (SXSW coincided with Spring Break and Joel and Steven had the week off since they were a teacher and librarian, respectively) and watched some movies in the late mornings/early afternoons. On VHS. On a tiny 13 inch TV. Remember 1994?

One early afternoon, we decided to watch "A Brief History of Time" -- an Erroll Morris documentary about Stephen Hawking. Keep in mind the 13 inch TV and also that it was a sunny afternoon. The movie starts with a field of stars and a voiceover in Hawking's IBM-manufactured voice. "Which came first -- the chicken or the egg?" And then a large chicken appears in front of all the stars.

Now, the appearance of the chicken may have been a tiny bit alarming in a theater, where it would have been extremely large. But on a small TV, it was just kind of amusing. Yet, when the chicken appeared, we all heard this squeaky gasp, and we looked to see Steven clutching at the neck of his t-shirt, and then he sort of fanned himself. We were all a bit confused and asked him what was wrong.

"The space chicken frightened me!"

woe. misery. sadness.

Anyone who has read along for a few months (or worked through the archives), may remember that I am a slave to the deliciousness that is Diet Vanilla Coke (or Vanilla Diet Coke or Heroin in a Can). It is, really, precious, life-giving fluid.

Lately, I haven't been able to buy a case (OK, OK, several cases -- happy now?) from our local grocery. Archie has even been searching and can't find any. It has been a puzzle. One I wasn't overly concerned about because I am easy and will consume any Coke version, if the need arises. But, still.

And then I read a blog post where a person was also bemoaning the lack of Diet Vanilla Coke. Hmm.

A quick Google search determined that the evil pushers at the Coca-Cola Company have discontinued my beloved fix. I am still a little in shock. I may never taste perfection again.

Except that in 2006 they'll be debuting Black Cherry Vanilla Diet Coke. Maybe I'll live.

does nokia know about this?

We have a fabric Nativity set that my sister-in-law made for the girls. The main attraction is that the Baby Jesus is removable from the manger. After dinner this evening, Bebe came into the kitchen, clutching the replica of the newborn Messiah to her ear.

"Baby Jesus is my cellphone!"

I couldn't stop laughing to ask what his ringtone is.

doin' da butt

"Hey, Charlotte! Guess what?"
"What?"
"Chicken butt!"

*****

"Guess what?"
"What?"
"Duck butt!"

*****

"Cha, guess what?"
"What?"
"Snake butt!"
"Mama. Snakes do not have butts. Snakes only have tails!"

*****

"Mama! Mama! Guess what?"
"What?"
"Charlotte butt!"

(Child pulls down her pants and wiggles her backside. We're oh, so very sophisticated around here.)

popular -- in a good way

When I went to the girls' parent-teacher conferences, Bebe's teacher asked me if I had any concerns. I asked if she had friends; if she got along with the other kids. I said I often watched the girls when they dropped their backpacks off at the classrooms and Beebs would just stand there, looking a little sad and lonely and it worried me a bit. Her teacher laughed and said, "Oh, Elizabeth is very popular. All her classmates like her, she's helpful, and she makes them laugh. Yeah, she's really popular with the other kids."

Now, as someone who was most decidedly not popular, I am both comforted and concerned. I knew kids growing up who were popular and kind of mean and nasty. And I don't want my kids to be that kind of popular. But the teacher's comments lead me to believe that maybe Bebe will be popular in a good way -- liked and also kind and open to all kids. I hope she'll be like a classmate of mine -- Laura Sass.

(I'm putting her name here because maybe she'll Google herself and see that I thought she was neat-o. Heh.)

I went all through school with Laura. She was pretty, with long blonde hair and blue eyes and freckles across her nose. I was so enamored of those freckles that I tried to give myself some with my mom's eyebrow pencil. As we went through school, she always invited me to her slumber parties -- I felt like the odd person out, but she was so kind and friendly to me when lots of kids weren't. In high school, she was a cheerleader and had a completely different circle of friends from me.

But one day, I saw her do something that I thought was terribly sweet. The cheerleaders would make up these mascot things, one for each player and they'd tape them to the wall in the lobby on Friday before the football games. Before the first class, girlfriends of the players would take the ones for their boyfriends and put them in their lockers (the girlfriends' lockers, that is). Girls who liked certain players would take down the ones of the boys they liked. Of course, there were always players whose mascots would be left on the wall -- no one wanted them. I came late to school one morning and saw Laura taking down the leftover decorations. As I was signing in at attendance, I watched her walk to her locker and stick them inside the door to display them. She could have thrown them away. But, instead, she displayed them as if those boys were worthy and deserving. Which, of course, they were and she recognized that. That one small act by a very well-liked and popular girl has stuck with me.

So, I hope that my Elizabeth, if she continues to be popular, can handle that with as much grace and charm as Laura. There should be no shame in being well-liked. Especially if you deserve to be.

a mysterious plot.

Last night, Archie picked up a little notepad left on the floor. He read the writing and said, "Oh my God! What in the hell is this?" He seemed genuinely upset. He handed me the pad and written on the first page was the following:

Prtend to be dead. Ues handcuffs. Distact him.

(Translation: Pretend to be dead. Use handcuffs. Distract him.)

Archie was freaked out and concerned about what this could possibly mean and why a 6 year old would write it. I joked that he was so worried because it was obviously about him -- what with Archie being the only male in the house. I was unconcerned because the list was obviously not referring to me. "Been nice knowing you, honey. Sorry one of the girls is out to get you."

Being a dad, Archie did take the time to note that there were only 3 spelling errors.

This morning, I asked the big girls which of them had written the list and what it meant. Louisa 'fessed up that it was her handiwork and it described ways to get Lance. Lance is the current focus of that time-honored playground obsession of chasing a member of the opposite sex. So, she could play dead and lure him close to her so she could "get" him. (I believe "get" means grabbing him and squealing in his face.) Or she could use handcuffs (although I don't know where she's gonna get those). Or she could distract him and then pounce.

Don't be fooled, Lance! Run like the wind!

my mother is a genius.

When you get married, people love to give you advice about how to have a successful relationship. The most popular one is, "Never go to bed angry."

The night before the Big Day, I mentioned this bit of wisdom to my mother. She laughed. "Kate, a good night's sleep trumps everything. A fight'll keep. Brush your teeth and get some rest, I say."

why do i remember this?

When I was in college, I had two friends I goofed around with -- Joe and Milo. (Milo wasn't his real name. I just called him that because he looked like the illustration of Milo in "The Phantom Tollbooth".) Both were from the suburbs of Chicago and they were smart and funny. Joe was the next to youngest in an Italian-American family with 9 kids. Milo was the third in an Irish-American family of 4. They had a lot in common, including a love for the Cubs and an obsession with The Who.

We were in the dining hall one night in the first week of school. Everyone was eating spaghetti. We were all chatting and suddenly, Joe laid down his fork and spoon and said, "What in the hell are you doing?" Milo looked around and said, "Are you talking to me?" "Yeah. What are you doing?"

Milo looked down at his plate. "I'm cutting my spaghetti."

Joe looked as though he would have a stroke. "Why would you do that? Don't you know that cutting the noodles changes their molecular structure? You are messing up your food on an atomic level!"

Milo looked unconcerned. "Yeah. But it's easier to eat if I cut it up."

Joe shook his head. "You can never come for dinner at my folks' house. My mom and dad would kill you."

bloody

This morning we took the girls to the Christmas party at Archie's work. They had a blast -- cookies and Goldfish crackers (red and green!) and juice. A craft. Pictures with Santa. Plus, the twins were ecstatic to see their new friend (the daughter of Archie's colleague). The party was winding down right about lunch, so we invited the other family to have luch with us at a local restaurant. That went swimmingly. Charlotte got a bit squirrely after she finished eating, so she and I beat feet to the car where we listened to some tunes on the iPod (hooked into the car radio). She fell asleep. Archie came out with the big girls about 15 minutes later and by the time we got home all the girlies were snoozing.

We had dinner and got ready for slumber party night. The feature presentation was "Babe". About halfway through the movie, the girls were goofing around and I heard a thud and then a scream. Lulu had pushed ChaCha, who hit the floor and bit into her lip. As I picked her up, blood splattered on the floor. I hustled her into the kitchen and hissed at Lou to sit on the living room couch. She had bitten up her bottom lip (I thought at first glance that we'd have to make a trip to the emergency room for stitches). Once she'd had some Motrin and Archie and I wiped up the blood on her face and hands (and everyone admired the gore on my sweatshirt), things looked a little better. But, ow. Poor baby. She passed out on the family room floor shortly after sitting on my lap and saying, so very sadly, "Louisa pushed me and I bit my lip and it was bloody. It was terrible, Mama!"

I guess we had a little more rodeo than slug around these parts, today.

i wish i had plumbing knowledge.

We got our first quote to fix the plumbing problem and it was $7K. We got our second quote today -- a smidge over $3K. Is the first one what it will cost and the second guy is just a loser? Or is the first guy scamming us for lots of extra cash and the second plumber an ethical operator who is making a small profit, but not trying to gouge us?

Who knows. We're getting another estimate or two and then probably going with the cheapest. And then we will all pray that the plumbing never does this again.

rain, rain, go away.

But it won't go away. The rain, that is. It is now officially winter because the rain is here to stay. I hate winter in California. It just doesn't feel very winter-y. I crave snow and actual, real cold.

In other news, I have been called a bad mother by my kids. One of their friends had a birthday party on Sunday and guess who forgot? That would be me. And every day I've been reminded that we forgot Nikki's birthday and we didn't get to go to the party and oh, the sadness. The misery.

Bebe and Lulu have become real readers. This makes me so happy. A few weeks ago, we bought the latest Lemony Snicket book and Lou was wondering if she could possibly read the series. I thought the sentence structure alone was too complex for a six year old -- all the rambling and description. But I said she could try. And she started with the first book. I would occasionally ask her what was going on, plotwise, and she could tell me. Also, she would giggle and come to me to point out a joke. I was very impressed. She's on the fourth book and Bebe has started the first one. All the girls go to bed at the same time (and share a room), but I'm letting the big girls read in bed for a bit after smooches and squeezes. They love it. Santa's bringing some book lights, I think. Lou is borrowing Archie's and Elizabee stretches out by the door and reads by the hallway light. I think they'll be thrilled to have their own reading lights.