Morgan, Age 8

This morning I asked Morgan if she felt any different now that she is eight.  She said she thought her legs seemed a little longer.  Oh, dream on, my little vertically challenged gene pool.

I feel like Morgan did a lot of "growing up" this year.  And I'm a little worried that those quotable gems that only come in the formative years are going to come fewer and farther between for her.  But instead of dwelling on the loss of innocence, I'm going to try very hard to appreciate the fact that she's getting smarter than me.  And since she hasn't asked for a training bra yet, I'm marking this year in the "win" column.


Here are Morgan's favorite things - Age 8 (AKA the year technology threw up in my house).

Best Friend: Annie
Movie: Oz, The Great and Powerful (good things we saw it yesterday)
TV Show: Ocean Girl and H2O 
Toy:  Pooh Bear and Beluga
Book:  The books you made of pictures of vacation.
Color: Emerald
Song: I Believe (from Mirror, Mirror)
Food:  Ribs and meat (that's my girl)
Dessert: Frozen banana with chocolate over it  (that's Scott's girl)
Thing to do as a family: Play games
Thing about Zoe: I like her personality
Thing about Mommy: Because you're my mom (so basically she has to like me)
Thing about Daddy:  Because he's funny
Things about Thea's (sitter):  Playing with my friends and hanging out with her

What do you want to be when you grow up?  Artist that just does stuff at home.  And then a teacher that does stuff at school.  But I don't want to be an art teacher.  I just want to do art in my free time.  (What is this "free time" you speak of?)

The Dog, the Leprechaun, and the Wardrobe

Our girls pretty much had the opposite reactions than I would have expected to our dog passing this winter.  Morgan and Potter had always just occupied the same space, where Zoe was all about giving him treats and laying on top of him like a throw rug.

So I was a little shocked at how inconsolable Morgan was when we told her. And she was prone to bouts of melancholy for at least a couple weeks afterward.  Even today, she told me she misses seeing him in the back hallway when she goes to get her coat.  Zoe, on the other hand, simply asked if we were going to get a new dog that day and name it Potter.

Now Morgan is ready for another Saint Bernard, which I'm somewhat opposed to.  I know plenty of people that are loyal to a certain breed, but I have a hard time "replacing" my pets.  I could also never have another Collie, which is the dog I grew up with. Scott, however, I think will be easily persuaded to get a Saint Bernard as long as it is a short haired variety.  I'm thinking of giving the girls the option of two greyhounds vs. one St. Bernard in the hopes that having their "own" will lean them in the other direction.

Just this weekend, I had the following conversation with Morgan after leaving a house that recently got two new dogs.

"I think we should get another Saint Bernard.  Or maybe a Bulldog.  I like those.  And if it was a French Bulldog it could wear a beret.  Or if it was an artist Saint Bernard it could wear a beret, too."

"Do you know a lot of artist Saint Bernards?"

"No.  But Potter was pretty messy and that is kind of like being an artist.  And then we could get him a little coat that has paint splatters on it, like painters wear."

Why do I have the feeling that I am going to end up with another Saint Bernard?

* * *

Morgan recently spent an afternoon at the Nature Center learning about the Wonders of Water, during which they must have talked about rainbows, which coincidentally lines up nicely with the skit she has been writing with a group from school around throwing a birthday party for Roy G. Biv.

"Do you think the first person to discover a rainbow was surprised to see indigo?  I wonder who discovered the first rainbow.  I bet it was a leprechaun."

Of course it was.

* * *

Me:  We need to go to Target for some cleaning supplies and I need a Valentine's Day card for Daddy.
Morgan:  I am GREAT at picking Valentine's Day cards for Dad.  I think we should get one with a dog in a swim suit...no, a dog in a bikini...a dog in a pink and red bikini.  Because adults have a good sense of humor.   You just need to get it out of them.

* * *

One of our major Storage Wars projects is coming to a close.  This would be a corner hutch that has been installed in our living room.  When Zoe asked Scott what it was, he told her it was something like a wardrobe and then convinced her when he was done, he would make it magical and it could take her to Narnia.

So for the past few days, Zoe has been asking Scott when he's going to put the magic in it and he told her she needed to wait for the face plate he was going to install over what used to be a hole for a light switch.  He then went to Thing Remembered and got the plate engraved with the words "To Narnia".  It looks pretty cool.

Guess who is not happy?  A little girl who put herself inside a wardrobe and stepped right back out into the living room.  I do have her sold on the fact that the wardrobe only works if Aslan needs her to come to Narnia, but that she can pretend it takes her there instead.

She tries the wardrobe every day.  I think I'm going to lock her in there for a while and then redecorate the living room to look like the lamppost in the woods.

Sidebar:  When you spill some of the rustoleum paint you are using to clean up the radiator cover on your finger tips, you should not try to quickly get it off by scrubbing your hands with soap and water in the sink.  This only spreads oil-based paint over BOTH of your entire hands.  Also, be sure that you actually have paint thinner or turpentine on hand when using oil-based paint and not assume that you are not going to spill paint on your hands.  Also, nail polish remover would have worked if you had more than an amount to soak one cotton ball.  Also, your hands may look a little "red" after you pour a substance called "Oops" directly on them.

Red Flags

I feel like I’ve been holding back on some of the “Kids Say the Darndest Things” moments we’ve had recently, but honestly…my memory has been for shit lately. They say something and I think “I have to blog that.” And then five minutes later it’s gone.

Just like those Jimmy Dean Pancake & Sausage on a stick microwave breakfasts that I should have NEVER tasted.

Morgan: I’m lucky to have you as my mom.
Mom: Well, that’s a very kind thing to say. I’m lucky that I have such a kind daughter.
Morgan: Well, sometimes I’m not very nice at Thea’s to Zoe.
Mom: I think it’s hard for sisters to be nice to each other all the time.
Morgan: Especially little sisters and big sisters. Do you think big sisters are mean to little brothers?

Red Flag: My kid is becoming a suck up.

Zoe: I had a dream last night that I went looking and found a monster with a green face.
Mommy: Was it a mean monster?
Zoe: Yes, he had fire in his hands and he blew Barbie’s head off. But then it was okay because I just went to the basement with Megan.
Mommy: Who’s Megan?
Zoe: Big Megan.
Mommy: Ben and Gabe’s Megan?
Zoe: Yes.

I actually didn’t confirm whether she was talking about one of her Barbie dolls or if she meant my soon-to-be Sister In Law Barbi. I’m going with the doll.

Red Flag: My kids are still calling my step nieces by this inaccurate modifier. How many times do I have to tell them their last name is Jones?

Morgan: I can’t wait until I’m done with college.
Parents: Why exactly?
Morgan: Well, there are two reasons. One is that it means I won’t ever have to go to school again. And two, it means I can start my home job.
Mom: What’s a home job?
Morgan: If I just make art, I can do that from my house and never have to leave it.

Red Flag: If she doesn’t become a Marine Biologist, there go my reduced-priced tickets to Sea World.

Zoe has invented a game called “I Love You Much More Than…” and we take turns coming up with silly things to end that sentence. No kidding, she made that shit up all by herself. Items include: toothbrushes, shoelaces, fans, Potter slobber, flip flops, shower curtains….you get the point.

Red Flag: How long before she changes the game to “I Hate You Much More Than…”

Donde esta el bano?

OR Norcross Vacation 2012– Part 1

A note about the title. I was trying to think of how to say “Where are you from?” but my college German overrode my high school Spanish. And while I tried several times to transport my brain to Mr. Volzer’s (Aye Carramba!) first period classroom, I did not attempt to Google it.
All I could come up with was “Donde esta el bano?” which I learned from watching 80’s sitcoms.

Specifically, an episode of Who’s the Boss? where Tony is trying to teach the family useful phrases en route to some resort in Mexico. Obviously, Angela scoffs at this. She is a high-powered female business executive with no need for conversational Spanish. Until you see their airport taxi pulling into the resort and Angela jumping from the car and running to the first person she sees.

“Donde….esta…….?”

“EL BANO, Angela, EL BANO!” Tony is just so damn helpful.

In related news, thanks to Dora, my kids said “Gracias” to the café worker in Mexico. See, Dad, television is NOT why the Japanese are ahead of us.

I have a point.

It’s not about Spanish.

Several times on the cruise we were asked where we were from. Of these times, at least 50% of the questions come from people who were obviously not from the US. (Including the cutest older Australian couple, who loved our kids.)

However, my standard, non-thinking response was always “Ohio”. This makes me cringe and the reasons are twofold.

First off, ever notice in TV shows when the main characters run into out-of-towners that seem just a little off – maybe they are stuck in the 80s, or maybe they are naïve, or maybe they lack basic vocabulary skills – they always end up saying they are from Ohio. Why all the hate for Ohio? What about Idaho? Or Iowa? What about KANSAS!? I know there are some hick people out there.

More importantly, perhaps, why should I expect someone from a different country to know Ohio? I don’t even know all the provinces in CANADA for god’s sake, and there’s not that many of them.

Don’t ask me to tell you what all the countries in Eastern Europe and Africa are. I could probably guess the majority of South America. Brazil’s the big one, right? (Hmmm, maybe television IS the reason the Japanese are ahead of us.)

The point being, after I say it, I feel like a complete douche bag Ugly American. What do mean you don’t know where Ohio is? Don’t you watch Glee or reruns of The Drew Carey Show?

Not that any of them admitted to not knowing where Ohio was, by the way. I should probably give them credit for having moderately superior geography skills than me. I mean, they are the ones speaking two languages without relying on Who’s the Boss? trivia.

Speaking of being lost…did I mention we lost our kids on the cruise? I guess if you are going to give your kids a practical survival scenario for getting lost, a cruise ship is the place to do it.  They can’t get far, kidnapping is out of the question, and the clientele that can afford the cruise are less likely to be homicidal maniacs (or maybe more likely, not sure).

Anyway…we were up on Deck 16. Nana and Papa had already headed back to the room and everyone else was gathering their things. Morgan told us she had to go down to 15 for her flip flops.

I keep gathering our things and look up to notice Zoe is no longer standing next to us. I look down and see Morgan picking up her flip flops, but no Zoe. Okay…walk quickly towards the doors that lead to the elevator lobby and reach them just as she pops back out.

Fortunately, Uncle J had come out of the restroom right as she was walking by and asked her where she was going. She informed him that she was following Morgan, but he didn’t see Morgan anywhere, so brought Zoe back with him. Phew.

Look back over the edge again. No Morgan. Jesus Christ!

Honestly, my first thought was that she went back to the room. From Day 1, they had figured out what floor our room was on, which door it was, and how to use their Sea Pass to get in. Unfortunately, her Sea Pass was still in my beach bag, so I wasn’t sure what she would do once she got there and no one let her in.

Scott headed back to the room, while the rest of us did random sweeps around the two decks. What felt like an hour later, Scott shows back up with Morgan in tow. She had gone to the room and was working her way back down the hall when he found her.

Yeah, new rule. Sea Pass on, unless you are IN the pool.

And speaking of worst case scenario…a man missing his leg goes by while we are lounging one morning.

Zoe: Why is his leg missing?
Nana: Maybe he had an accident or was sick.
Zoe: No, I think he was in a shark tank and it got bit off.

To be continued….

Serenity Now

I’m a little concerned at the apparent absence of short-term memory in my children. Did I drop them on their heads too many times? Should I not have let them eat paint chips?

Is it normal for them to not remember something I told them exactly 3.7 seconds ago?

Typical weekend:

Where are we going? When are we going there? What time are we leaving? Where else are we going? How long till we leave for Nana’s? Which Nana? Do I have to wear a coat? Where are we going before Nana’s? Is Daddy coming with us? Where are we going after Nana’s? Will Whitney be at Nana’s? Why is there air? How many places do we have to go to today? Why are we going to the store? Why are we going to Nana’s? Which Nana? Where are we going and what time will we get there? Can I take my baby?

Rewind to five minutes prior to the first question:

“In twenty minutes we are going to all the leave the house together. First we have to stop at the store to pick up dog food. Then we will go to the gas station. Then, and only then, we will drive to Nana “Sid and Leo”’s to color Easter eggs. Uncle John, Barbi and Whitney will be there, too.”

I have never known two individuals more concerned with time, yet have no idea how to read a clock, nor understand the concept of how 11 AM differs from 3 PM. It’s best to stick with “before lunch” and “after lunch”.

Also...there is a shocking lack of curiosity for where the “Papa”s fit in this picture.

Maybe, you are saying to yourself, I gave them too much information to process.

Yesterday morning:

“My iPod is out of batteries. We have to listen to the radio”

“Can you put on Lemonade Mouth?”

“No, that’s on my iPod.”

“Can you play the “kiss me on my shoulder” song?”

“No, that’s on my iPod.”

“Do you have the ANT Farm songs?”

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DIDN’T BRING MY IPOD! I AM NOT TAKING REQUESTS!”

A few minutes of bliss while the radio station plays songs at random.

“Can you play the Muppets now?”

“The next person that asks me to play something that is on my iPod will lose their hearing for all eternity.” (I didn’t say this. I am not THAT mean.)

Thankfully a song comes on the radio that they know and can sing along with. Unfortunately, this song actually ends.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“Can you play that song again?

Fuck. Me.

Queen of Mean

Sometimes when I get in the shower, it's fun to start counting to myself to see how long it will take for one of the girls to come ask me for something.

This morning's example...potentially 7.8 seconds in, but that's just rounding.

Morgan: Mom, Zoe and I bumped heads.
Zoe: And I bumped my forehead.
Me: Seeing as you are both standing here in this room talking to me, and neither of you is actually crying, I think you will live and this was a perfectly pointless conversation.

See, I can't even stand being interupted when I'm doing something I don't like (dishes, exercising, laundry). So interrupting something enjoyable probably causes the sarcasm gene to rear its ugly head pretty damn quick.

Sometimes when I'm home by myself I stand in the shower for 30 minutes, regardless of whether I need one. Silence is golden. (Until I start singing show tunes, that is.)

Here are some of the more common shower interuptions and my responses, ranging from mild to Evil Queen depending on how many times I have been asked the question that day.

"I'm thirsty."

• Do you see the sink and drinking cup behind you, or did it disappear?


• Stick your head in the shower and open your mouth.


• Go check Potter's water dish. (I would actually never use this one on Zoe, because there is a 75% chance she would take me up on it.)


• I guess you will just dehydrate then.

"Do you know where my _________ is?"

• Where did you leave it? (I think this one is actually kind of helpful.)


• No.


• Pretend I'm dead...what would you do?


• No, but when I find it, I'm going to throw it in the trash.

"Zoe/Morgan has done something mildly annoying, but I'm going to act like it is the end of the world and wish she had never been born."

• Go to your room. (That's it. Tattling is almost worse than interupting.)

Morgan's Thought On...

...Planned Parenthood

Me: Uncle John had some big news today. Zoe, do you want to tell Morgan?

Morgan: DID BUTTERSCOTCH HAVE BABIES??? (Capital letters is the only way I can convey the amount of excitement that was exhibited for potential Welsh Giant Rabbit babies, which would probably cause Papa SidLeo to have kittens of his own considering said rabbit is located on his property.)

Me: Noooo.

Zoe: Uncle John is going to marry Barbi.

Morgan: Oh. That’s nice. (Not quite so exciting though…notice the lack of capital letters. ) So she’ll be Whitney’s mom and Aunt Jeanna will be her step-mom.

Me: Umm, no. Aunt Jeanna stays Whitney’s mom. Barbi will be her step mom.

Morgan: Well that’s good for Whitney, because she is a nice and pretty step mom.

So there you go.

...The Buddy System

Me: Remember to never leave your group today while you are on your field trip.

Morgan: We will probably get a buddy.

Me: Yes, you probably will, but that means you AND your buddy should not leave your group.

Morgan: Then I better find a buddy that’s trustable.

I will pause for Will-Ferrell-as-George-Bush laughter.

...More Puppy Love

(After Morgan tells me she can’t sit with her one friend at lunch, because she has to sit with her class)

Me: So who do you usually sit with then?

Morgan: Adam

This…from the “shy” girl. In my day, I just tossed the chocolate milk that my mother gave me a quarter to buy on Aaron Mahilo’s lunch table and hoped that he grabbed it before any of his friends did. It was all very nonchalant. But I was in fifth grade then, much more mature.

Puppy Love

Morgan: So my friend Nina told Adam that I sort of had a crush on him and now I am bummed.

Me: Why are you "bummed"? (When did she become a teenager from The Valley?)

Morgan: Because now I am too embarrassed to talk to him ever again.

Me: Well, I don't think you need to be embarrassed.

Morgan: Mom, I'm done with it.

60 seconds later...

Morgan: Do you know why I like Adam?

Me: Why?

Morgan: Because he is nice and funny and kind and loving and sharing. (Oh yeah, she's got it bad.)

Me: Well, he sounds very nice. I think it's okay for you to still like him.

Morgan: And do you know why else I like him? When I ask him a question he talks back to me. Not in a mean way. I just mean that he answers my question. I think that is nice. But now I don't think he will answer me anymore.

Dear Morgan,

Boys suck. The ones you like, like someone else. In elementary school, it is probably the girl that punches them. In junior high, I regret to inform you it is the girl with the biggest boobs. In high school, it's whoever is the most popular. I suggest you stick with punching them until you turn 18.

The ones you don't like will most likely sneak attack you when you are at your locker and ask you to every dance ever created by the girls that actually get asked by the boys they like. I hope you can let them down easy by remembering what it is like on the other side, but if you do...he will still probably ask you for every slow dance and you will have to hide in a bathroom stall the majority of the time. Hiding in the bathroom stall will most likely prevent you from being asked to dance by the boy you DO like.

Unfortunately, you don't have an older brother that might have kind friends that take pity on you. On the bright side, this will not lead you to have completely hopeless crushes on football players that call you "Chuck's little sister."

With deepest sympathy,

Your Mother

Voted Most Likely to Remain Awkward

AKA "To a smart and funny girl"

P.S. If by some chance you are the popular girl. Please use your powers for good instead of evil.

How to Cook a Turkey

Morgan's first grade class was given the assignment to write directions for cooking a turkey.

The instructions also state they should include a list of ingredients, oven temperature and time; but clearly Morgan felt those things to be less than important. Obviously the ingredient is one turkey and a hot oven until it is done.

It is also clear that Morgan finds vowels optional.

1. The frst thing to shoot a trcey.
(Should I be worried that she was able to spell the word "shoot" correctly?)

2. then you rost a trcey
(I should warn those of you that have stumbled onto this blog because you actually want to know how to cook a turkey that there are actually several steps between 1 and 2, so maybe consult another source.)

3. then we tac it owt of the uvin
(That is how oven should be spelled. The English language makes no sense! Also, when I read the word owt, I wondered if the turkey got hurt by the tac.)

4. then we put it on the chray
(Chray makes total sense, as well. Ugh! No wonder our kids are illiterate.)

5. then we srv it to my famle.
(Just in case you were planning on using it as a decoration instead.)

Curtsy While You're Thinking. It Saves Time.

SIDEBAR

The best part of waking up at three in the morning because your little one needs a drink is realizing that you still have three more hours to sleep. The worst part? WAKING UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING!

REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

I feel like the month of November should be relaxing. I will be taking down the Halloween decorations today. I’m not in charge of anything pertaining to Thanksgiving other than showing up. I only have the following obligations:

Taking the girls to see The Wizard of Oz play.

2 ECPTA field trips with Zoe (including a tour of Heinen’s – so she can show everyone where the bathroom is – and a tour of Chick Fil A – her FAVORITE place to eat! Holla!)

ECPTA General Meeting, ECPTA Board Meeting, ECPTA State of the Homes Tour Meeting, ECPTA Girls Night, PTA Scholarship Auction, ECPTA Adult Outing Beer Tasting.

Oh and I also have to volunteer for the no-fun PTA (elementary school) at the Book Fair.

And then there is a Relay for Life Captains/Committee meeting. Which I’m only attending because I’m the co-captain of the ECPTA’s team.

Yeah…written out like that, my life is very sad.

Also, I must take the girls to see The Muppet Movie. I totally screwed Morgan over on A Dolphin Tale, because we knew Zoe couldn’t sit through it.

SEEN AND HEARD

In the car

Zoe: Do we have robots in our tummies for when our brains don’t work?

Mommy: I wish.

On my facebook wall

Michelle: I totally just headbutted you but...Tim [our cab driver] is wearing stretch pants!!!!

(I promise, we were drunk, but that might be my favorite quote ever!)

Zoe had a bad cold and wasn’t quite up to trick-or-treating

Morgan: I promise you can have some of my candy, Zoe.

(Not sure I will ever hear something like that again, so it needs to be recorded for posterity.)

Mirror, Mirror

I debated writing this until I watched Grimm on Friday, but what the hell…

I’m not sure why the big and small screens have suddenly found their way into my backyard, but I’m not complaining. Yet. Welcome to my world.

Yes, I want to live in a fairy tale. A dark and twisted fairy tale. Preferably one with tuff (Outsiders’ spelling) princesses and slightly flawed princes that happen to be either ruggedly good-looking or boyishly charming. Take your pick.

The rest you of may not have noticed yet how popular the brothers Grimm have been getting. It must be a sad, lonely place out there for you.

I tried re-capping Once Upon a Time about FIVE times, but I can’t do it. I’m not a re-capper. Visit Entertainment Weekly or something.

I like it. It’s not too sunny, but my girls still liked it, if only because they loved Snow White and the little boy Henry who is the only one that has figured out the curse. Also, they were intrigued by the Evil Queen and Rumplestilskin without being completely afraid of them at this time. (There may have been some eye-closing when the queen’s black knights came to steal the baby.)

The fantasy-world is in between HBO and SyFy quality, which I think is pretty impressive for network to invest in. The creators say that it’s going to focus on more than the Snow/Charming story, and as Henry flipped through his fairy tale book, I did notice a picture of a certain caterpillar sitting on a mushroom. I can only hope, but I do know that we will at least meet Cinderella fairly soon.

Favorite supporting characters thus far are Red Riding Hood and the sherriff, only because in my head I think he is the huntsman and should be Emma’s side kick. (Emma being Snow White’s grown up child in the real world that is going to save them all.)

On a way darker side…Grimm starts on Friday, which proposes the original brothers and their descendants hunt down mythical baddies hiding in our world that only they can see. Girls will not be watching this one, but I’m practically salivating because it’s from teams Buffy and Angel. As Zoe would say…”HOLLLA!” (Yes, we watch too much Shake It Up.)

In 2012, there are going to be TWO…not one, TWO…Snow White movies.

The first one is still showing up on IMDB as the “Untitled Snow White Project”. Considering this movie is in post-production, don’t you think it’s about time SOMEBODY came up with a title for it?

It’s going to win someone a wardrobe Oscar, but I’m not sure about anything else. It’s very over the top with the gowns. Apparently, Julia Roberts (as the queen) can’t even take a couple steps in some of the get ups they put her in. Visually very appealing in the stills I have seen.

On the other hand, Snow White and The Huntsman…

I’ve been keeping my eye on this one for a LONG time. First off, it was originally just named The Huntsman and had Chris Helmsworth (Thor) in the title role. Reason alone for me to keep my eye on it. Or both of them.

Basically, when he takes Snow to the forest, instead of just leaving her to find the dwarves he becomes her mentor and teaches her how to be some kind of medieval warrior to come back and kick the queen’s ass.

Here’s the flaw with this movie, and it’s a damn big flaw if you ask me. Kristin Stewart is Snow White. UGHHHHH! I don’t know if her Twilight fame is what got them to change the title of this movie, but I DO NOT approve. Do you hear me, Stewart? Acting requires you to become a different character, not make all your characters act like you.

I would much rather she swap with the newcomer Lily Collins who plays the Snow White in the Julia Robert’s one.

In non-Snow White news…

I got a new version of parental anxiety when Morgan asked me if I thought her Halloween costume was weird. Apparently, at a party she went to, some kids kept asking her why she was a crayon and chased her because they wanted to write with her. Oy.

One, I honestly don’t think the kids were being mean, I think they thought they were being funny. Two, Morgan is uber-sensitive.

But it was all I could do to resist my urge to crack some skulls. I am not very over-protective when it comes to physical activity, but my mind starts kicking it into high-gear if I think someone or something is making my kids feel bad about themselves.

I have a feeling Scott is the same way, since his first reaction on my relaying this story is to say that he will go buy her a new costume if she wants one. Which I get, but she LIKES her costume. She didn’t think it was weird until someone questioned her and quite frankly it’s NOT weird. It’s a fucking crayon.

So I take a breath and say, “Next time someone asks why you are a crayon, just ask them why they are a princess or a pirate or whatever they are. I like your costume.” This seemed to satisfy her.

I will now be attending the school’s Halloween parade, which I was going to skip. I just absolutely cannot NOT be there. Wrong?

One Act Play by Morgan N.

Overheard at the Fisher Price Little People barn this weekend:

Meddling Neighbor: Hello, there. Why are you keeping your baby in a stall?
New Age Mother/Organic Free Range Chicken Farmer: Oh, he keeps that stall very clean. There are never any spiders in it. So it is perfectly fine for him.

(I cannot make this shit up.)

This is how I imagine the scenario playing out.

The close-minded, interfering neighbor (somewhat resembling a goat) immediately calls children's services who arrive a few hours later. Despite the obvious fact that the stall is diligently kept free from any household pests, including the most horrid of arachnids, the infant is immediately seized and placed into protective custody.

The single mother does not have the financial wherewithal to hire legal representation, so the court assigns her case to a lackluster attorney, currently under a community service arrangement to prevent himself from being disbarred. He shows up to the hearing wearing beach gear and carrying a bunny.

The mother makes a desperate attempt to explain how her communal living arrangement with all creatures great and small would be a benefit to any child, teaching circle of life; reduce, reuse, recycle; and the advantages of compost. However, the state prosecutor enters Exhibit A - a picture of the infant covered in mud, holding an ax over the head of free range chicken.

The child is placed in foster care and later becomes entrenched in the punk scene. He spends all the money he makes from selling drugs to provide further detail to his full-body tattoo of a spiderweb.

The farm and mother fall into disrepair. Eventually, she is seen eating from the pig trough and the rest of the farm animals have to clean up after her.

The neighbor is eventually found decomposing in an empty grain silo. She appeared to have her eyes pecked out by chickens.

Sophie's Choice and Almost Famous

Spohie’s Choice

I’ve actually never seen the movie, so I’m not entirely sure what choice they are referring to, but imagine if you will…(Editor's note: As I'm posting this, Sophie's Choice came on the TV, how weird is that? FYI - About sending kids to concentration camps.)

A young mother in a war-torn middle eastern country is told by her embassy that she must be evacuated to a nearby peaceful area, but she can only take one of her two young children with her. The other child must stay under the watch of the heavily guarded and super-qualified embassy staff. But still, someone could bomb the embassy at any time, right?

Me: Meredith’s mom is picking you up at school to take you for ice cream with your Daisy troop tomorrow.
Morgan: Yay!
Me: Then she’s going to bring you back to their house to play until I get home from work.
Morgan: (pause) What about Pooh Bear Blanket and Beluga? Where will they be?
Me: At home, I guess, since you won’t go to Thea’s after school. (She usually takes them to Thea’s and dumps them in the hallway before catching the bus and picks them up again when it is time for us to go home.)
Morgan: (tears starting to form) But…but…
Me: Morgan, you don’t have them all day at school, and you don’t even play with them at Thea’s, so this is no different.
Morgan: But couldn’t I take them in my backpack just this once?
Me: They won’t both fit in your backpack. I guess you can take one.
Morgan: (gasp) But which one?
Me: I don’t care. (Because I just can’t get past the fact that she DOESN'T PLAY WITH THEM!)

In the morning Morgan quietly gets dressed and asks me again through many tears if she can’t somehow take both of them. To which I become mean Mommy and tell her that I’m not going to let her take either of them outside the house ever again if she doesn’t get over it.

Well, actually, I think I was pretty reasonable. I told her it was okay that she was sad, but she had until we left the house to calm down and stop worrying about it. She decides that Beluga will make the trip in her backpack.

I continue to get us ready to go and come downstairs to find Zoe standing with Pooh Bear Blanket lovingly clutched in her arms. Morgan is smiling.

Morgan: (in her Little Miss Innocent voice) Zoe promised to take care of Pooh Bear Blanket today, so she is going to take him to Thea’s. Thank you, Zoe.
Zoe, The Enabler: (clearing proud of her responsibility) You’re welcome, Morgan.

Basically, I give up.

* * *

"Rockstars have kidnapped my son!" - Almost Famous

I may have overdone it a bit at the clambake on Saturday. That might have been obvious by my facebook status updates.

Needless to say, Sunday morning came a little too early for me, despite the fact that the girls seemed to be sleeping in.

Around 7 a.m. I hear Zoe starting to stir. In a quiet voice, I hear, "Morgan, it's morning time. Wake up, Morgan. It's morning time."

Ten minutes later Morgan gets up to use the bathroom and Zoe comes in to our room. "Mommy, I have to go potty, too. Oh, nevermind Mom, I will use my little potty. You stay in bed."

"Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

(Note: We have a training potty that doubles as the sink stool so they can reach to brush their teeth. So even though she doesn't need the training potty, it is still present. A fact I was very much thankful for.)

Then I hear Morgan help her empty the training potty into the regular toilet. WHAT?

Next there is a an opening and shutting of dresser drawers, the padding of little feet, and she appears again. "I picked out my clothes, Mommy."

In her hand is a tank top and shorts, but they MATCH, by god! I say, "I think we need to wear something nicer to Sunday school, okay? I'll help you."

I decide if she is going to be helpful Zoe, I better take advantage.

Ballet: A Year in Review

Author's Note: I apologize for the length, but I wanted something to look back on to remember these days. And since there are days I can't remember my own age, I can't leave it to chance.


At the end of last summer, Morgan asked if she could take ballet. So I got all the information from the local dance studio.

Despite the fact that they seemed to be pretty strict about their dress code (must be in pink leotard, pink skirt, pink tights and pink shoes – hair in tight bun with no whispies), I had heard good things about the instructors and how much fun the year-end recital is.

Morgan balked at the bun, but I assured her that a bun would keep her hair from getting tangled just as well as braids do. Because, god forbid, your hair gets tangled. Ever.

I had the choice of signing her up for the 4-5 year old class or the 5-7 year olds. Since she had never taken dance and there was a very convenient class time on my day off, I signed her up for the former.

During registration, Morgan spots a table with trophies on it and comes to the conclusion that she is going to get one, so well worth the agony of putting her hair in a bun. ($20 Registration Fee and $45/month Lessons)

Next comes a trip to Footsteps for gear and a recommendation of how to get that much hair to stay on top of her head. I discover that the manager lives two doors down from us and we have a disagreement over what style of house I live in.

“Oh, you live in the Dutch Colonial.”
“No, it’s just regular Colonial.”
“No, that’s Dutch.”
“No, I don’t think so.”

Yes, this conversation actually took place, but it was really annoying that she wouldn’t admit she was wrong. It’s not f-ing Dutch. I know what Dutch is. ($80 Leotard, tights, skirt, shoes, hairnets)

The first class was in September, and I went with the suggestion of braiding a ponytail, swirling it in a bun-like fashion, wrapping a hairnet over it several times, and then bobby pinning it. Most of the crying came at the beginning, when I was brushing it into the ponytail.

This continued every Wednesday afternoon, until last week.

Our first lesson included two other little girls. One other girl had signed up, but did not arrive. After week two went by with no sight of her, the class should have been cancelled, but our fairy godmother Miss Mary Jo decided she liked having one class with just the three of them. Bonus!

There was also the joy of getting two children motivated to get ready and in the car at 1:35 in the afternoon. Right after lunch. Right before what should be naptime for the little one. Let’s just say there was often yelling involved.

This continued every Wednesday afternoon, until last week.

Mom conversation topics during the lessons included, but were not limited to: How much our daughters hate having their hair in buns, how glad we were to be in such a small class, how much yelling it took to get them to the studio on time, how glad we were to be in such a small class, how none of our daughter’s middle names were Grace, and how glad we were to be in such a small class.

And how many times Maureen’s house suffered from natural disasters.

The first of the year started efforts towards the year-end recital, including ordering costumes. Costume prices were based on your age, so she didn’t even have them picked out yet, but we had to pay for them. And thus began the mystical force of the recital. ($66 Costume)

We are later informed that music chosen is called Breezy Blossom and the three girls will be popping up out of flower pots to start the dance.

I think we all might have cried right then; it sounded so flipping adorable.

Around spring break time the routine is getting practiced and we’re pretty sure there is no way they are going to learn this thing in time, but slowly it comes together and we get to go in and video them, so they can practice at home.

I think we all might have cried right then; it was so flipping adorable.

The e-mails start coming. Instructions, guidelines, rules, proclamations, constitutional amendments. All around this damn recital. And then they hit you.

Order your tickets - $15/each.

Order your pictures - $57 package

Order new tights - $12

Order a DVD - $45 + $8 shipping (okay, so we are totally scamming the DVD thing, but that’s between you and me)

I then realize I might have a major snag and run into the office because my daughter is convinced she’s getting a trophy at the end of this. Thankfully, she was right, so crisis averted. I could just picture myself trying to fashion a new trophy for her out of glitter and duct tape.

More proclamations accompanied by what repercussions could results from not following all the rules. Dancers - not getting to perform. Parents - getting kicked out of the theater.

It’s finally the day of dress rehearsal. “Don’t forget to buy a show t-shirt.” Oh, no. No way. I have spent way too much on this extravaganza. Wait, those shirts say “Cast” across the back and every single flipping girls’ name is on it. ($20 T-shirt)

Rehearsal went well. The girls were so excited and they did a great job for only getting to run through the routine one time. They behaved like angels. (Of course hair was put in buns hours ago, so that doesn’t count.)

I gave Morgan her t-shirt as a surprise to wear to the show; packed a bag with paper, crayons, card games and blue eye shadow; dropped Zoe off with Uncle Phil and Aunt Michelle; and we actually arrived right on time. ($3 Program)

End result: Priceless
(This is only the dress rehearsel, because if we recorded during the actual show our hands would have been chopped off.)



Epilogue
Despite the fact that she loved classes and the recital and her trophy, Morgan has informed me that she does not want to take ballet next year. Huh?

The Month of Rain or What I've Been Doing for Two Weeks

Lisa: "I'm so sick of this rain. Remind me not to honeymoon at Niagara Falls?"
Mother: "So you'll go to Acapulco...it'll be nice." - Dirty Dancing

Sidebar: It is scary how many Dirty Dancing quotes I have in my brain. I practically gave Scott a monologue when we did the dance lesson with PTA.

* * *

Morgan: Mrs. Noble is my favorite teacher.
Mommy: Who is Mrs. Noble?
Morgan: She's the librarian.
Mommy: Why is she is your favorite?
Morgan: I don't know where I would be without her.

The best part is, the other night we stopped at the school to pick something up. Morgan was up ahead of me and she held a door for a teacher coming out. When I caught up, she giggled and whispered, "That's Mrs. Noble."

So I ran back out to catch her and got to thank her and tell her what Morgan had said. She came over and gave Morgan a hug, which just made her day! Teacher of the Year in my book. Morgan goes in there with pretty specific requests from whales to Chinese New Year (no joke), so I applaud her patience.

* * *

I think Zoe is related to Buddy the Elf. Every five minutes..."Mommy, what's your favorite color?"

It's gotten to the point that she asks the question and answers it in the same breath. "Mommy-what's-your-favorite-color-pink."

I might also note how much Scott loves to be asked this question.

* * *

Time for me to go home: I just tried to feed the ATM $1.50 in order to get a Coke. In case there was any confusion: ATMs do not dispense liquid refreshments.

* * *

Background: The kindergarten class has "mystery reader" days. On those days, a parent comes in to read to the class. The teacher gives the class clues that eventually narrow down the students to the child whose parent is standing in the hallway.

Back in August I signed up for my day. Every week since, Morgan has said, "Gee, I really hope you are going to be the next mystery reader."

I signed up for March 8...apparently. It's really all a blur. I got a reminder note last Friday and made plans to work from home on the following Monday.

I was probably a little overly excited to see her face when she realized I was finally going to be there. Over most of the weekend I kept thinking about which book I was going to take...keeping in mind the length and trying to keep it gender neutral instead of making the little boys suffer through Ballet Kitty.

I showed up at the school Monday morning and signed in by the office, walking giddily down the hallway. It was right before the classroom door that I started to doubt myself.

Suddenly, MARCH 8 flashed before my eyes. Monday was March 7...not March 8. No, I was sure that the note said Monday...but...didn't it say March 8, too?

I stood in the hallway wondering what to do. I couldn't pop my head in. Morgan would see me. I couldn't go back home to check the sheet, because what if I was there on the right day and I was missing when she came to look for me.

Finally, the co-teacher came out of the room for some reason and noticed me there biting my nails.

"Umm, I'm a day early, aren't I?"

Her laughter gave me my answer. Yes, I was an entire DAY early. That's pretty good for me. It should be noted that they did offer to switch the class around to accommodate me, but I felt too stupid and guilty.

I should also note that I dug the reminder letter out of the recycling and nowhere on that form was the word Monday like I had imagined. It simply said March 8. Period.

Ugh, I had absolutely no excuse to fall back on. But as Scarlett says, tomorrow is another day.

Author Note: It was definitely worth the drama to see her beaming face when she came out in the hall to find me.

* * *

My first attempt to participate in the Early Childhood PTA resale event.

My original plan was to systematically go through the house room by room - top to bottom - locating every infant item that I no longer used, thus creating cavernous pockets of space in my storage areas.

The weekend before the resale I managed to get up in the attic and rummage through enough stuff to get myself stuck up there when I tried to come down the ladder and it slid out from the wall.

Luckily Scott was home, so he came to reposition the ladder and then decided to take a gander at the attic situation as well. And that's when the ladder fell again. (My dad helpfully suggested we tie a rope to the ladder the next time. Thanks, Dad.)

Now, you may remember we did a basement purge a while back and threw anything we thought we would take to the resale into giant black Hefty bags that I would organize and clean in the weeks leading up to the sale.

So on Friday I hauled those hefty bags out to the Edge and through them in the back.

Anyway, with lots of help from Michelle (shout out), I did get things cleaned up and organized in my space that night, realizing one big thing...I needed to find more crap to sell. That night I hit the game and puzzle closet, the downstairs nook, my bathroom closet and some bookshelves. So the next morning I was a lot happier, until I came to the realization that I WAS SELLING ALL MY BABY STUFF!

But I'm over it...mostly. And I made a $285 profit. Well, as long as you don't count how much I bought all that shit for in the first place.

Back to Reality or Week 1 in Review

1. Last Monday, Zoe woke up in the middle of the night and insisted on joining us, which meant I had exactly 10.5 inches of king-sized mattress to lay on from about 1:00 - 6:00 a.m. Not conducive to the sleep that is needed before my first day back to work after over a two-week vacation.

2. It's a good thing I didn't spend much of my vacation time analyzing the data I was given for a last minute project an hour before my vacation started, because in a fortunate twist of events, they did not need it. Score!

3. I need to stop stalking Facebook. I keep having dreams with random high school classmates making guest appearances. And I mean RANDOM.

4. My new staff officially started last week and that makes me officially ancient, as I am officially old enough to be her mother. That's not true. Well, it might be biologically true, but I wasn't doing things like that at age 13.

5. I also need to stop playing Soduko on my nook. I had it charging at my laptop in case I had a chance to read at lunchtime and it taunted me all day. I could just play one quick game...,nobody would know...I could stop whenever I wanted.

6. In my on-going quest to read as many Young Adult fantasy books as humanly possible, I have been enjoying Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. So I borrowed The Lightning Thief movie from the library.

• Portraying the gods as giants is NEVER going to look right no matter how good your special effects are?
• Although Sean Bean (Zeus) and Kevin McKidd (Poseidon) were perfectly cast, how could you leave out an entire MAIN CHARACTER? I mean, you might as well have left out Pierce Brosnon as the centaur (clearly the most miscast of all of them) if you aren't going to include Ares, god of war. COME ON, PEOPLE!....
• ...otherwise a thoroughly entertaining movie.

7. Morgan is still lice-free, according to the recent school check where they actually made her take her braids out! If you didn't know, Morgan is VERY particular about her braids. I mean psychotically particular....she doesn't even let Nana do them. But this woman who, according to Morgan, had never braided hair before got a giant stamp of approval from my OCD 5-year-old. Unfortunately, Morgan couldn't remember who it was. So I will send this thank you out to all the random lice-checking moms, because this is definitely one of those cases where I am happy I "work outside the home."

8. In Morgan's journal center, she had to write what amounted to a New Year's Resolution that would be some way in which she would help out around the house or with the family. Morgan said "I will mak mi lunch." So now I have to let her help make the lunches, which I thought couldn't possibly benefit me in any way until I came to the conclusion that it will force me to pack them the night before because the idea of having to get through that in the morning with her is altogether unappealing.

9. Week one of the basement purge is over...I have what equals three drum liner Hefty bags of stuff going to the curb (before we get limited to those new nifty trash cans in March), 3 more bags and one super large plastic tote of potential items for the re-sale, and my entire trunk full of clothes and bedding for Amvets. This does not include the 2 kitchen trash bags full of stuffed animals that I had segregated prior to the holidays for donation. And yet, our crawl space is still full. I do not understand how this happens.

10. And for the miracle of the week...Morgan learned to pogo stick...kind of. She asked for a pogo stick for Christmas, for god knows what reason. Nana Turtle found one with an extra wide base for beginners and Morgan tried it out on Wednesday night in the basement.

First, she just wanted Scott and I to hold her up on it and I kept telling her it wouldn't work that way and she wouldn't be able to go. So we did a few select pseudo-demos (because we technically are too large for this thing). I expected her to give up pretty quickly (she is, after all, my daughter). But damned if she didn't work her little butt off and managed three bounces in a row by the end!

There was only one instance where she fell backward and the stick kind of hit her in the nose. I quickly told her she was fine because there was no blood, which she accepted and got right back at it.

First of all...this is unprecedented. This is the same girl who drags her knuckles on the ground one minute into a soccer game and cannot manage to sit straight up in her chair long enough to write the letter "a".

Second of all...safety first. Before she attempted this, she put a stuffed chair shaped like Elmo behind her and announced it was her butt pad, which did come in handy. This is contrary to the fact that when she asked if she should wear helmet like the child in the picture her dad and I shrugged our shoulders..."ehhh, what's the worst that could happen?" We are also in contention for Parents of the Year.

Author's Note: This post was drafted over the weekend. As I was going to print, Morgan informed me that she had already contractually filled her obligation to pack lunches when she helped me last night. Didn't see that coming.

I Now Pronounce You...

Morgan: Can Murray and I have a sleepover?

Mommy: Hmmm...Murray's still little, he might miss his mommy.

Morgan: No, I can sleep over his house.

Mommy: I have no response to that.

Morgan: Mommy, I have a funny story to tell you in the car...(now imagine a story told through a giggling 5-year-old voice)

Today I told the whole bus that I am going to marry Murray. And Addison said she wasn't getting married because kissing is gross. But Murray told me that he told his whole class he is going to marry me. And then...and I only did this because he asked me to...then Murray asked me to kiss him on the lips so I did. Isn't that funny?

Mommy: You are not going to sleep over Murray's house.

Note 1: Murray is 4-year-old boy at sitter's and I cannot hear his name without thinking of Gavin McCloud on the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

Note 2: Pretty much up until today Morgan has told me that kissing is gross, also.

First of all...yikes!

Second of all...the fact that I am not ready for this stage does not bode well for her tween years.

Here is a list of questions I will be asking Murray the next time I see him to determine compatibility.

Concern for the environment: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Appreciation of the Arts: "Yo Gabba Gabba", "Jack's Big Music Show", or "Fresh Beat Band"?

Humor: Woopee cushion or prat fall?

Earnings Potential: Fireman or Football Player?

Deductive Reasoning: How many taxi cabs are in New York City? (That's just there because my boss asks it in every interview and I think it is unfair.)

So Many Re-caps, So Little Time

Mounted New TV Over the Fireplace

Cut a giant hole in our wall 5 days prior to having my family over for "Cousin's Christmas". The hole was to run all the wiring from the TV to the components, as well as run an entirely new line of electricity from the breaker box.

In an uncommon-look towards the future, we bought every wire we could possibly hook up to the TV: 4 HDMI, 1 Cable, 1 Component (Red, Blue, Green), 1 Surround Sound, 1 PC video, 1 PC Audio, for a total of 10 wires, counting electricity.

Number of items actually hooked up to the TV? 2. Cable box and Wii (to be fair, we had a DVD player, but it doesn't fit in the cupboard we converted to a component box - which is cooler than it sounds).

Number of stores I had to visit to find all these items at a reasonable price? 5. Home Depot, Costco, Walmart, Target, and Best Buy.

How many Geek Squad members I had to play the helpless female to? 3.

All guidance suggested hooking the new breaker up in the daytime for the obvious reason that you had to turn off the main breaker to the house. We did ours at 9 PM after the girls went to bed.

Pretty much we have received flashlights for Christmas every year since being married - that would be 12 years. Number of working flashlights found? 0.

Scott turned his car lights on and pointed it in the basement window, then wore Morgan's LL Bean camping headlamp for the detailed procedure. Considering no one was electrocuted and all electricity came back on immediately...major success!

So now we have a giant hole in our wall to patch. Normally, not a big deal, but in our house there is a level of plaster on top of the wallboard which has a very random texture to it. Coat of paint went on the wall Saturday morning before the party.

Did we succeed? My dad asked where we cut the hole! Now, maybe he was trying to make us feel good about our project, but I'll take it.

Cousin's Christmas

Invitation time: 6PM. Aunt Charlie's arrival: 5:45PM. Classic.

How many people can fit in our kitchen?

Aunt Charlie rinsing shrimp (the wrong shrimp, because "Uncle Mike grabbed the wrong bag" for her) while Noah supervises;

Rebecca cutting organic apples grown from trees watered by carrying buckets from a natural spring and brie made from the milk of a free-range goat that sleeps on a bed of molted goose feathers;

Scott moving pizzas from prep block to oven stone to counter to serving plates;

Uncle Mike pouring Manhattans from a previously used plastic bottle of spring water that he brought with him from home (WoWo's - a flask might be an excellent Christmas gift!);

Jake exploding the 2-liter of ginger ale; my mom cleaning up the spill with paper towels; Dad holding his splinted hand over his head (surgery); and me yelling at everyone to get-out-of-the-kitchen-until-we-at-least-get-our-pizzas-out-of-the-oven-for-christ-sakes.

Okay, now it is actually 6 o-clock. Obviously, the Swigart's do not go for being "fashionably late."

Most sought-after item in the White Elephant gift exchange: Snuggie (with bonus gift of nose-hair trimmers)
Most inappropriate item in the White Elephant gift exchange: Jake's chin strap.

New colors for Christmas Cookie decorating icing: raspberry, olive, gray, navy blue, taxi-cab yellow, white and some shade of purple I'm not sure was around when Christ was born.

$#!* My Kids Say

Morgan (after seeing the commercial where the ocean life swims out of the television): If we had a 3-D TV and if Potter wasn't blind, then if he started barking we could tell him to stop because it's not real.

Zoe (after Mommy tells her she has to wait until Christmas to get the purse she picked out in Macy's...no joke...she was obsessed with this purse): I need to sit on Santa's lap.

Morgan: Paul and I are trying very hard not to dawdle in school.

Mommy: Do you think you are on the naughty or nice list?
Zoe (without hesitation): Naughty.

Mommy: What do you want to write in your letter to Santa?
Morgan: Do you think I should write that we have been good like he asked us to?
Mommy: Have you?
Morgan: Maybe we should say we are trying to be good like he asked us to.

Dear Santa,

We will try to be good, just like you said. It doesn't matter about getting presents, it's all about sharing and caring at Christmas (editor's note: I sense a little reverse psychology at play here). Mommy has been good, too. And so has Daddy.

Morgan, Zoe, and my DVR

Morgan

Never have I wished for public school uniforms more than I have this week.

Changing Morgan's mindset from summertime dresses and crocs to wintertime socks, long sleeves, and (god forbid) pants ranks rights up there with cleaning up the St. Bernard piles of poop from my living room carpet. Actually, cleaning up the poop took up a lot less time, and Potter didn't fight me about it. He took it like a man, despite the fact I made him stay outside while it was raining.

Morgan's list of grievances include, but are not limited to:

"Pants that touch her feet" (Anything other than capris or leggings.)

Shoes that are "too tight" (AKA actually fit her appropriately)

Long-sleeve shirts that aren't pretty enough. (Anything that is a solid color or a pattern other than rainbow. These would be the same shirts that actually coordinate with the patterned skirts and leggings, so you see my dilemma.)

Socks that "bother her" (AKA any sock with seams across the toes. FYI - ALL socks have seams across the toes. While I don't think this is worthy of the flood of tears it produces in Morgan, I do wonder why socks can't be made with seams on the outside, or no seam at all. That has to be possible. And for those of you who are about to suggest I turn the socks inside out...if you think Morgan is wearing solid colored plain socks, you are sorely mistaken. Trust me when I say her socks cannot be turned inside out.)

Sleeves that touch her wrists (This is not as bad as pants that touch her feet, but it's up there.)

Collars that touch her neck (The one thing I've been able to cut out of her wardrobe...until the winter coat comes along.)

I'm actually considering having her evaluated for some kind of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Normally, I would self-diagnose, but since Scott frowns on my use of WebMD for my own aches and pains, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't believe me if I confirmed Morgan's diagnosis on crazypeople.com.

Zoe

Spent Wednesday walking everywhere in Morgan's flip flops. Not flip flops that used to be Morgan's. Morgan's current flip flops.

If Lydia is at Thea's, they trade shoes for the day. Luckily Thea is good at remembering, because there have been many a time when I would have walked out without noticing.

Sometimes she wears a pair and carries a pair and puts a pair in the diaper bag. (You just never know what the situation will call for. A girl must be prepared.)

She never wants to wear the pair I give her, even if she happily wore them the day before.

She has requested to sleep with her shoes on more than one occasion. Not on her feet, but rather holding them like stuffed animals.

Contrarywise - none of her dolls are allowed to wear shoes.

DVR

When last I left you...

I can't believe I forgot to mention Melissa & Joe on ABC Family. Melissa Joan Hart (Sabrina the Teenage Witch) and Joey Lawrence (Blossom) [Or for you children of the 80's Clarissa Explains All and Gimme A Break]. This is almost a rehashing of yet another 80's classic Who's The Boss, but Who Cares. Love the witty banter and might also enjoy the fact that her butt looks bigger than mine now.

Raising Hope - First episode was funny but mildly disturbing. By the second episode, I was over the disturbing part and laughing my ass off. Definitely a keeper.

Running Wilde - I wish I had that half hour of my life back.

Modern Family - If you have ever had a family, you should watch this show. And if Phil is not my brother Charlie, I do not know who is. This is my number one show. Period. Manny: I think I'm going to wear my burgundy jacket. Gloria: Of course you are.

Cougartown - I still think this is really funny, but it also has its moments of stupidity, so watch at your own risk. Courtney Cox is the most annoying mom ever, but when her craziness does not involve her son, she is very amusing. But her hillbilly ex-husband Bobby is the main reason to watch this show.

Community - I'm still going to watch it because of my inappropriate crush on Joel McHale, but these first two episodes have not been that funny. And enough with Betty White already. I can watch Golden Girls reruns anytime I want a fix.

The Office - I miss the old days, however...Dwight peeing in the elevator - classic!....Michael's face when they tell him Toby is his counselor - priceless! (I haven't watched the second episode yet.)

Programming note: I have not watched Outsourced yet, but it is on my list. Did you notice the shocking lack of hour-long drama's from my DVR list? I can't do it anymore. With the exception of Haven and Pretty Little Liars, I have not had the ability to pick up a new drama and stick with it. Maybe it's Lost aftershock. I'm not sure.

The Value of Money

Ever since I banned the phrase “I want that,” from our household, Morgan has been very interested in "how many dollars" things cost. Loophole: Instead she uses the phrase “I would maybe like that for my birthday/Christmas.” Semantics? Yes.

For the last year, we have let her take the change from our pockets to put in her bank and I recently cashed it in at a Coinstar for her, but she’s starting to get depressed in the knowledge that it takes a lot of money to buy things from The Disney Store.

On having five dollars left to spend…
Morgan: How many dollars is this?
Mommy: Nine.
Morgan: (dramatic sigh) Put it on my Christmas list, I guess.

This went on throughout the store and it was heartbreaking, but hopefully a lesson learned.

We are even letting her do “chores” to earn money, but we’re trying to keep it reasonable, because I will admit I was a bit concerned she’d bankrupt us with her initiative. So it’s fifty cents here, a quarter there type of pay.

She also has no patience, so “saving” isn’t her strong suit. On leaving the store that day, she was okay with saving for the Alice doll, but by the time she got home the futility sank in that the doll was twenty dollars and it was going to take her “forever” so “just add it to the Christmas list.”

Because money in her hand burns the proverbial hole in her pocket. She just has to spend it on something. Even if it isn’t what she really wants. Thus making it take longer to save. Yet another lesson.

So last Tuesday, a Talent Group check came in the mail. These usually come around a couple months after the photo shoots occur, so they are always a little bit of a surprise. And this one was substantial, because it was a longer shoot and included a travel stipend. (Read about that joy here.)

Normally, I put this money into her savings account without even saying anything. I figure if she keeps at it for a while, she’ll have some spending money in college. Maybe she’ll be the one offering to buy the kegs when she moves into her first off-campus apartment.

But Scott pointed out that she did earn the money, so maybe she should be allowed to decide what to do with a small part of it. He’s the good cop. I’m the bad cop.

So that Tuesday night I show her the check and explain where it came from. And that the next day we could take it to the bank and that they would give us dollar bills for it and put it in her account. But that she could have twenty-five dollars out of it to spend.



Pure joy!