More Fun with Holiday Food

Exile in Boyville, case in point:

At lunch today, Isaac began fussing and rubbing his face, saying "nut, nut!" He's at that point where his words don't always correspond to the situation, so I didn't really put it together until Ryan asked, "Did he stick a pistachio up his nose?"
Mommy Alert goes from zero to sixty. Kleenex in hand, I tilt his little head back and am trying to figure out how to tell if there is, in fact, a pistachio up his nose (turns out it's not as obvious as you'd think). I am also trying to remain calm, so that nobody else (Isaac not least) will be worried about the fact that I have the baby in a headlock. After a couple of totally useless maneuvers with the Kleenex, he sneezes tremendously, and what should fly out of his little nose but an enormous snot-covered pistachio. It lands on his hand, and before I, who am still slightly in shock, can react, he pops the whole thing in his mouth AND EATS IT.

At this point, I have given up trying to remain calm, and am screeching like a banshee. My other kids and husband are doubled over laughing. This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart.

the toilet gods do not feel the holiday spirit

My general theory of Ignoring It Til It Goes Away often does not work so well where plumbing is concerned.
Now the "ga-GLURG! ga-GLURG!" issues in chorus from the toilet, kitchen sink, and washing machine drain, and is, most recently, followed by something decidedly un-Christmassy backing up into the bathtub.
Places to rent a snake are not so plentiful over the holiday weekend.

Daisy's Christmas breakfast

12:00 am - 6:44 am: two M&M-filled plastic candy canes, pilfered from stockings
7:23 am: cinnamon roll abandoned by distracted toddler
7:46 am: pizzle stick left under tree by Santa Claus  (if you are not familiar with pizzle sticks, try to stay that way)
8:05 am: partially nibbled gingerbread cookie and carrot left behind by SC and reindeer

The World According to Owen

"Oh no, Mama, help! There are boogers coming out of my nose!!!!"

cumpleanos feliz!

So I had my first experience (though probably not my last, judging by the makeup of Alec's kindergarten class) as a guest at a latino birthday party this weekend. I am, in general, famously underdressed, and this was no exception; all other females present were wearing patent leather heels and had their hair professionally styled in swirly little doodles...it actually felt kind of like prom, if prom entailed half a roasted pig and a two-foot-tall castle cake complete with turrets and spires and whatnot. Actually, the cake looked like the hairdresser might have gotten hold of it.
My little monsters had a splendid time, as there were about twenty-five other kids under the age of ten, and running around screaming is totally tolerated, and even encouraged. The good news is that none of my progeny peed on the front stoop.

Not making this up

Got a call at work from my husband (who was at home) to ask if I knew where his belt was.

"Life is shitty and it's not fair"
                             - Charlene Rasmussen, who knows

On the bright side, I'm actually reading a book...

"When the PR guy and his silly girlfriend went off to dance around the Midsummer pole in front of the general store on the other side of the island, he stayed behind with his herring and his aquavit in the cockpit of the M-30, shooting the breeze with his old school pal."
I know it's nitpicky (yes, like the "criteria" thing...you may be noticing a pattern by now), but while reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo I'm hearing in my head the voice of the Swedish Chef. Somehow the translation manages to be loopy and dorky all at once, like my onetime German Lit professor who regaled us with a Book of Boners (apparently in, like, 1928, "boner" was slang for a joke or pun).
The silver lining is that, if I am complaining about a book, it means I am reading a book. This was my end-of-robotics-season gift to myself. And a book goofily translated into Euro-English is still better than just about anything I can think of.

The toilet gods are angry.

So I'm lying on the couch (which never happens, but I'm sick today and trying not to be a total wreck for tomorrow's all-day robotics competition)(so I will have the necessary mental fortitude to deal with ten-year-old boys crying on my shoulders when they don't win)(which they have not a snowball's chance in hell of doing) attempting to be unconscious when I hear a loud ga-GLURG ga-GLURG ga-GLURG coming from the bathroom.  Upon investigation, I find that all the water in the toilet has mysteriously disappeared. Feeling like the heroine in a campy horror B-movie (think "Alligator"), I reach over and flush the toilet, and a large geyser of water shoots up and splashes back down.
This is as far as the current installment of the indoor-plumbing saga has gotten, but I will keep you posted, unless I am eaten by a mutant sewer-dwelling reptile.

In other news, nothing I can say or do serves to convince Owen that God didn't intend boogers as an anytime snack.

Reasons to Love Your Batty Czech Neighbor

# 78.  She says things like, "May I borrow your veet vacker?"

#79.  Large jars of moonshine made by her Cousin Something in the old country.

Too bad for the rest of you

Did I mention? Only people with the same last name are allowed to follow my blog.

at the store

Owen: "Mama, can I have a treat?"
Me: "We already have treats at home. We have a zillion treats at home. We have treats out the yang!"
Owen: "......Mama, where IS the yang?"

The Criminal Mastermind

Alec, at a younger age, used to run around the house with fistfuls of marbles (yes, I let my small children play with marbles. So far they have not choked. I figure marbles are smooth enough to pass right through, right? It's not like they're thumbtacks.) yelling (because he likes to narrate everything he does, mostly at high volumes), "I have tiny balls!"
Which was true.

The Bouncer

Don't let his cute, pudgy demeanor fool you. He will totally kick your ass, or at least throw golf balls at your head until you give in.

The answer is NO.

So, "Exile in Boyville."

Case in point.....

It froze last night, and Alec and I stepped outside this morning to survey the damage to our lovely big pumpkins. One had, sure enough, turned wrinkly on the top side, and the bottom side had become wet, shingly pumpkin squoosh.
Alec's immediate reaction was, "Wow! Can I sit in it?"

Now, really.

I grew up as the oldest of three sisters. We took part in our share of tree-climbing and snake-catching and whatnot, but I think I can speak for all of us that it would never have crossed our minds to want to sit in a huge, rotten pumpkin.  I think I can speak for virtually every female I have ever met. These little people come from a different planet.

And my cousin in Alaska!

At least I'm entertaining someone besides myself.

following

And my Dad!

followed

Yay! I have a follower! It's my mom!

eats, shoots, and leaves

I spent three and a half hours in a meeting today ("Professional Development") in which our presenter, who is really nice and really knowledgeable about certain, obviously rather limited, things, persisted in using 'criteria' as the singular. What is your criteria? Take a look at this criteria.

This is the kind of shit that drives me straight out of my tree.

Again, with the job thing. Maybe I want to get fired. Over my blog. Ha.

At the store

Alec: Hey, Mom, can I have Spiderman fruit snacks?
Me: No.
Alec: Can I have a Halloween balloon?
Me: No.
Alec: Can I have a bag of Snickers?
Me: No.
Alec: What is this?
Me: A summer sausage.
Alec: Can I have it?
Me: No.
Alec: Why?
Me: Because it's gross.
Alec: Why?
Me: Because it's full of chemicals and things you shouldn't eat.
Alec: Why?
Me: Well, so they don't have to refrigerate it and stuff. But really, nobody should eat meat that doesn't go in the fridge.
Alec: Why not?
Me:  Because...hey Alec, I really need you to sit in the racecar cart and drive for a while.
Alec: Why?
Me: Because it's hard for Mama to think about what to buy when you ask me all these questions.

(wait for it.....)

Alec: But why?

testing

Well, I looked on the Department of Education website, and it told me little. I also looked on the Colorado Dept of Ed website, which also mostly failed to enlighten me. I know our district's motto is "Educating Every Student for Success," which I can tell you ain't happening.

Wait - isn't there some blog-etiquette thing about not discussing one's job too much? Wow - first in-laws and now job. I'm doomed.

testing

testing, testing, testing. as if a barrage of assessment is going to fix things. what is the goal of public education anyway?

life with poultry

"Mama, there's a chicken in the playroom!"

second thought

It might be better to remain under the radar, if I'm going to indulge in in-law sniping. OH, THE STORIES I COULD TELL!

bloggin

Should I tell people I know to follow my blog, or does the truly intrepid blogger just wait for bloggees to materialize out of the fabric of the universe?

not anyone I know

That last post was in no way related to the fact that my in-laws are visiting.

not anyone I know

There are those sorts of people who cannot order from a menu without at least three changes to the item in question (I'd like the BLT, only with no mayo, hold the tomato, add pepperoncinis, and can I substitute seitan for bacon?). In restaurant math, the chance of getting what they ordered is essentially zero. Why, then?

Great Adventure

I have a friend who is sailing around the world. Her husband sort of thinks he's Ernest Hemingway, and, although I tease him, I envy her the epic adventure

One of the unforeseen consequences of watching Wallace and Gromit is that the three-year-old demands Wensleydale for lunch.

I hope it's not possible to incur karma debt due to neglect of an ant farm.

Surely there is some kind of limit on our personal responsibility toward tiny invertebrates?