Christmas Wishes

“Mom, it’s ok, Santa knows what I want.” So, you’re totally panicked because your three year-old is positive that Santa knows EXACTLY what to bring and all he can describe is it’s the thing that goes “Aaah” when you hit it. Crap. So, not wanting to break the Christmas tradition you go to the toy store asking the knowledgeable clerk, you know the one that is at least old enough to bear children, which toy goes “Aaah” when you hit it. The look they give you is priceless. As they answer in a serious voice, “Can you be more specific?” your eyes narrow and you try to remain calm. “If I could be more specific I wouldn’t be asking you.” You take a deep breath and try to reason it out, “Which toys require batteries?”

Like THAT aisle isn’t long enough. Ok, so now I’m looking for a noise making toy that involves hitting. Why? Because it’s the ONLY thing on his letter for Santa. Seriously. Damn commercials. I should have never let the kids watch TV in the first place. If they didn’t watch TV, they wouldn’t know what was available. Those stupid, mindless commercials that they watch SO intently and I totally block out. I am amazed, they ignore the show only to stop, drop, and drool at the commercials. If only I had paid more attention I wouldn’t be in this dilemma. Argh. Why couldn’t he have wanted blocks?

It took me over a half hour before I finally realized, he wanted “Silly Golf,” an indoor golfing game that had little gophers that constantly chatted, and yelled when you managed to get the ball in the hole. I was so relieved, it was like finding out that the IRS had made a mistake and you didn’t owe taxes this year.

Christmas day came and he was delighted. You’d have thought Santa just got him a scholarship to Yale, or maybe chocolate. Batteries intact he played for hours. For hours we listened to the stupid little gopher chatter. About three weeks later, we were all thrilled when he was no longer obsessed. It moved to his bedroom, later it was sent to the basement. Finally it made it to the trash, several pieces missing, but still talking. I sneaked it into the garbage and felt slightly guilty as we walked by the garbage can and a little voice peeped, “Hey it’s dark in here, somebody turn on the lights.”

Still, the next Christmas, Michael remembered that Santa would bring him exactly what he wanted. And Santa did. Again.

It's science fair time again....

Those words invoke fear into my heart, not so much because I have to organize the whole thing for school, but rather that I have to listen to the whining of my children as I shoot down one irrational idea after another.  Sure, I do hot lunch, but I also do science.  I can't stand bad science.  So, my daughter is excited to see if the blind spot changes with age and is shot down with the question, "And HOW will this improve the world?"  Hey, we all have blind spot, but our brain fills in the missing data, so really no point in studying it.  Dang.  My mom never was this harsh.  If I said I was building a nuclear warhead, she'd nod patiently and add, "Don't make a mess."  Of course, I never did build the warhead.  Instead I threw something together about candles creating more carbon than flashlights the night before the fair.  And no, I never did with the science fair. 

On the plus side, my kids all understood why Al Gore was an idiot undeserving of any prize, other than "Most Able to Hype."  They at least understand how to set up a controlled experiment, how to read data without putting your own personal spin on it.  I should really write a letter to Al's mom... 

I want good science. So my children (and my students) are stuck with a mom and teacher who refuses to allow them to compare Duracells to Evereadys, see which tastes better, or if blind spots are affected by age.  Let the games begin!

Thanksgiving Breasts

Admittedly Thanksgiving usually brings extended families together, sometimes for the first time in a year.  You are more likely to notice that you're uncle has lost more hair, your cousin quit smoking and gained twenty pounds.  Of course, being polite, we never mention these things.  But, may I ask you, what do you say when you're cousin shows up with D-cups, and last year she was an A? 

I'm thinking that the five grand she borrowed from Aunt Mary probably never did make it to remove her wisdom teeth, or maybe that procedure has changed since I had it done.  Really, how does one handle this?  You know we are all stunned at the change in appearance, do you pretend it hasn't happened or do you comment.  Wow D, you look like a younger Dolly Parton!  I often wonder when people have cosmetic breast enhancement, do they realize they will have everyone they know staring at their boobs, speechless?  And probably not in a good way.  Talk about awkward. 


It's her choice, it's her body, but that doesn't mean we won't be laughing about this until New Years.  At least my sister is happy that this will be our favorite Thanksgiving story and the one involving her might finally be put to rest.  I doubt it though, she accidently left the turkey in her car overnight on a 60 degree night so then she had to find a new turkey on Thanksgiving day that wasn't frozen and ended up coming to my folks with two 16 pound turkeys instead of the 27 pound turkey my mom had entrusted her with two days before.  Hey, at least she didn't kill us with Salmonella though...  That 27 pound turkey had some breasts on it too...

Happy Thanksgiving

So you're spending the day with your family...  Let me know how that goes.

So we went to a Daughtry concert last night...

Actually we went to see Theory of a Deadman and CAVO was the opening act. CAVO was great; the lead singer has an amazing voice. Their entire set was super, I was really surprised, since I really like rock, and I was expecting their songs to be more, I guess pop? But they were awesome, and the lead singer can belt it out, not Freddy Mercury, but his own style which really rocks. We were all psyched up for Theory of a Deadman. It was disappointing, however. Apparently the lead singer is a relative of mine on the Doyle side, following our motto if you don’t sing well, sing loud. So I should have figured when they wheeled out the ridiculously huge speakers, this being after CAVO completed their set that something was up. In their tribute to Nigel Tufnel they had the sound cranked up to eleven. Even with my ear plugs in, I could hear Tyler Connolly having a hard time staying on key. My son turned to me, grimacing, “They sound bad.” My husband assured me that if we were sitting elsewhere, it would have sounded better. Truthfully, the band sounded great, it was the singing that was very surprising. After singing along with him in the car countless times, it was hard to believe this is the same guy singing By The Way on my cd.  If Simon were there, I think he would have unplugged his mike. On the upside, these boys don’t lip sync…

What added to the ridiculousness was Connolly's pick-tossing.  In a movement I can only describe as "Johnny Bravo-like" he tossed about 3 picks out to the crowd per song.  Nice gesture I guess, but super cheesy.  I expected him to wink and snap his fingers at each and every one of us.  Ugh.

How was Daughtry? I guess you could say flawless. He’s not exactly my style, but my daughter thought he was great.

My son broke the elevator.

Sure, your son won first prize at the science fair, my kid broke the elevator.  I'm not sure the exact physics of a scrawny ten-year-old able to overcome the power of a hydraulic elevator able to carry a half ton; but hey, in this world of political correctness I have a feeling if you breathed hard on the door it would go into a protective coma and shut down.  Because according to my son, he did not apply enough force to stop the door from opening.  Obviously he did.  Or maybe his breath really is that bad...

Looking for a good read...

Face it, Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  You've got a long car drive ahead of you, one adolescent with their earbuds plugged in listening to music that you're not sure really is appropriate at all.  But really, do they know what those words mean?  Can they even understand them?  Your adorable son is giving you the play by play action of Call of Duty Modern Warefare 2.  Your husband is listening to NPR, face it, you're in hell.  What you need is something fun to read, and Janet Evanovich isn't coming out with her new book until March 2010.  Argh.  So, I suggest The Apple, written by yours truly.  It's super cheap, super fun and available at amazon.com and ebooks.  For $2.00 you can giggle your way through traffic.  You deserve it.  You've got that yucky green bean casserole waiting for you, and the judgemental aunt who will comment when you take a piece of both apple and pumpkin pie.

http://www.mobipocket.com/EN/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=204465

http://www.amazon.com/The-Apple-ebook/dp/B002GU6GKA

Let me know if you liked it.  If you didn't, well, I'm sorry.  I'd still like to hear from you:)

Hot Lunch Mamas

You know you are out there, post Erma Bombeck fans, waiting for someone to offer sage advice on how to deal with the sticky reality of day to day life. My God, when we agreed in good times in bad, did we realize the amount of laundry that actually meant. By the way, how many of you find the label "wrinkle resistant" to be a synonym for 100% cotton.

Come join me on a journey through the ridiculousness of life, raising children and aging.