more animals
It's my daughter's, too.
Showing posts with label kitkat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kitkat. Show all posts
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Monday, October 06, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Yeah, my kids are nuts.
Please understand that babies are precious, toddlers turn your lives upside down in so many wonderful ways, and elementary school kids are adorable. But the fun? The fun really starts when your kids get taller than you.
Tiger's Eye has always been fun. I taught him the fundamentals of basic addition, estimation, and general shopping math at Shop 'n Save. He learned bargaining skills. We had many an argument about the items with red tags, explaining that the red tags are great, but sometimes the trade name is still more expensive than the generic.
We have the strangest revelations in Shop 'n Save. It's just amazing what we come up with. Remember, I came out of the closet in that very store.
We had our usual fun and games through the store. When we loaded up the car, T.E. looked across from the bumper and saw an empty cart corral right across the street. With an eyebrow lifted and a hefty shove, I'll be hanged if he didn't send the cart into the stall, not even knocking the railing of the corral, from some 30 to 40 feet away, over a dip in the road, no less. I'm sure that earns points for intelligence somewhere, although I can't be completely sure. May I also remind my gentle readers that T.E. is legally blind in one eye.
A few days later, after laughing at me for being goofy and forgetting everything, we stopped at Moto Mart, where KitKat and T.E. commented on my lack of social graces and obsession with the new soda fountain, which, wow, is so COOL. It has green lights, fab buttons, four additives for energy drinks and lime and lemon! Makes my Diet Coke obsession go to all kinds of new heights.
We purchased fountain soda and a couple of 12-packs of Diet Coke. It's tricky, and the rule is that there are no fountain sodas purchased unless the Nimrod who wants the soda actually goes into the store and carries it out. Hey, I'm no octopus, three kids or not. I don't evolve quickly, apparently.
We all had something to carry out to the car. Next stop, Aldi. KitKat and I took our seats, and T.E., our erstwhile chauffer, backed up and drove in the direction of Aldi, which is about a mile from the Moto Mart. On our way out of the parking lot of Moto Mart, a chick in an SUV beeped and pointed, but she didn't appear to have a problem with us, so we shrugged and went on our way.
We stopped at the stoplight by Dairy Queen, then went on. T.E. is very cautious with left turns, waiting until there's a mile between cars before he turns, which is just fine with me. We pulled over the very big dip and got into the parking lot, and T.E. took his time and parked at least two spots away from the nearest car, just like I like when he's driving. I got out just in time to hear another driver of an SUV laughing like a nut, talking to my son.
"How did you get all the way with it up there?" he asked T.E.
On top of the car, on the driver's side, was one of my 12-packs of Diet Coke, in no different position than when we set off from Moto Mart and my son forgot to put it in the car.
He turned beet red. Please remember that, not five minutes before, they laughed at me :)
Now, I'm just waiting for KitKat to do something. She's sneaky, though. Might be a while before she admits to a mistake or I catch her in the act. Stay tuned...
Thank you, Aunt Alice, for asking me to blog something. It was great seeing you tonight and I will try to keep up better here!
Tiger's Eye has always been fun. I taught him the fundamentals of basic addition, estimation, and general shopping math at Shop 'n Save. He learned bargaining skills. We had many an argument about the items with red tags, explaining that the red tags are great, but sometimes the trade name is still more expensive than the generic.
We have the strangest revelations in Shop 'n Save. It's just amazing what we come up with. Remember, I came out of the closet in that very store.
We had our usual fun and games through the store. When we loaded up the car, T.E. looked across from the bumper and saw an empty cart corral right across the street. With an eyebrow lifted and a hefty shove, I'll be hanged if he didn't send the cart into the stall, not even knocking the railing of the corral, from some 30 to 40 feet away, over a dip in the road, no less. I'm sure that earns points for intelligence somewhere, although I can't be completely sure. May I also remind my gentle readers that T.E. is legally blind in one eye.
A few days later, after laughing at me for being goofy and forgetting everything, we stopped at Moto Mart, where KitKat and T.E. commented on my lack of social graces and obsession with the new soda fountain, which, wow, is so COOL. It has green lights, fab buttons, four additives for energy drinks and lime and lemon! Makes my Diet Coke obsession go to all kinds of new heights.
We purchased fountain soda and a couple of 12-packs of Diet Coke. It's tricky, and the rule is that there are no fountain sodas purchased unless the Nimrod who wants the soda actually goes into the store and carries it out. Hey, I'm no octopus, three kids or not. I don't evolve quickly, apparently.
We all had something to carry out to the car. Next stop, Aldi. KitKat and I took our seats, and T.E., our erstwhile chauffer, backed up and drove in the direction of Aldi, which is about a mile from the Moto Mart. On our way out of the parking lot of Moto Mart, a chick in an SUV beeped and pointed, but she didn't appear to have a problem with us, so we shrugged and went on our way.
We stopped at the stoplight by Dairy Queen, then went on. T.E. is very cautious with left turns, waiting until there's a mile between cars before he turns, which is just fine with me. We pulled over the very big dip and got into the parking lot, and T.E. took his time and parked at least two spots away from the nearest car, just like I like when he's driving. I got out just in time to hear another driver of an SUV laughing like a nut, talking to my son.
"How did you get all the way with it up there?" he asked T.E.
On top of the car, on the driver's side, was one of my 12-packs of Diet Coke, in no different position than when we set off from Moto Mart and my son forgot to put it in the car.
He turned beet red. Please remember that, not five minutes before, they laughed at me :)
Now, I'm just waiting for KitKat to do something. She's sneaky, though. Might be a while before she admits to a mistake or I catch her in the act. Stay tuned...
Thank you, Aunt Alice, for asking me to blog something. It was great seeing you tonight and I will try to keep up better here!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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
see more crazy cat pics
Friday, February 29, 2008
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?
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?
Saturday, February 09, 2008
This is my KitKat
Young Authors conference is this morning
An award-winning author, McKissack has written nearly 100 children's picture books, young adult novels, and non-fiction biographies about African-Americans.
The program starts at 8:30 a.m. with breakfast for the Young Authors winners and their families, followed by McKissack's presentation and the awards ceremony. More than 400 people will attend the event at Junior High School.
The program celebrates excellence in writing for students in second- through eighth-grades, and more than 100 district students will be honored this year for their writing.
Best of School and Special Recognition students will be invited to participate in the Regional Young Authors Conference on April 26.
*************
KitKat didn't get to the next level, but she wrote and put herself out there for judging. She turned in a 30-page novella, fantasy genre, and worked hard. My Precious (think Gollum), I'm proud. Congratulations on your 3rd trip to the YA Conference.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Penithes and 'Gina
Parenting blogs bring back tons of memories. I love the ones who are absolutely positive their parenting methods are the only ways that work.
I’m not sure I have a parenting method. It’s trial and error, tailor-made to each kid. It’s not the most effective method, either, or I’m sure I’d go shopping with little robots, tallest to shortest, in a nice duckling row. For my leash diatribe, see here.
Tonight’s advice I saw was, “Teach your kids the proper names of their private parts.” I took this advice to heart once. In nursing school, one of my instructors made a lot of sense. If the kid has his own pet name for his privates, who’s going to know if it hurts?
My eldest was two. Hello. Two-year-olds point. If they’re not old enough to point, then they’re not old enough to talk either, but I thought being an instructor made you closer to God or something, so I instructed Tiger’s Eye on the “correct” terminology for his parts, and the corresponding girl parts, because, of course, I had KitKat by then and he’d already noticed the difference.
Wait...funny break...Tiger’s Eye discovered himself and did his first somersault in the same minute. It cracks me up to this day. What’s this? Roll down the hallway.
He had it down. “Penithes and ‘gina.” He understood. We’re good, right?
Next day, we had dinner at my parents’ house. My grandmother and Pop were there. Somewhere during the roast beef being served, Tiger’s Eye announced that:
“Boys have penithes and girls have ‘gina.”
Pop’s deaf, or darn near. I dodged the bullet there. My grandmother, however, came and left the world with every single faculty God gave her. Engrossed in conversation and maintaining the proper food passing pattern, however, she missed him.
“Josh boy. Josh have penith. Mom girl. Mom has ‘gina. Dad boy. Dad has penith.”
He was going around the table! And pointing!
“Grandmom?” He paused.
He spoke her name. Of course she heard him. My sisters had already noticed his designation of us all, and I could barely breathe. My grandmother, a great benefactress, stalwart Christian, and very nice individual, was about to be told she had...
“Do you have ‘gina?” Tiger’s Eye asked.
“Yes, dear, I have china.” She looked quite puzzled. “I keep it in the china cabinet.”
She hadn’t heard the rest! Tiger’s Eye, confounded, looked down, trying to figure out how the heck she kept her vagina in a cabinet, but it shut him up and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Lessons learned:
*When a parent puts emphasis on something, the kid knows it’s important and remember. This is good. You can talk and think they don’t hear, but they do.
*If a kid can speak, he/she can also point, and a proper label is unnecessary when an index finger will do nicely, thank you very much.
*Moms can hold their breaths for an eternity. The same goes for bladders, but that’s not in the context of the story.
*Little blond two-year-olds are parrots and sponges. Never, ever forget this. Another rule that goes hand in hand with this would be, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
So, progressive parents, do what you want. If he’d remembered the cabinet quandary, it would have been very, very fun explaining to him how to get that up in a cabinet and keep it there. I think I would have used a denture analogy. Hey, he was two. I had the girls believing they weren’t going to grow much more and they weren’t human, they were elves. They had the ears for it.
I’m not sure I have a parenting method. It’s trial and error, tailor-made to each kid. It’s not the most effective method, either, or I’m sure I’d go shopping with little robots, tallest to shortest, in a nice duckling row. For my leash diatribe, see here.
Tonight’s advice I saw was, “Teach your kids the proper names of their private parts.” I took this advice to heart once. In nursing school, one of my instructors made a lot of sense. If the kid has his own pet name for his privates, who’s going to know if it hurts?
My eldest was two. Hello. Two-year-olds point. If they’re not old enough to point, then they’re not old enough to talk either, but I thought being an instructor made you closer to God or something, so I instructed Tiger’s Eye on the “correct” terminology for his parts, and the corresponding girl parts, because, of course, I had KitKat by then and he’d already noticed the difference.
Wait...funny break...Tiger’s Eye discovered himself and did his first somersault in the same minute. It cracks me up to this day. What’s this? Roll down the hallway.
He had it down. “Penithes and ‘gina.” He understood. We’re good, right?
Next day, we had dinner at my parents’ house. My grandmother and Pop were there. Somewhere during the roast beef being served, Tiger’s Eye announced that:
“Boys have penithes and girls have ‘gina.”
Pop’s deaf, or darn near. I dodged the bullet there. My grandmother, however, came and left the world with every single faculty God gave her. Engrossed in conversation and maintaining the proper food passing pattern, however, she missed him.
“Josh boy. Josh have penith. Mom girl. Mom has ‘gina. Dad boy. Dad has penith.”
He was going around the table! And pointing!
“Grandmom?” He paused.
He spoke her name. Of course she heard him. My sisters had already noticed his designation of us all, and I could barely breathe. My grandmother, a great benefactress, stalwart Christian, and very nice individual, was about to be told she had...
“Do you have ‘gina?” Tiger’s Eye asked.
“Yes, dear, I have china.” She looked quite puzzled. “I keep it in the china cabinet.”
She hadn’t heard the rest! Tiger’s Eye, confounded, looked down, trying to figure out how the heck she kept her vagina in a cabinet, but it shut him up and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Lessons learned:
*When a parent puts emphasis on something, the kid knows it’s important and remember. This is good. You can talk and think they don’t hear, but they do.
*If a kid can speak, he/she can also point, and a proper label is unnecessary when an index finger will do nicely, thank you very much.
*Moms can hold their breaths for an eternity. The same goes for bladders, but that’s not in the context of the story.
*Little blond two-year-olds are parrots and sponges. Never, ever forget this. Another rule that goes hand in hand with this would be, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
So, progressive parents, do what you want. If he’d remembered the cabinet quandary, it would have been very, very fun explaining to him how to get that up in a cabinet and keep it there. I think I would have used a denture analogy. Hey, he was two. I had the girls believing they weren’t going to grow much more and they weren’t human, they were elves. They had the ears for it.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Giving birth...to a dragon.
I really got into polymer-based clay at one point, but hadn't touched the stuff in six years or more. When KitKat wrote a paper about how much she liked watching me work with the clay, I got it out again. KitKat and I worked in tandem, constructing parts and working the clay until soft enough to use.This is my first dragon, and it's got room for improvement, but the wings! I'd never done wings before, and we are very, very happy with how they turned out. KitKat had a good eye for the look of the dragon, but she loves her dragons and had a good idea of what she wanted. For more details and construction pictures, please go here.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
She's inheriting my dementia...
My 13-year-old KitKat allowed me to post this. She actually wrote about me for an English paper. The title is attention getting, yes? One-two author punch!
I think she loves me. It gives me the sniffles, and my favorite presents never came with a bow, anyway. I'll add this to my list of favorite things.
Thanks again, baby. I forgive you for the in-utero stretch thing, you know, where you hit my bladder and my diaphragm simultaneously whenever I had hot coffee on my tray, taking orders at Cracker Barrel.
I think she loves me. It gives me the sniffles, and my favorite presents never came with a bow, anyway. I'll add this to my list of favorite things.
Thanks again, baby. I forgive you for the in-utero stretch thing, you know, where you hit my bladder and my diaphragm simultaneously whenever I had hot coffee on my tray, taking orders at Cracker Barrel.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
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
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Funny and boring day, but good
There's a Ram's joke that only true fans understand, a quip from my daughter, a slap-happy mother/son moment, a sibling bonding situation, and my take on life.
Have a good one. I remembered someone else's name, too. You can meet Nellie.
Have a good one. I remembered someone else's name, too. You can meet Nellie.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Option #2, Madame Gazelle?
It comes to the point where you think people have two options...click here.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Multicultural St.Louis
I love working from home. I love not having a set schedule. I wondered how long it would take, going from daily trips out of the house to do the pickups/deliveries before I needed out.Yesterday was that day. Actually, it happened before then, but Friday was the soonest I could make it happen. I was on pins and needles and antsy, antsy, antsy. I wanted OUT!
KitKat and I took the MetroLink to Union Station, where were promptly assailed by a henna tattoo merchant. He definitely wasn't Indian, so while getting a dragon on my arm (he was a very good salesman), I discovered he was from Israel. His kiosk sat not too far from another, a Dead Sea product merchant, who too was from Israel. Interestingly, I talked about the Dead Sea and how I'd been wanting to see it, and that I swam in the Mediterranean, but it wasn't as salty, when another gentleman with the 2nd gentleman from Israel asked what part of the sea in which I had swam. I told him Mersin. Turned out his mother was Turkish. I told him "merhaba" and chatted very nicely with them for a while. Then, we went upstairs and had gyros. I told the guy behind the counter that, so far, I had been in conversation with two Israelis and a Turk, and I assumed he was Greek. He made me guess. That's a dangerous, dangerous game. I felt safe he wasn't a Turk, so I stayed away from that one. I guessed Crete. He said no. I said Lebanese. He looked at me like I'd be dead. I told him that playing the guessing game from that part of the world could be construed as an insult and I thought it would be better off if he came clean. He was from Morocco. The gyro was delicious, and then we went downstairs and played with the Chinese finger weapons and looked at a crossbow replica and a mace with four stainless steel balls, and, of course, more dragons for KitKat.
It was PLEASANT. Wow. I feel like I've done something, and all we did was leave the house for a few hours. I am such a homebody, and KitKat and I now have matching henna dragon tattoos. It was fun, and I think KitKat looks at me just a bit differently. She's so shy and I'm so not, and had I been shy, we wouldn't have had such a nice dinner conversation topic.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
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.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
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...
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...
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