Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Swimming in Quotable Quotes

Remember "Quotable Quotes"? From Reader's Digest? A page full of pithy and memorable quotations from famous people, to inspire, enlighten and amuse the reader. My girls are unbelievably quotable.

Small One keeps me giggling. Today at lunch, for instance, she said, while eating a BLT, "I like bacon. But I don't like monsters." This was good to know, but not so surprising- we've discussed monsters once already this week. That conversation went like this:

Small: Do bad guys eat people?

Me: Not typically. (hey, I try to be honest!)

Small:Do bad guys GET people? (makes grabbing motion with her hands)

Me: Yes, actually there are some bad guys who get little girls and take them away from their mamas, which is why you need to mind your Mama and stay with me. (I figure there's never a bad time to enforce this concept.)

Small: Ok. But monsters eat people, right? And dinosaurs do?

I guess it's a good idea to keep a running list of creatures that might eat you. Can't be too careful, right?

Sometimes her statements are inexplicable, like the time she asked where her Daddy was, and when I told her he was at work, she asked, in an exasperated tone, "But where's his face?"

I told her that I sincerely hoped his face was WITH him, or it might be off-putting to the other people at work.

Middle Child, though, is the Queen of the quotable. We've been having a tussle with her again, over her unwillingness to participate in anything that doesn't have to do with her friends, makeup, hair, clothing, facebook account, or ipod... including her schoolwork. Her grades are a good indicator of this unwilling attitude, and she's currently grounded, pending improvement. This situation, to her way of thinking, is entirely unjust, because (gear up now, quotable quote number one is coming)...

"Going to school is my gift to you."

Seriously? Going to school is her gift to ME? I hope she kept the receipt, because this is a crappy gift. If I were going to request someone's schooling as my particular present, I'd put on my request list at least ONE passing grade other than P.E., and possibly the added accessory of occasionally completed homework. But then again, she also said to me (quotable two!)...

"I don't really care about my grades- that's YOUR deal."

MY deal? Her grades are MY deal? Good grief, I wasn't a fan of highschool the first time around, I'm certainly not fascinated by it now, I just want her to get through it. (number three is coming, look out!)

"I brought my world history grade UP," she pointed out, with an injured air, "but I guess you just choose not to NOTICE that!"

Er... yes, I noticed, but to bring your grade up from abysmal to abysmal + 1 point does not really earn you accolades.

The Homecoming dance is the first major event she has missed because of the grade situation. I honestly don't think she believed I'd go through with it, as she presented me with roughly six million, three hundred thirty two thousand, eight hundred and twelve reasons that she should go, nay, verily, NEEDED to go, and when I still declined to allow it she said, (are you ready for number four?)

"I'm really losing respect for you, now that I see the lengths to which you will go to destroy a person."

That one made me laugh. It still makes me giggle, every time I think about it. Destroy a person? Seriously? I will bet that many of you readers who are of a certain age... my peers and those a little older, will recall a time when bringing home a dismal report card was a terrifying experience, because we were pretty sure our parents would literally destroy us. (Think Merry Old England, with the tower, and the decapitation, and the drawing and quartering and the heads on stakes and all that. ) Yeah, missing a dance will not destroy you, I'm only hoping it does not actually make you stronger.

This week's challenge? Halloween. M.C. has to have all her schoolwork turned in or she won't be allowed out of the house. I'm thinking this may be the Halloween that I actually get to witness someone turning into a werewolf or similarly terrifying beast.

Wish me luck! And while you're wishing things for me, I'll leave you with another of Small One's quotables. The Man was giving her a bath, and I was out for a walk. When I came in, I went to wash my hands, and my precious little girl turned to me and said,

"You look like a __" (undecipherable word)

I asked her to repeat, as I hadn't understood.

"I think you look like a ehhh!" she repeated, a little more emphatically.

When I still didn't get it, she clarified.

"A EGG," she said, "like Humpty Dumpty. Do you remember Humpty Dumpty?"

Ahh, yes, an EGG. Yes, dear Small, I remember Humpty Dumpty, though it has never been my aim to resemble him.

{Sigh}. They say kids keep you young... I'd add that they also keep you humble. And, of course, supplied with endless quotes, and points to ponder, though that's another Reader's Digest section entirely.

Friday, October 9, 2009

So far so good!

Wednesday night closed the first week of my 101 day project. I meant to blog about it on Thursday, but Thursday was just the kind of day where blogging is not something that happens.

Here's something that happened, though: we were late. I mean, the kind of late that happens because the whole morning just doesn't work the way it should, the kind of late where the kid misses music class and you're late for your doctor's appointment. That kind of "I need a time machine" sort of late. On the way out the door, as I was cleaning out Small One's backpack, which I should've done two days earlier, I found a note from the teacher, asking me to send in a picture of something orange. I frantically scanned the room, looking for a catalog or flyer with perhaps a pumpkin... but no, I've been merciless about throwing things out lately, so there was no such item to be found.

I spotted the "Pin the Nose on the Elmo" game, which we've left up since the birthday party, because Small still plays with it. Elmo noses are orange! Better than a picture. Yes, folks, I took a laminated, egg shaped piece of orange construction paper to school, and smilingly told the teachers it's an Elmo nose. I'm pretty sure they already think I'm a little crazy after the beet juice cupcake thing anyway, so it's all good.

On the way home, Small One wailed "I FORGOT MY..." and the word sounded like "emino". Thinking she was doing that charming consonant swap little ones often do with the word animal, I asked "What kind of animal, Sweetie?".

She looked at me like I was as dumb as a box of rocks. "My ELMO NOSE." Ahhhhhh. No, that's ok, we were supposed to leave it.

So anyway, that's the kind of day it continued to be, and by the end of it I did not have the wherewithal to do a detailed 101 things update. But here goes:

Overall, I'd say it's going well! With the exception of one night that I stayed up late and one night that I forgot to say prayers with Small, I did all the daily and weekly stuff pretty well. In addition, we went to a festival and tried a new wine. (Not at the same time, though!) Family devotionals have not been going as well as I'd hoped, primarily because of illness and busy-ness in the family, but the Man and I have been doing them most nights with the Small One. So all in all, I'd say it's off to a good start.

I did try a new recipe, and it was YUM, but I did it last night, so it doesn't really count as the first week. I'll post it anyway:

Corn Dog Muffins:

Mix together: one box of cornbread mix (I used Martha White, but whatever), 1/2 can of creamed corn, and two chopped up hotdogs. Put into muffin cups, and bake at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes. BIG hit with the preschooler, and I liked it too, though next time I'm doubling the hot dogs. Makes 9 muffins! How easy is that?

Anyway, on to week two, with high hopes!

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Parent I Want to Be

I have a book in my possession, entitled "Becoming the Parent you Want to Be".

I looked at that book tonight, glass of wine in hand, and wondered to myself...

Is there a chapter in that book that tells you how to be the parent lying on a beach somewhere being tended by cabana boys whilst sipping something fruity, while your precious little darlings are elsewhere, being cared for by someone who currently likes them better than you do?

No? Then that stupid book CLEARLY does not know the parent I want to be right now.