contemplation

So I've been thinking, yes it hurt, about writing down all of the hilariousness that spews forth from The Girl Child's mouth. The problem with that is that as soon as it's published she'll say some more funny things and I'll wish that they were in it too. So maybe i should just keep collecting those gems and wait till she's a snarky teenager and then embarrass the crap out of her by publishing it then.

Your thoughts?


Also maybe I might have been contemplating turning this here sucker into a food blog, seeing as I've become ever more reclusive and there's only so much a hermit can actually write about.

Here's my first installment- Recipe for toast

1- get a toaster
2- plug in said toaster
3- put bread, any variety you'd like
4-push down the toaster button
5-wait
6-put cooked toast on a plate
7-top with butter, jam, nutella or other topping of chioce
8-eat

back from hiatus and an actual conversation

Roofs leak, girl's camp meetings must be attended, I run an orphanage, and mommas visit. What can I say- life happens, and the first thing to go is luxury time, sorry for the silence.


My mother's day gift form Girl Child? Laughter, oh and toast in bed- crumbs brushed over to Schroedad's side of course.

In sacrament meeting on Mother's day the primary children always sing, Girl Child got all the way to the stairs this year before skittering back- a record.

Actual Conversation prior to the meeting's start

Smarty Pants: Are you going to go up there and sing to me this year?

Girl Child: Ok, but only if you promise to cry (after a lengthy pause for consideration I might add).

actual conversation: children's television programs

I have a random question. What would happen if a preschool aged girl and her pet went wandering off in the forest? In real life DCFS would be all over that, but on Nickelodeon it's ok.

I can just imagine it now... An Amber alert has been issued for a 'Dora Explorer' who was last seen with her pet monkey 'Boots'. Mr. & Mrs. Explorer have issued the following statement
"We're not overly concerned, she goes on adventures like this all of the time. She has survival gear inside of her backpack, as well as a GPS like map. She'll be home around dark".






I'll bet you're wondering what brought all this philosophizing about, it was a conversation The Girl Child and I had a few years ago that I wrote about in my "for Em journal"- it went like this:

Smarty Pants: Umm, where are you going, and why do you have a back pack and Ducky?

Girl Child: On a adventure.

Smarty Pants: Oh, I see. Where is your adventure going to be?

Girl Child: Where ever it happens, mostly outside though.

Smarty Pants: Ok- but don't go out front alone.

Girl Child: Mom, do I have to stay in the back yard? Dora never takes her mom.

Smarty Pants: Dora also has a pet monkey, and a talking map, so yes- the yard it is.

Girl Child: Real life isn't as fun as cartoon life.

the snapshot that ruined her night

And here I was thinking that she spent hours reading
too bad the camera woke her up and she had to read for another half-hour to get back to sleep
Bad Mommy

actual conversation: sick edition

There is really no need for a preface for the hilariousness you are about to read, other than empty your bladder first.

Girl Child: Mom, that humiliator really worked last night. I didn't cough all night, but my nose was a little stuffy.

Smarty Pants: You mean the humidifier?

Girl Child: Yeah humiliator, humidifier- whatever, it's all the same

Smarty Pants: peed pants

actual conversation: house of horrors edition

Have you ever seen that show hoarders? It is an instant anxiety attack in a box for me, and every time we go to my in-law's house it's on. I find myself standing in front of the tv with my hands clapped over my mouth gasping, horrified by all of the crap inside one house. I find myself asking, how did her family-who lives inside the house- let this happen? Why don't they just send her out of town and have a giant yard sale or get a dumpster for the weekend?

My mother-in-law tries to calmly explain to me that it's an illness, and they just can't help it. And, while I am perfectly aware of, and considerate towards, mental illnesses I just can't see how it physically happens.

I have a husband and daughter with slightly hoard-ish tendencies, and as much as I love them, our house will never look like that. It just can't- I'd be in a mental institution. So one day, after visiting, I was talking to Girl Child about it, and the following conversation ensued.

Smarty Pants: Aren't you glad you learned how to keep your room clean?

Girl Child: I'm mostly glad that I got my ears pierced, but yeah I like my room clean too I guess.

Smarty Pants: How do you think you'd feel if we lived in a messy house like what's on tv

Girl Child: Well, it'd be ok, but I'd worry if someone tried to rob us.

Smarty Pants: What do you mean?

Girl Child: Well, we don't really have anything worth taking right now, so no one wants to rob us now... but if we got lots of stuff someone might want to steal it.

And the 8 year old does it again- zing.

why is it?

Why is it that I get more accomplished on days when I have 97 thousand things to get done, and less on those days when I'm not over scheduled and half past crazy? And while we're on the subject, why is it that one day the Girl Child suddenly wakes up with sass in her pants, where there was only sweet and nice before? Why is it that my dog only barfs inside the house? Do you know?

Maybe it's because she sleeps like this.

wish granted

Remember this post? The one about my love for these books.

That's what I got for Christmas from my momma. They were on sale, and free shipping, and I'm the luckiest girl on earth. I've already read 2 of them, and my own Girl Child is begging to read the one which bears her own name. I can't yet decide which is my favorite.

It made me think of the movies that have been made of these classic stories, the old versions and the new (clueless doesn't really count though- since it was set modernly and the story irreparably altered, and really step siblings- that's just yucky). I realized that I can't help but have the quality of the movie hold some bearing on which is my favorite story. Sad I know. But Even when I've read them all I still don't know if I could choose a favorite- can there be an 8 way tie?

Christmas decorating- Charlie Brown edition

When we first got married, we found a great deal on a fake tree. It was pre-lit and 6.5 feet tall. I loved that tree. Unfortunately it didn't love us- the lights on the top third went out, and then the middle section went out. Being the smart people we are, we promptly returned it and asked to switch it for a non broken one. A week before Christmas.

Too bad for us the Costco was actually out of trees, and had been for weeks. I already said we were Smart, as my moniker would lead you to believe.

So I was a sad and, honestly a little miffed, Smarty Pants that year. Lucky me I have a Schroesanta- who swooped in and saved the day. He found a little tree-after he checked all the stores and even the tree lots, and came up empty. It's a Charlie Brown tree if ever there was one. Judge for yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you. The best part is that on the box, next to the made in China stamp, it said "shinny tree". seriously. It's a running joke now.

Without further ado, I give you the shinny tree

She's a beaut, isn't she. I especially love the 6 inch gap between the bottom and middle sections.
Nice right?

Some how, though, I just can't part with the ugly little bugger. He's grown on me. and The Girl Child did an exceptional job of decorating it this year. She required 'no assistance' this year please. So Schroedad and I just watched, and congratulated her at the appropriate moments, and scratched backs while she did all of the hard work. I think I like that new tradition.

things I learned while traveling

There are few things that make me cringe more than the words traveling during the holidays. One of them is:4 hour layover, at the McCarran Airport in Las Vegas, NV.

I've come to know that the McCarran airport is literally hell on earth, my version anyway. And the spirit whispered to me it is true.

I have a simple math problem to prove it.

What do you get when you add
1. a wall of glass, untinted, so that lets the maximum amount of retina burning sunshine glare off of the tarmac in.

2.lots of nice airplanes (but never the one that takes you home) flashing by, making the light appear to have a strobe light effect.

3. slot machines, lots and lots of them. All ringing and dinging without stop.

Add all of this together, for 4 mind numbing hours, and it's a seizure waiting to happen, or a nasty migraine in my case.

It's a good thing The Girl Child is such a seasoned traveler, and aware of the rules of traveling. She made the whole experience better with her budding sense of humor, and her mother's snarcastic view on things. Take for example the following conversation.

Schroedad: That lady sitting across from you was totally sizing you up.

Smarty Pants: I didn't notice, I was over here trying not to yak. (see above)

Schroedad: She kept looking at her ring. It was huge.

Smarty Pants: Maybe they just got married here, and she's getting used to it.

Schroedad: Nope, I was listening while I was doing my crossword, and they have kids.

Girl Child- interrupting: So you were eavesdropping?

Schroedad: Yup.

Girl Child: I hear that's rude these days

Perfect comedic timing from the 8 year old.

What- did you think I'd actually post whilst on vacation?

Well, if you did, you're right.

I'll sneak a quick recap in for all of you who are just dying to know exactly what there is to do in northern Illinois. Short answer: a whole lotta nothing. Unless you count tornado warnings, tornado sightings and The Girl Child freaking out in the basement, then, it's something.

That tornado day, that was probably the most eventful day of the whole trip. Other than that, playing nertz, boot and glove aka hand foot and mouth, whoonu, and a million other games, eating, lots and lots of eating- really good things, too. Oh and movies, lots of movies. I love Thanksgiving, I love a whole week of Thanksgiving even more.

a letter

Dear Schroedad,

I must tell you, that while I am so excited about our trip that I almost can't sleep, I'm also feeling a strange something or other. I don't think I'm hungry, definitely not gassy, just nervous- I think. You see, I've been having strange dreams wherein my beloved child gets kidnapped, or we all get kidnapped, oh, has it been rather exhausting for all the sleep it has involved, and do you realize that we are traveling through some very busy airports?

I know it's such a silly thing, worried over randomly strange stories that run through my head in the night time hours. Especially since the Girl Child, really, is a more seasoned traveler than most kids her age, or your age for that matter, but still- these dreams are freaking me out.

So getting to the point of this whole letterly public display of nervousness, keep an extra close eye on the strange-ish people at the airport for me, please?

Love,
Smarty pants

actual conversation

Mischief & Sass- that's what those eyes are planning

When The Girl Child was 3 she cut her own hair, her long beautiful almost to her behind, hair. She gave herself what could only be described as a mullet, a very long in the back/short in the front, mullet.

She chopped the sides of her hair, and there was nothing to be done but give her the little pixie hair cut. You know the kind- it's so cute, but only while it's that length. Once it starts growing out it's not so much cute, as it is scraggly.

Upon talking to her about hair cutting, this conversation actually took place.

Smarty Pants: Em, only people who've been cutting hair for a long time, and have gone to school and practiced, can cut hair.

The Girl Child: But mom, I've been practicing my whole life.

Now imagine it with a darling little lisp, that 'practicing' sounds a whole lot cuter- but doesn't it?

There was nothing to do but giggle, while trying to keep a straight face. I didn't succeed. She cut her own hair a few more times after that, although never so drastically.

We finally got her to stop by telling her if she did it again, she'd have to get her hair cut like Daddy's. She wasn't in love with the idea of the buzzer with the #2 guard on it coming at her head. I'm really glad too, that would have been awful to follow through on.

questions with no answers

I have some questions, but no one- not even my mom- has the answers.

Questions like- Why is barf always red, stain your carpets, takes 5 cleanings to get it out, red?

And how is it, if you are the unfortunate victim of getting barfed on, your outer layer of clothes stays relatively clean-ish, and you end up with you underwear, unexplainably, full?

How does every illness that the Girl Child catches- ends up falling on a holiday?
thankfully here in mecca we celebrated said holiday on saturday is all I have to say.

Why is it that barf always starts in the middle of the night- right during my prime sleep hours, does it know how to tell time?

Can you guess what I was doing at 1:30 this morning?

*a better post, and pictures of the ipod costume to come- when the barf leaves. over and out

not in the literal sense

I've been worrying for more than a week. Sick in my stomach, can't think of anything else- but don't want to think of 'it' kind of worrying.

It was hinted that (potentially) The Girl Child had bipolar disorder. So many of the symptoms fit, stupid red-flag check list. A few weren't quite right, though. I've been going crazy waiting for, and dreading, the appointment- the one that I was expecting would doom us to a lifetime of medications and I don't know what else.

I've seen bipolar disorder, and it's so hard to watch. The spiraling depression, the loss of control. I didn't want that for The Girl- a burden too hard to bear.

Turns out it was nothing of the sort- thank heavens for professionals, is all I have to say. Abandonment fears, and separation anxiety. Totally treatable, and fixable, and disgustingly easy when compared to the alternative.

Turns out I'm not barmy after all, well not in the literal sense anyway.

actual conversation

Emma, contemplating eating a not-quite-ripe apple. Decided against it- to avoid getting her dress dirty. Priorities

Emma: Mom- can we move back to Illinois? There just isn't anything that great here. I miss living by Grammy and my friends out there

Mom: Sorry Emma- there's this great thing here called dad's job- and there aren't really any jobs near Grammy.

Emma: Who needs a job- I just want to play all the time.

And that, my friends, is why we need to do a better job at teaching her about money and bills and house payments and things. One day, sooner rather than later, probably.

rosebud lips

She has the prettiest little lips I ever did smooch (sorry Schroedad- it's true), I'm one lucky mama! Thankfully she no longer gives slug-kisses, you know the kisses of a 9 month old with the tongue hanging out and drool all over the place? I'm really glad she out grew those.

false finishes

The three musketeers

The cousins are the siblings she's always wanted. They're her "BFF's forever"- somehow I think the 'BFF' was lost in translation. And they're having a sleepover in a tent in their backyard- the last of the season, also the first- but who's counting. I'm not so sure that any of them will last the whole night outside, as we've had 3 near abandonments of the tent already, we'll see.

Cautiously optimistic, that's where I stand for now.

invasion of the body snatchers

See those eyes- they keep her out of a lot of trouble- only that's the trouble you know? What do you do with a suddenly super sassy girl? I particularly liked that bit of alliteration there, it was good- no?

Why is it that whenever there is something new, like a new school year for instance, she feels this impulse to test all of the boundaries? Sorry kiddo- bed time can't be eleven o'clock at night, due to the fact that you are eight and have to go to school (I can stay up that late because I'm twenty-nine, and can maybe squeeze in an afternoon nap). No you can't have marshmallows for dinner, those vegetables are what's for dinner. Sorry darling you can't drive the car either.

I feel like all I say lately is "no, umm no, and you heard my answer, it's still no"- and I dont' really like it. Yes is such a good word- yes you can do your homework, sure feel free to tidy up your room, of course you can play- as soon as your jobs are done and yes I love you more today than I did yesterday.

I'm hoping we can settle into a routine of normalcy soon, without the sass and drama that currently invades our house like swine flu, or possibly body snatching aliens.

more bang 4 my buck

How is it that such a small fringe of hair can make such a difference?

All of a sudden she looks older- more third grade she says- I'm not so sure I like these new bang things.