Say What? the next edition

New "Things I Never Thought I'd Hear"

Hey, Mom. I'm playing basketball like a Samurai Warrior [would]!

And the gaming systems aren't even in use.

We should call my son Adonis...

I'm seriously considering changing Tiger's Eye's moniker. It should be Adonis.

Adonis is a good-looking guy. He wears glasses, but he's a cutie. It just amazes me that he's not drop-dead gorgeous, yet, everywhere we go, the ladies gravitate to him.

Tonight it was Moto Mart. I had to go play with the soda machine with the fancy buttons. It's now a compulsion. She was about 5'6", slender yet curvy, her skin reminiscent of Dove dark chocolate and her hair in soft curls with strips of red.

She didn't corner him; she asked, benignly, if he had an older brother named Patrick. An obvious farce, I might add, since her father, who was there, rolled his eyes. Interestingly, the father kept going back for another purchase, shooing us ahead in line, giving his daughter more time to converse. She spoke to the cashier, very loudly, claiming her job was going well and her place of employment was a fast-food restaurant with multiple locations, but she made sure to specify which one.

It's so gratifying to know that Adonis radiates charm like that, just a good, clean kid with a nice, pleasant face, huge blueberry eyes showcased by wire frames.

More amazing yet, it didn't even fluster him to where he left the 12-pack on top of the car again.

ManCub is notorious for "forgetting" homework. I received a call and e-mail from his English teacher. So enthusiastic was my conversation with him that he finished all his back work, and fast. He also is notorious for not reading instructions...and finished 25 journal entries, when he only needed 4 (four/quatro). Heh heh. Lesson learned? I doubt it, but I find it poetically just.

KitKat has yet another completed project that her teacher wishes to keep and model. I'm making a web page for it. It's really quite lovely and such an ego booster for her. She's driven, as always, and I'm quite proud. I will post that lovely project when I can.

KitKat and Tiara Girl, ManCub

This is a companion post for the last entry. I looked at the pics I took and, low and behold, Tiara Girl and KitKat shared a photograph. Oh, yeah. Interesting, indeed.



You've seen me post about my neighbor lady before, our neighborhood earthquake expert, Big E's great-grandmother, before, and here she is in all of her 45-pound-soaking-wet glory, with ManCub:
She had a cane with her, which she kept leaving on the floor. Her daughter picked it up and said, "Ain't this her cane?" I broke in and said, "Why do I get the feeling that she waves it around at more folks than she actually uses it to walk?"

She got a good laugh from that and confirmed my hunch. This little lady kept our bus stop corner organized for all six years Big E and ManCub have waited there. She's not mean, but she's got "the look" that most mothers would just die to master. I can see her punctuating her conversations, ala Yoda, with the tip of the cane, used more to direct the orchestra of her life as well as help her get through it, still on her own two feet.

Emotional milestones

Today, I hit an emotional milestone.

ManCub's 6th grade recognition was this morning. For 10 years, I have been part of that school, from Tiger's Eye attending from 1st grade until today, when my youngest is now ready to go to junior high.

I no longer have a child in K-6. It's sobering.

Ms. V, who has been a part of ManCub's IEP and structured school planning, made a slide show of all the 6th graders, some pics from 1st grade. Wow. It looped through three times, each time more enjoyable than the first, while waiting for the actual ceremony to begin. It started 15 minutes late, but the Spaghetti Factory pictures, one for each kid, noodles hanging from their mouths (Ms. V wanted us to know for certain it was staged), made us laugh.

It's amazing.

As each picture popped up, a parent, guardian, or relative hollered out to claim him or her. I couldn't believe how many people said, "Oh, it's ManCub!" Another parent answered, "Yeah, he's always in red. That's before the hair."

My trademark Cardinals fan. It's hard to remember what he's worn for the week because everything he owns is Cardinals red or has a Cardinals logo on it.

The gentleman behind me saw the picture of ManCub with a bat and turned to his family member.

"Oh, that's that great kid I told you about at the game. He's a huge Cardinals fan. He didn't give me any trouble the whole time we were there."

The 6th grade patrol took a tour of Busch stadium and then stayed for a game that should've been rained out, but stayed on schedule.

I turned around and said, "Hey, he's mine!"

"What a kid," he said. "I only had to yell at him five times."

My face drew up a bit.

He patted my arm. "Just kidding. He stayed close and absorbed the game. Couldn't ask for a better kid."

Nope, I can't. I saw all the kids sitting together. They'll still be together next year, all going to the same junior high. I can't wait to see how they grow and branch out.

I came home and took a nap.

Then...

KitKat graduated from 8th grade, from the same school ManCub's going to next year, the same one Tiger's Eye left two years ago. She let me put makeup on her. She joked that she's never going to have to learn how to do it because Boo, Squitch, and I have it covered. I put her eyes in shades of green. She wouldn't let me put mascara on her. Her eyes are actually quite oriental in structure, and she must sit with her eyes closed while the mascara dries or it ends up in her eyebrows. Yes, her eyebrows. Not only that, she doesn't like the way it feels on her glasses.

Yeah, we should all be so lucky.

She looked gorgeous. But, you know what the most amazing thing is? I primped her, face only. She got out of the shower and let her hair go. She wore clothes like any other day. I love that about her. She's the ultimate come-as-you-are person, and she goes as is. She's my shy one when it comes to conversation, but she's the bold one when it comes to "if you don't like it, don't look."

One of her classmates wore a tiara. I saw it, she saw it, and we looked at each other and made a "pfft" noise. That made about as much sense as the kids coming to the 8th grade graduation dance in limousines. Pfft.

I looked at her friends tonight. They're all so similar in personality. Two of them, a set of twins, love to play around with hair color. Their older sister, Tiger's Eye's good friend, is the same way, but it's not vanity; it's personality. Their mom buys Kool-Aid mostly for the temporary color washes! I sat with their mom. She's a lot like me in personality, and she fights the big battles and lets the small ones go. Most moms would throw fits if their kids turned their hair pink on a whim, but she'd rather them be goofy with their hair rather than sneak out of the house and change clothes. In a house with four females, I think they spend hours over a sink or in the beverage aisle, quality time. These girls (and their mom) are so much fun. Their mom didn't care for the tiara either.

One of KitKat's friends delivered a class speech. In stark contrast to two years ago, at Tiger's Eye's 8th grade graduation, this girl was genuine. She spoke honestly with not a single word clouded by theatrics or just the desire to be a perky, fantastic orator. We have a perky meter system, 0-10. RJ's classmates registered 16. I swear, the girls bounced! Jazz's voice carried well and was totally appropriate for 8th grade. One of KitKat's other friends sang the national anthem. She wore no makeup. Neither did Jazz or KitKat's other good friend.

There's no pretense with these young women. They're not trying to grow up fast at all. Most of them love to read and socialize, and all think their parents are pretty okay people to hug in public and hang on. KitKat has benefited from each one of them. It's so nice to go pick up a kid from a school function and still see 13- and 14-year-olds rushing out to grab their parents, hug them, and drag them back to meet a friend or 15. There's an unspoken bonus to the parents who can tell the twins apart (I can when they're together) and remember the names at least 90% of the time.

I have three great kids. Somewhere, God rewarded me for something. I know I fuss about the homework (or them not getting it done) or surprise projects or surprise school events, but my kids are people that other families remember. Tiger's Eye was asked about by the elementary teachers and the coach mentioned how great he was to volunteer his time, assisting him with basketball drills and practice, a 16-year-old loving the sport and activity more than being perceived as hanging out with a bunch of 6th graders.

I still can't get over the tiara but, in the same turn, she was the only one wearing one, and she wore it proudly until she left. Maybe I'll give her the benefit of the doubt on this one. Maybe she's like KitKat in that she's secure enough to do something totally and completely different.

We have a great school system. They turn out great kids, who make parents look good.

Does this take up 1000 words?

In the absence of anything to blog (other than my KitKat will be 14 Monday and is going to her first cosplay with a little sailor suit and silver hair), I assume that if I find a picture that's worth 1000 words, since I have none (well, Mr. Purr caught a mouse, loved it to death, and left it in the kitchen for ManCub to step on), I'll post it because I really have nothing to say (except Tiger's Eye thinks making Mom hurt her neck in the busy Aldi parking lot to ensure that no cars are coming while HE'S driving is amusing).


see more crazy cat pics

St. George, do you have a brother? For the snot monsters?

I'm learning that there are different types of snot monsters in this world. All snot monsters are not the same, nor are they created equally.

Mine is the lazy kind from Snot Monsters, Inc. She lets me feel really good for a few hours and then figures she's on the clock and better make it look like she's doing something, so she whaps me over the head and forces me back to bed for a while. I don't like her very much. She gives me a false sense of feeling better and then yanks the rug from under me. She's manipulative, too. She lets me think that one type of medicine is the cure-all, then decides she's stronger than the cold medicine the second time around. She's also a thief and violator of the space-time continuum. My earnings for the week are dwindling, no matter how much effort or hours I think I'm putting into it.

My husband's was just the opposite. He's a full-time employee, efficient, and apparently is due for a raise. One blow and he put Mr. Sapphire down for the count, but only for a day. He then moved on to pester someone else, leaving only a few irritating effects of his stay.

Tiger's Eye has a nomadic snot monster. He comes and goes. He's been pestering the poor kid for a month, riding into town, all guns blazing, and then he takes off again after a day or two. We are using megadoses of vitamin C. We hope it's like garlic to vampires.

ManCub's was the regular Joe employee at Snot Monsters, Inc. He came, did his job, worked half-heartedly, didn't cause too much of a stir, and only managed to keep ManCub home from school for one day. ManCub refused to be beaten by the Snot Monster and kicked him out of his life. We liked this snot monster. If you have to have a snot monster, I think this would be the one we'd invite back. Sad but true.

KitKat has the most insidious, rotten, evil snot monster I've ever encountered. This one takes over her voice and uses it to vent every piece of vitriol in her arsenal. She's vicious, daring me and taunting me, making KitKat demand that I rid her of the beast before ISAT testing next week. The vitamin C doesn't seem to be working; I guess the next steps are crosses and a good priest for exorcism. She allows KitKat all day without a cough, but as soon as she lies flat, the coughing begins. She won't let KitKat sleep and, as we all know, KitKat needs sleep. I'm afraid to wake her up in the morning because the snot monster only allows KitKat to fall asleep at 6:30 and someone (I've been chicken and sending her brothers) wakes her up and the snot monster helps KitKat send them downstairs, shaking, and informing me that the creature has risen from her vault, bringing KitKat with her, and to be ready. She's immune to medicine and makes KitKat's throat too small to accommodate pills, anyway.

I'm a stock market idiot. Does it make more sense to invest in the company that sells cold products or in the individual product, itself?

He's driving...I need a brown paper sack.

Brown Paper Sack moments:

Tiger's Eye put the car in drive.

He drove in traffic. He ran over every theoretically parked car because he doesn't like driving close to the yellow line. ManCub also chants our new mantra: "Scoot over. Middle. Get in the middle."

He drove 45 miles an hour. Even in the middle of the road, it felt like we were at Bonneville Speedway.

Him: "Which lane do we take?"

Me: "You need to get in the right-sided left-hand lane."

Him: "So, right, right?"

Me: "No, there are four lanes. Two are for turning left. You want to get into the right-sided left-turn..."

Him: "Ha ha ha. Gotcha."

He parked in a virtually empty lot. I took a breather, wondered how much some Johnny Walker costs at the supermarket next door, realized I can't drive impaired while he's driving, and settled for Mountain Dew.

He unparked.

We entered a busier-than-heck Wal-Mart parking lot.

Him: "Where do I park?"

Me: "Pick a spot, but take it slow."

Him: "I found it!"

He pulls into the slot straight across from where the lane ends, i.e., he pulls straight in.

Him: "Easy."

Me: "Yeah, but getting out's going to be a real...bear."

And so it was. But, with patience, and waiting for half the parking lot to leave, we had success.

He drove to Gasmart. I told him to park wherever in the virtually empty lot, where all he has to do is like he did at Wal-Mart, pull straight in.

"Take this one," I said. "Okay, I guess take both."

He tried to park in the carport. I kicked him out of the driver's spot when the car sat half parallel yet half perpendicular and 2" away from the fence.

Refills of Ativan? $1. Having Ativan to help forget you're a control freak with a son who's growing up and trying to be free? Priceless.

Things I never dreamt I'd say - 2

"I'm reconstructing the Roman empire out of papier mache tonight."

Islands are a real pain, did you know that?

Pointless, but fun.

ManCub

http://www.myheritage.com/collage

Meet them, one by one...the nimrods also stalk here.

New site for the website, new blog feed: Club Nimrod, now with pages for each nimrod.

For more, please visit sapphiretigress.com

Option #2, Madame Gazelle?

It comes to the point where you think people have two options...click here.

Meet Club Nimrod.

Click on the title to meet my goofy Club Nimrod. :)

Dude, it's the Thursday spelling test thing...again!

Click the title to take you to the blog at sapphiretigress.com. Thanks!

Hormones...and not mine, believe it or not!

Moody, moody, moody. KitKat's 4th grade teacher told her that, as her body changes, it could make her moody, and it was normal. She often likes to point that out to me when she's swinging mood-wise, and that it's a documented fact that a body going through changes like hers instigates this kind of reaction. Okay. I agree with that. Sometimes.

Mornings around here are usually pretty mundane. The kids are very much able to select their own clothes, eat what they want for breakfast (or look at the school menu and see if they have a preference), and get all cleaned up. I like to be up with them but, if it's been a long night, I have the option of directing traffic from my bed. Tiger's Eye, my eldest, does an amazing job at setting his alarm clock. He taps the other two on the shoulders and everyone goes in motion.

Just one problem. KitKat now insists that she be woken at 7:30 a.m., and not a minute before. Obviously, being the responsible child who she is, she knows well her necessary prep time (this kind of sounds like a cooking show). She's never late, but you violate this code (it's only been in place for about a week) and the claws come out! I noted last week that she ran late, and I went upstairs...

This needs prefaced a bit. Of course, that morning included a pep rally at Tiger's Eye school at 6:30 a.m. (it was televised), so I went up the stairs to wake him for that. I woke ManCub at the same time, who came downstairs, because I feared he would wake while I was gone and freak out because I wasn't there. So far, so good. We got halfway to the school and realized Tiger's Eye left his school I.D. at home, and turned around. He ran inside to get it, but couldn't get the lock to turn, so I got out and turned the lock and he went inside a few steps, grabbed his I.D. and came back out. We hopped back into the van and went back to the school.

When I returned, ManCub came downstairs, shaking like a leaf! He hugged me tremulously and told me someone had been in the house! They made all kinds of noise at the door, like they were trying to break the lock, and actually came into the kitchen, so he ran upstairs! After thinking about it, I realized that Tiger's Eye and I had made quite a bit of noise at the door earlier and explained that to him, and pointed out that I left Alex, the sacred dog and canine guardian of my children, with him and Alex would never let anything happen to him. It really spooked him, so I told him to go sit down and take some deep breaths while I woke KitKat.

That's when KitKat set the 7:30 a.m. rule.

She snarled at me! With wide eyes, I reminded her that it was time to get up. She informed me that "all morning long, people have been banging and stomping. I can't get a good night's sleep around here! You wake me up at 7:30, and I don't mean a minute before!"

I usually try humor to diffuse situations like this, but I reminded her that her tone was quite disrespectful, but I did understand and there were a lot of noises, but that's just the way it was that morning. She reclined and I think I heard a snore before her head hit the pillow.

Now, we toss a coin to see who has the privilege of provoking that bear from her lair. Tiger's Eye takes the easy way out, calling to her from the bottom of the stairs, nowhere near loud enough to get her attention, but, in the same turn, evading her wrath.

This morning, 7:15 came. Tiger's Eye called (wimpy, too, I might add). He called again. At 7:25, I asked if she came down on her own accord (hoping...hoping...) Shoot no, she needed someone to physically go upstairs.

"If I don't make it, I love you," I told Tiger's Eye as I took the task.

Cautiously, I glanced at the clock. Her clock runs a bit fast, and it read 7:46. Phew. I called to her from the door.

"KitKat? It's time to get up."

She sat bolt upright and I swear I saw something spark in her eyes, but she gave me the benefit of the doubt. Her head whipped around and the looked at the clock.

"Oh. I must be cloudy in the head this morning."

With a sigh of profound relief, I went downstairs.

"You made it," Tiger's Eye said.

"Yeah," I said.

"I wasn't going to help you if you needed some."

Thank you, my son, the child who has been with me the longest.

KitKat, being the last to leave, just left, and I write this. She's wearing a beautiful sunny yellow shirt with her hair put up in clip from underneath, letting all that golden hair spill over the clasp. This is a drastic change from the same girl I woke up last week. Once up, she's as cheerful and pleasant as a child can be, but, man-oh-man, just don't wake her before 7:30 a.m.

REJECTION!

I told you I had a rejection notice to my name! I'm excited about it, believe it or not, and chagrined simultaneously. You see, I send my book in with exceeding caution - my first manuscript, my first brave attempt at publishing. This is what I got:


Isn't it lovely? My sister-in-law pointed out how many times they use variants of the root word "reject." Unfortunately, this is what you get when they don't even get you a chance. They didn't even move the first page! I did everything right. I read over their submission requirements many times but...

get this...

I didn't address it to the editor.

::smacks head::

I'm just hoping I'm not in a computer system that has a pop-up window with IDIOT on it in blazing letters for when I submit again. I have to finish Ice Queen, and then I'll keep Red Watzana on reserve. I need to get back to Twisted, and I have yet another book swirling around in my head--in addition to the 10+ other books for which I've created a world/setting and need to take the characters in an appropriate direction.

I always worry that I'll run out of ideas, but that has never happened. I always have something running in the background, kind of like a computer monitoring program. It's rather interesting. KitKat hits write mode often, too. If we're in the car, we both get very, very quiet. I look at her; she looks at me. "What you doing?" I ask her. "Writing," she replies. "Me, too," I reply.

She carries a notebook with her often and outlines her books. She learned a new word, "novella," and has applied it to her books. Isn't that cute????

ManCub, too, is starting to understand why we do weird things like spending life with a bunch of characters only known to you hold conversations in your mind and typing what they say to you. The other night, he had to make a story with spelling words, and he got so into it that it required an extra page! Woo hoo! This is not something he normally does, but he claimed "I got into it." Proud mom moment there, no doubt!

Now, we just have to convert Tiger's Eye to the cult...

ManCub

This is Man Cub. As you can tell, he is not a big fan of picture taking. This is a horrible picture of him, but it's taken on the first day of school like the other two siblings, so this is going to have to do. Maybe he'll see this and give me a better pic!

He's by far my most challenging child. His brain is not wired like everyone elses', and putting things in terms he can understand is not always easy, but he eventually gets it. If you can combine the concept with baseball, you have a good shot of driving the thought home. When we needed to practice five-paragraph essays, for example, we outlined a piece for Albert Pujols, and it seemed to click. Opening paragraph, three supporting paragraphs, and then closing paragraph. Tell me why Pujols is the greatest player alive, compare his stats to other greats, tell about how how hard he worked to get to the majors, list his current stats for the year, and reiterate your opinion that, indeed, Albert Pujols is the most awesome player on the face of the planet. Don't make it an opinion; make it fact and prove it in your writing. My Man Cub does very well with math and concepts, but reading comprehension and writing skills really need work, but he is now mainstreamed in regular classes.

This cub has an amazing talent: Baseball cards and stats. Out of about 1000 cards, I can pull one out, show him the picture on the front, and he spouts all kinds of knowledge while I look at the card's back and just gape. We try to encourage him to put them away in a safe place, but they truly belong in his hands. He creates games with them, selecting his teammates like a fantasy league. Then, he mentally actually plays a 9-inning game! Reality is finally dawning; he knows now that he probably will never be in the major leagues, but with his knowledge of statistics and passion for the sport, perhaps there is a future in sports journalism for him. He doesn't talk much, but when he's going through his fantasy games, he calls the entire game. Speaking of which, I probably should find a score sheet template and print him out one for each game. Actually, that's a very, very good idea! I try to encourage this activity, because I think it's a healthy obsession, and it's making him reevaluate his writing skills. That's something that needs work; ergo, that's why we checked some college requirements, and found out that our local high school offers intro to journalism classes, so he might be able to get a dry run and see if he wants to go that route or not. Any way Man Cub chooses, though, will take so much effort, but the rewards for him will be so fantastic!