09 November 2011

Crowning Glory

My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R.
My delivery van has a second name, it's W-T-F...
I saw it drive down the highway,
And when I did I had to saaaaaay:
"Whatever did this poor van do
For someone to treat it this way?"

Now there's something you just don't see everyday.

That's some bad hat, Harry.

Crowning Glory

My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R.
My delivery van has a second name, it's W-T-F...
I saw it drive down the highway,
And when I did I had to saaaaaay:
"Whatever did this poor van do
For someone to treat it this way?"

Now there's something you just don't see everyday.

That's some bad hat, Harry.

08 November 2011

How I Knew I Was in Big Trouble as a Parent

Ever since I got into this whole blogging thing, some of the blogs I most enjoy reading are the bent mommy ones in which moms with a sense of humor as bent as mine write about life with their kids and the unpredictable things that those kids say or do.  In truth, I'm a little jealous as well, because since my kid is grown and off at college  I no longer have a built-in wealth of daily material from which to draw.

Therefore, tonight I'm going to be a "mommy blogger" and offer up a few of my daughter's more entertaining observations about the world, many of which firmly convinced me by the time she was five that we were totally screwed.

Age 2

Girlie was able to legibly write her own name for the first time and began using the pronouns "I" and "me" instead of referring to herself by name.  By the time she was 2 ½, the speech pathologist who ran Gymboree where she did "gymnastics" told me that she had the vocabulary of a 5- or 6-year-old.  The girlie used this vocabulary, among other things, to "discipline" her toys.  For example, she would hurl a stuffed Big Bird across the room and then scream "No, No!  Come here!!" at it.  To be fair, she also loved Big Bird and "bathed" him and tucked him in bed.  Still, it's a little disconcerting the first time you hear your kid echo your own less-than-charitable comments.

Age 3

After having just been to her uncle and aunt's wedding (as an honorary flower girl), my girlie asked me in the car one day what married people did on their honeymoon.  I explained that they got to know each other better and celebrated their wedding by themselves.  Then she asked when they would return from their honeymoon, which she instantly amended to "honeysun."  When I asked why she said "honeysun," she told me it was because it was light outside, and "honeymoon" was for night.  Interestingly, she also insisted on calling her aunt "Miss Kathy" until after the wedding, after which she immediately began calling her "Aunt Kathy."  Observing the formalities is very important when you're three.

Similarly, in Girlie-Land, "yesterday" was differentiated from "yesternight."

One night when we went to pick her up from another aunt and uncle who had been babysitting her while we went to a movie, she woke up just enough to observe the conversation for a few minutes.  Suddenly she asked us "Why can I see other people's eyes but I can't see my own?"  Her aunt and uncle, who had just had their first child a year before, looked at each other in horror and threatened to put us on speed dial in case their daughter ever started asking such complicated questions.

My girlie also started becoming concerned with having a sibling around age 3.  One day she said:  "God helps a Mommy and a Daddy make a baby, right?  Can God's hands reach into your tummy?"  A couple of months later she told me that we were taking too long to make her a baby sister and that we just needed to go adopt one.  She was THREE.

The Easter just before she turned 4 she asked me "Why can Jesus take his body to Heaven and we can't?"   After swallowing my surprise, I told her that since he was the only perfect person in the world, he was the only one allowed to keep his actual body in Heaven.  Mercifully, this seemed to satisfy her.  I sighed in relief.

Age 4

One day, after being annoyed by endless repetition of the same question, I exasperatedly warned:  "Giiiiiiiirleeeee...!" to which she replied, "Don't 'Girlie' ME!"

On another day, her father was attempted to convince her that her bicycle seat should be raised.
After much arguing she informed him in no uncertain terms:  "Daddy, it's my bike...it should be my decision!"

She began writing notes, and wrote me one that said "I love you bekas Im a big grl."

Me:  "Girlie, you sure ask a lot of questions!"
Her:  "That's because my mouth is FULL of questions!"
(A couple of months later)
Me:  "Why do you ask so many questions?"
Her:  "Because my mouth hasn't run out of questions yet!"

"Mommies know almost everything.  God and Jesus know everything, but mommies know almost everything."

One day I was driving the girlie to pre-kindergarten.  She was confused about something she'd heard in Sunday School and wanted to know the difference between God and Joseph.  I explained that God was Jesus' father in Heaven and that Joseph was his daddy on Earth. This was not adequate enough information to suit her.  She wanted to know how that worked.  So I told her that God sent the Holy Spirit to make Jesus start growing in Mary's tummy and that Joseph would help take care of Jesus on Earth since God was too busy looking after everyone all at the same time.  Just as we were pulling into the school drive she sprung THIS one on me: "So...is the Holy Spirit God's sperm??"
I nearly drove off the road.


There are many, many other stories, but those are among my favorites.  My girlie was always the sort of person who wanted to run everywhere because waiting till she'd learned to walk was both overrated and a waste of valuable time.  She's still largely that way.  While I miss those days of innocence and joy and downright freakish insight, I am still excited to see where that girl goes next because she is still running with joyful abandon and probably always will.
I am in as much awe of her now as I was when she was 4.

How I Knew I Was in Big Trouble as a Parent

Ever since I got into this whole blogging thing, some of the blogs I most enjoy reading are the bent mommy ones in which moms with a sense of humor as bent as mine write about life with their kids and the unpredictable things that those kids say or do.  In truth, I'm a little jealous as well, because since my kid is grown and off at college  I no longer have a built-in wealth of daily material from which to draw.

Therefore, tonight I'm going to be a "mommy blogger" and offer up a few of my daughter's more entertaining observations about the world, many of which firmly convinced me by the time she was five that we were totally screwed.

Age 2

Girlie was able to legibly write her own name for the first time and began using the pronouns "I" and "me" instead of referring to herself by name.  By the time she was 2 ½, the speech pathologist who ran Gymboree where she did "gymnastics" told me that she had the vocabulary of a 5- or 6-year-old.  The girlie used this vocabulary, among other things, to "discipline" her toys.  For example, she would hurl a stuffed Big Bird across the room and then scream "No, No!  Come here!!" at it.  To be fair, she also loved Big Bird and "bathed" him and tucked him in bed.  Still, it's a little disconcerting the first time you hear your kid echo your own less-than-charitable comments.

Age 3

After having just been to her uncle and aunt's wedding (as an honorary flower girl), my girlie asked me in the car one day what married people did on their honeymoon.  I explained that they got to know each other better and celebrated their wedding by themselves.  Then she asked when they would return from their honeymoon, which she instantly amended to "honeysun."  When I asked why she said "honeysun," she told me it was because it was light outside, and "honeymoon" was for night.  Interestingly, she also insisted on calling her aunt "Miss Kathy" until after the wedding, after which she immediately began calling her "Aunt Kathy."  Observing the formalities is very important when you're three.

Similarly, in Girlie-Land, "yesterday" was differentiated from "yesternight."

One night when we went to pick her up from another aunt and uncle who had been babysitting her while we went to a movie, she woke up just enough to observe the conversation for a few minutes.  Suddenly she asked us "Why can I see other people's eyes but I can't see my own?"  Her aunt and uncle, who had just had their first child a year before, looked at each other in horror and threatened to put us on speed dial in case their daughter ever started asking such complicated questions.

My girlie also started becoming concerned with having a sibling around age 3.  One day she said:  "God helps a Mommy and a Daddy make a baby, right?  Can God's hands reach into your tummy?"  A couple of months later she told me that we were taking too long to make her a baby sister and that we just needed to go adopt one.  She was THREE.

The Easter just before she turned 4 she asked me "Why can Jesus take his body to Heaven and we can't?"   After swallowing my surprise, I told her that since he was the only perfect person in the world, he was the only one allowed to keep his actual body in Heaven.  Mercifully, this seemed to satisfy her.  I sighed in relief.

Age 4

One day, after being annoyed by endless repetition of the same question, I exasperatedly warned:  "Giiiiiiiirleeeee...!" to which she replied, "Don't 'Girlie' ME!"

On another day, her father was attempted to convince her that her bicycle seat should be raised.
After much arguing she informed him in no uncertain terms:  "Daddy, it's my bike...it should be my decision!"

She began writing notes, and wrote me one that said "I love you bekas Im a big grl."

Me:  "Girlie, you sure ask a lot of questions!"
Her:  "That's because my mouth is FULL of questions!"
(A couple of months later)
Me:  "Why do you ask so many questions?"
Her:  "Because my mouth hasn't run out of questions yet!"

"Mommies know almost everything.  God and Jesus know everything, but mommies know almost everything."

One day I was driving the girlie to pre-kindergarten.  She was confused about something she'd heard in Sunday School and wanted to know the difference between God and Joseph.  I explained that God was Jesus' father in Heaven and that Joseph was his daddy on Earth. This was not adequate enough information to suit her.  She wanted to know how that worked.  So I told her that God sent the Holy Spirit to make Jesus start growing in Mary's tummy and that Joseph would help take care of Jesus on Earth since God was too busy looking after everyone all at the same time.  Just as we were pulling into the school drive she sprung THIS one on me: "So...is the Holy Spirit God's sperm??"
I nearly drove off the road.


There are many, many other stories, but those are among my favorites.  My girlie was always the sort of person who wanted to run everywhere because waiting till she'd learned to walk was both overrated and a waste of valuable time.  She's still largely that way.  While I miss those days of innocence and joy and downright freakish insight, I am still excited to see where that girl goes next because she is still running with joyful abandon and probably always will.
I am in as much awe of her now as I was when she was 4.

07 November 2011

Ode to the Peaky Posse

I have a group of dear friends online, affectionately nicknamed "the Posse" because they are so supportive that they are willing to drop everything on virtually a moment's notice to band together and rush all over the country to the aid of whichever other member requires assistance.  "Assistance" can come in many forms, from shoveling hot soup down your throat to beating the crap out of husbands/significant others/bosses/teachers/anyone-else-who-has-it-coming to bolstering flagging egos to providing much-needed chocolate and/or tequila (though those last two are pretty much the same thing) to re-inflating hopes to shipping mini-roosters across the country* to making you feel so loved and protected and supported that you can't possibly imagine how you ever managed to take a step without them.  In short, they are extraordinary, and I love them all.

Currently, however, the ickus/crud/flu/insert-colorful-germ-metaphor-here is running rampant through my poor posse, and everyone is feeling less than stellar.  One lovely lady is even recovering from a rather virulent pneumonia which kept her in the hospital on both her birthday and her baby's 1st birthday.  Mercifully, she is home now and resting (I hope).

So.  All you beautiful, amazing, loving and spectacularly awesome women of the Posse, this little ditty is for you:

All the Sickie Ladies

All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies),
All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies), 
All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies),  
All the sickie ladies...

Now put your feet up!
Up here at home, and my temp's up.
I'm in my pjs and I'm coughing.
Got snot I want to spit, just had a shiv'rin' fit,
'Cuz the flu has got a-hold of me.

My brain is fuzzed, my body aches
And kids demand my attention.
Tryin' not to barf, Nyquil I will scarf,
Oh, please, just let me be.

If you disliked it then you should have put some drugs on it.
If you liked it then you're really just delirious.
Just get mad and open cans of Whup Ass on it.
With all this phlegm I don't know why I'm singin' 'bout it...

Woah oh ohh oh oh ohh *cough* oh ohh oh oh oh

"If you disliked it then you should have opened Whup Ass on it..."

Feel better soon, Lovely Ladies!!

*Courtesy of one our fabulous females, we now have our own traveling BeyoncĂ© (which seems doubly appropriate here), as inspired by the Bloggess:  And that's why you should learn to pick your battles

Ode to the Peaky Posse

I have a group of dear friends online, affectionately nicknamed "the Posse" because they are so supportive that they are willing to drop everything on virtually a moment's notice to band together and rush all over the country to the aid of whichever other member requires assistance.  "Assistance" can come in many forms, from shoveling hot soup down your throat to beating the crap out of husbands/significant others/bosses/teachers/anyone-else-who-has-it-coming to bolstering flagging egos to providing much-needed chocolate and/or tequila (though those last two are pretty much the same thing) to re-inflating hopes to shipping mini-roosters across the country* to making you feel so loved and protected and supported that you can't possibly imagine how you ever managed to take a step without them.  In short, they are extraordinary, and I love them all.

Currently, however, the ickus/crud/flu/insert-colorful-germ-metaphor-here is running rampant through my poor posse, and everyone is feeling less than stellar.  One lovely lady is even recovering from a rather virulent pneumonia which kept her in the hospital on both her birthday and her baby's 1st birthday.  Mercifully, she is home now and resting (I hope).

So.  All you beautiful, amazing, loving and spectacularly awesome women of the Posse, this little ditty is for you:

All the Sickie Ladies

All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies),
All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies), 
All the sickie ladies (all the sickie ladies),  
All the sickie ladies...

Now put your feet up!
Up here at home, and my temp's up.
I'm in my pjs and I'm coughing.
Got snot I want to spit, just had a shiv'rin' fit,
'Cuz the flu has got a-hold of me.

My brain is fuzzed, my body aches
And kids demand my attention.
Tryin' not to barf, Nyquil I will scarf,
Oh, please, just let me be.

If you disliked it then you should have put some drugs on it.
If you liked it then you're really just delirious.
Just get mad and open cans of Whup Ass on it.
With all this phlegm I don't know why I'm singin' 'bout it...

Woah oh ohh oh oh ohh *cough* oh ohh oh oh oh

"If you disliked it then you should have opened Whup Ass on it..."

Feel better soon, Lovely Ladies!!

*Courtesy of one our fabulous females, we now have our own traveling BeyoncĂ© (which seems doubly appropriate here), as inspired by the Bloggess:  And that's why you should learn to pick your battles

06 November 2011

Pennsylvania: Where Nipples Go to Convalesce

Now that my girlie is in college in New York, we have the dubious "pleasure" twice a year of hauling her and all her stuff to and from the dorm of the year.  It's not that I mind, really, though I could do without the 16-hour (one way) drive.  I usually last about 5 hours before I start getting the fidgets, after which it's all downhill.  I get bored.  I try to read.  My butt goes numb.  I stretch my legs in the limited space.  I munch snacks.  Awkward body parts that have no business falling asleep somehow do.  Very little can change the plain fact that 16 hours is just a long freaking drive, never mind having to do it twice in less than a week.

That said, one of my favorite things about the long drive is traveling through Pennsylvania.  The scenery alongside the Susquehanna River is gorgeous and, without fail, I find myself singing "Oh Shenandoah, I love your dauuuuuu-ghterrrrrrrr" whenever we pass the signs, much to my own daughter's annoyance.  It seems I have several such nerdy little habits.  Well, at least I'm consistent.

Speaking of signs, by far the best part about driving through Pennsylvania are, in fact, the road signs.  On our most recent trip there in August I spent pretty much the entire time both going and coming trying to get decent pictures of some of the better ones.  While I didn't get all of the good ones, I did get a few to share.  Lucky you.

Beware--Amish Crossing.
On the way up this time, we actually got to see two of the buggies completely wrapped in Saran Wrap and traveling on a flat-bed truck.  How's that for irony?  Deliberately un-powered vehicles being transported by a semi.  Too funny.

You've gotta love the "Spill Response" right below the "Water Supply Area, Next 2 Miles."
Apparently Pennsylvania doesn't trust people not to spill their water supply.

You can picnic, but you can't pee.  Not that I've ever found rest stop restrooms to be what I would call "comfortable."

Keep Alert...the world needs more Lerts.
   
Like you wouldn't notice heavy trucks zipping around you.
 
As opposed to "Speed Up and Take Down People for More Points"?

We don't believe in those kind of parties around here.
 
Big Brother is Watching You.  He's currently hiding in that cornfield.

Especially in those buggies.

And this would be WHY you watch out for Aggressive Drivers.
Or does that just mean that all the aggressive drivers crash in this one spot?

Buckle Up Every Time--the cows hiding in the cornfields like tipping cars.

Can one even drive a million miles around the Earth?

Smile--everyone will wonder what you're up to, right, Lisa?  And shouldn't that really read "Smirk--Pass It On"?

Eating flies and dating a pig has always been MY dream.

Dam!  This place is Sha-MOKIN'!!

I'm glad they pointed that out.  Because I was looking for the Impure Candy Store...

We got stuck behind this dude for a while, and all I could do was keep singing the "Piña Colada" song.

$500 for parking for the Little League World Series?  That seems a bit extreme.

Battlestar Galactica Billboards  FTW.

Apparently Pennsylvania has too many outlets.

I wasn't aware that marijuana came in cans now.

Yes, technically ice cream does come from cows, but this form of advertising is udderly ridiculous.

Pennsylvania takes its James Joyce celebrations very seriously.

Swanky McDonald's sells Mango Pineapple smoothies.

And when exactly did McDonald's start redesigning the Golden Arches?  Now it just looks like a messed-up
Nike swish instead of golden arches.  So what's the new slogan gonna be, "Just Chew It"?


Putting that on a billboard is kind of like having a banner on your computer that reads "Won't you be my Internet Stalker?"

Best.Signs.Ever.  If you look closely, you can see a red nose on the deer.
Closeup of Rudolph, though I suspect this particular sign was embellished.  Most of the noses aren't quite that big.

My husband told me about this sign--I made him turn around and go back so I could see it.
Good thing he was driving  at the time so I that could take pictures, because if
*I* had been behind the wheel and seen this, I probably would have driven off the road.

Seriously?  I wasn't aware that there were so many nipple ailments that they warranted their own convalescent home.
Worse still, look closely behind the Nipple flag banner--there's a Frigidaire air conditioning unit in the window.
Because there is nothing a good nipple convalescent home needs more than cold air blowing across the residents, amirite?
Also, at the Nipple Convalescent Home, after hours you should use the rear entrance.  Um, yeah.
Interesting treatment, that.  And just remember, no shamokin'...we don't need any additional pains in the ash.

I don't know that there is a lot more I can add to red-nosed reindeer, non-impure chocolate and nipple convalescence.   So thanks, Pennsylvania, for letting me know where my nipples can convalesce should they choose to droop any further south and therefore require corrective surgery.  I am relieved to know that there is a place specializing in their care and that it is adequately air conditioned.  That had been a prevailing concern in my life thus far.