When I am feeling down this adorable little girl always brings a smile to my face and she's quoting the word of God, which brings joy to my heart. Just wanted to share the smile and the joy...
Friday, November 30, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tact and Opinion
It was early and the bell had not yet announced the beginning of another day of academic adventures. I was talking to Cookie (my youngest) and setting up for my first reading group when Mr. M walked into my classroom. Mr. M was there to spend the day observing me teach. Mr. M had on cologne.
Strong cologne.
A lot of strong cologne.
My eyes watered and my nose begged for permission to defend itself by a sneak sneeze attack. i held my nose at bay by shoving a white Kleenex of truce under it (thank goodness it took the hint) and then I greeted Mr. M.
A few moments later he wandered over to the other side of my classroom (my class is divided by a 3/4 wall...one half is mine and one is the speech therapist's). As soon as he was out of sight I made a face, held my nose, mimed that I was choking, and fake gagged...gaaaggaaaakkkk.
Cookie looks at me and LOUDLY says, "Mom, why are you going gaaaaggaaakkk?" She mimicked my gagging sounds perfectly, the only difference being that I was whispering and she wasn't. Of course I instantly wanted to jump out the window and hide myself in shame. Instead, I foolishly stayed in the room so that my child...the fruit of my loins (do girls have loins?) could continue to humiliate me. I tried in vain to shush her.
"What? I can't hear you! And why are you holding your nose? I don't stink. You made me take a bath." I quickly dropped my fingers from my nose and shushed her again, this time by making frantic motions that said, "shut up right now or I will sell you to the gypsies." Apparently she doesn't read frantic, retarded sign language...or maybe she just likes gypsies...I don't know, but for whatever reason she didn't hush. Oh no. She didn't hush.
"Ohhhh...you think that man stinks don't you? Well I don't. I think he smells GOOD (little suck up) and he made your whole room smell good too. I wish I could stay in here and smell him all day with you."
At this point I clamped my hand over her mouth and looked around for some duct tape. She was in luck, I was fresh out. I was still furiously whispering to just hush when the bell rang. I kissed her good-bye, wished her a good day and sat down at my table to blush, fret, contemplate my limited hiding places and then blush some more.
I know better than to act that way. I taught my daughter a horrible lesson by making fun of the strength of his cologne. Don't worry though. Mr. M paid me back by sitting right beside me while I taught and by putting on even more cologne each and every time he left my room...and he left a lot people. It's been eight hours since he left and my nose is still weeping and begging for therapy.
Moral of this story? Teach your children to shut up.
Okay, okay...that was a joke. The real moral is that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. I mean that (preaching at myself here, not you). That was a rule my mom pounded into us and I tell my children the same thing. I am constantly amazed at how mean children can be to one another at school and often wonder if they realize the power of their words. Then I have to remind myself that they learn their behavior somewhere. Children are little sponges. Everything we do teaches them a lesson. Sometimes those lessons are good. Sometimes those lessons are bad. The choice of what we are teaching is really ours.
(Of course it wouldn't hurt Cookie to learn when to hush either! At what age do they develop tact?")
Side note: I am extremely sensitive to smells of all kinds and colognes/perfumes are the worst. They make me sick to my stomach and give me a headache. I am sure that Mr. M had on a normal amount of cologne, and I meant no disrespect to him. I have a feeling that he doesn't read Mommy blogs anyway, but knowing my luck he'll start today.
Strong cologne.
A lot of strong cologne.
My eyes watered and my nose begged for permission to defend itself by a sneak sneeze attack. i held my nose at bay by shoving a white Kleenex of truce under it (thank goodness it took the hint) and then I greeted Mr. M.
A few moments later he wandered over to the other side of my classroom (my class is divided by a 3/4 wall...one half is mine and one is the speech therapist's). As soon as he was out of sight I made a face, held my nose, mimed that I was choking, and fake gagged...gaaaggaaaakkkk.
Cookie looks at me and LOUDLY says, "Mom, why are you going gaaaaggaaakkk?" She mimicked my gagging sounds perfectly, the only difference being that I was whispering and she wasn't. Of course I instantly wanted to jump out the window and hide myself in shame. Instead, I foolishly stayed in the room so that my child...the fruit of my loins (do girls have loins?) could continue to humiliate me. I tried in vain to shush her.
"What? I can't hear you! And why are you holding your nose? I don't stink. You made me take a bath." I quickly dropped my fingers from my nose and shushed her again, this time by making frantic motions that said, "shut up right now or I will sell you to the gypsies." Apparently she doesn't read frantic, retarded sign language...or maybe she just likes gypsies...I don't know, but for whatever reason she didn't hush. Oh no. She didn't hush.
"Ohhhh...you think that man stinks don't you? Well I don't. I think he smells GOOD (little suck up) and he made your whole room smell good too. I wish I could stay in here and smell him all day with you."
At this point I clamped my hand over her mouth and looked around for some duct tape. She was in luck, I was fresh out. I was still furiously whispering to just hush when the bell rang. I kissed her good-bye, wished her a good day and sat down at my table to blush, fret, contemplate my limited hiding places and then blush some more.
I know better than to act that way. I taught my daughter a horrible lesson by making fun of the strength of his cologne. Don't worry though. Mr. M paid me back by sitting right beside me while I taught and by putting on even more cologne each and every time he left my room...and he left a lot people. It's been eight hours since he left and my nose is still weeping and begging for therapy.
Moral of this story? Teach your children to shut up.
Okay, okay...that was a joke. The real moral is that if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. I mean that (preaching at myself here, not you). That was a rule my mom pounded into us and I tell my children the same thing. I am constantly amazed at how mean children can be to one another at school and often wonder if they realize the power of their words. Then I have to remind myself that they learn their behavior somewhere. Children are little sponges. Everything we do teaches them a lesson. Sometimes those lessons are good. Sometimes those lessons are bad. The choice of what we are teaching is really ours.
(Of course it wouldn't hurt Cookie to learn when to hush either! At what age do they develop tact?")
Side note: I am extremely sensitive to smells of all kinds and colognes/perfumes are the worst. They make me sick to my stomach and give me a headache. I am sure that Mr. M had on a normal amount of cologne, and I meant no disrespect to him. I have a feeling that he doesn't read Mommy blogs anyway, but knowing my luck he'll start today.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Where's The Beef?
Something amazing happened.
We were making the long trek home from our Thanksgiving travels. It was just me and my girls. I was tired. I had a headache. I am night blind and nightfall was quickly approaching. The rain was starting to freeze on the roads and brookie was snarting in the backseat (for those of you who do not know, a snart is a sneaky fart-you can't hear 'em, but holy cow with a bell on you can sure smell 'em-and yes, we made that word up). We stopped for a burger on the go and that's when the something amazing happened.
I asserted myself.
If you know me personally you may not believe that, but that's what makes it amazing, it really happened. Lauren's cheeseburger had no burger. It had the bread. It had the cheese. It even had the mayo, but it did not have the meat. My first instinct was to just give her my dinner and throw hers out. Normally I won't complain, no matter what the problem...
They gave you the wrong drink? Well this a wonderful opportunity to try something new.
What? They left out your fries? That's okay. I'm sure they are just busy. Take mine, I'm not hungry anyway.
What's this? Hair in my burger? How thoughtful, i'll braid it and save it. Who knows when rat tails will make a come back.
I do not like confrontation of any kind. Add to that the fact that I truly don't want to inconvenience anyone and you can see how this can be a big problem. So I was quite proud of myself when I actually took a deep breath and called the waitress/car hop and told her what had happened.
Of course she was very apologetic and replaced the burger right away. It was all very simple and I was immediately struck with how silly it is that I don't stand up for myself more often. I realize a burger is not a big deal, but it was something I normally would have let slide. I know that we are encouraged to be meek (the meek shall inherit the earth and all that good stuff), but I honestly do not think the Lord wants us to be doormats either.
So from now on I am making an effort to be more assertive. I am going to try saying no to others when I need to and yes to myself a little more too. So don't be alarmed if you hear someone asking, "where's the beef?" It's not an eighties rerun (whatchoo talkin' bout Willis?), it's just me learning to grab hold of life with both hands instead of being the wimp in the background without any meat.
(Someone might want to warn Dave.)
We were making the long trek home from our Thanksgiving travels. It was just me and my girls. I was tired. I had a headache. I am night blind and nightfall was quickly approaching. The rain was starting to freeze on the roads and brookie was snarting in the backseat (for those of you who do not know, a snart is a sneaky fart-you can't hear 'em, but holy cow with a bell on you can sure smell 'em-and yes, we made that word up). We stopped for a burger on the go and that's when the something amazing happened.
I asserted myself.
If you know me personally you may not believe that, but that's what makes it amazing, it really happened. Lauren's cheeseburger had no burger. It had the bread. It had the cheese. It even had the mayo, but it did not have the meat. My first instinct was to just give her my dinner and throw hers out. Normally I won't complain, no matter what the problem...
They gave you the wrong drink? Well this a wonderful opportunity to try something new.
What? They left out your fries? That's okay. I'm sure they are just busy. Take mine, I'm not hungry anyway.
What's this? Hair in my burger? How thoughtful, i'll braid it and save it. Who knows when rat tails will make a come back.
I do not like confrontation of any kind. Add to that the fact that I truly don't want to inconvenience anyone and you can see how this can be a big problem. So I was quite proud of myself when I actually took a deep breath and called the waitress/car hop and told her what had happened.
Of course she was very apologetic and replaced the burger right away. It was all very simple and I was immediately struck with how silly it is that I don't stand up for myself more often. I realize a burger is not a big deal, but it was something I normally would have let slide. I know that we are encouraged to be meek (the meek shall inherit the earth and all that good stuff), but I honestly do not think the Lord wants us to be doormats either.
So from now on I am making an effort to be more assertive. I am going to try saying no to others when I need to and yes to myself a little more too. So don't be alarmed if you hear someone asking, "where's the beef?" It's not an eighties rerun (whatchoo talkin' bout Willis?), it's just me learning to grab hold of life with both hands instead of being the wimp in the background without any meat.
(Someone might want to warn Dave.)
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
She Takes After Her Mom
After putting my youngest through a battery of tests, the school says qualifies for the Gifted and Talented program. They say she has a high IQ and is quite creative.
I guess they don't know that she sometimes eats like this:
Or that she can't tell the difference between a chicken and a rooster (she thinks she looks like an egg, but since roosters can't lay eggs she really looks like a big steaming pile of McPooh)...
and they must not have asked our dogs what they think of her creativity...
All kidding aside I totally agree with them. She is brilliant and creative and beautiful to boot. I am very proud of her.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Turducken
That's what we are having for thanksgiving. A turducken. I am eating something with the word turd in it.
TURD.
Can't tell you how excited I am.
TURD.
Can't tell you how excited I am.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Hookers and Hang Ups
I was totally absorbed with looking at pictures of Kenny Chesney's butt reading helpful parenting tips on my laptop when my youngest daughter walked into the room.
"Hey mom, I learned something. Wanna see?"
"Mmmhmm, sure baby, but wear a life jacket. It can be rough at sea." My eyes never left the screen (I'm sorry, but have you seen that man's butt?).
"Mommmm...you aren't listening to me!" Peeking over the top of the screen I can see her standing there with one hand on her hip and a look that she inherited from my mother on her face.
"Honey, I've told you a million times, if you want my attention when I am day dreaming you have to call me Heidi...or Ms. Klum." She did not look amused.
"MOM!" Now her tiny little foot was tapping (I swear she can channel her Mumsie).
"Okay, okay. What did you learn?"
"I learned how to use a hooker." Wow. Kids really do grow up fast these days.
"Umm, okay. How did you learn that?" She had my attention now.
"Daddy showed me." Oh he was in big trouble now. We were definitely not playing Heidi and Kenny later.
"And what exactly did Daddy tell you to do with a hooker?" My eyebrows were hovering somewhere up in my hairline .
"You have to come to my room. That's where the hooker is." I generally try to avoid going into her room because I am afraid of what might be hiding under the mess. Although I usually imagine a litter of homeless kittens or Grandma Lulu's missing dentures, not a hooker. Curiosity got the better of me this time and I followed her into her room with much trepidation.
When she picked up a hanger and started hanging up a dress I had to smile. "Baby that is a hanger not a hooker." She shrugged and said, "same thing." Ahh to be young again.
Thank goodness I don't have to teach her paying for sex is wrong (yet). Now we just have to work on that lying. Cause I know darn good and well her dad didn't show her how to hang something up. I'm pretty sure the man doesn't know how. I wonder if Heidi ever has days like this...
if she's lucky she does.
"Hey mom, I learned something. Wanna see?"
"Mmmhmm, sure baby, but wear a life jacket. It can be rough at sea." My eyes never left the screen (I'm sorry, but have you seen that man's butt?).
"Mommmm...you aren't listening to me!" Peeking over the top of the screen I can see her standing there with one hand on her hip and a look that she inherited from my mother on her face.
"Honey, I've told you a million times, if you want my attention when I am day dreaming you have to call me Heidi...or Ms. Klum." She did not look amused.
"MOM!" Now her tiny little foot was tapping (I swear she can channel her Mumsie).
"Okay, okay. What did you learn?"
"I learned how to use a hooker." Wow. Kids really do grow up fast these days.
"Umm, okay. How did you learn that?" She had my attention now.
"Daddy showed me." Oh he was in big trouble now. We were definitely not playing Heidi and Kenny later.
"And what exactly did Daddy tell you to do with a hooker?" My eyebrows were hovering somewhere up in my hairline .
"You have to come to my room. That's where the hooker is." I generally try to avoid going into her room because I am afraid of what might be hiding under the mess. Although I usually imagine a litter of homeless kittens or Grandma Lulu's missing dentures, not a hooker. Curiosity got the better of me this time and I followed her into her room with much trepidation.
When she picked up a hanger and started hanging up a dress I had to smile. "Baby that is a hanger not a hooker." She shrugged and said, "same thing." Ahh to be young again.
Thank goodness I don't have to teach her paying for sex is wrong (yet). Now we just have to work on that lying. Cause I know darn good and well her dad didn't show her how to hang something up. I'm pretty sure the man doesn't know how. I wonder if Heidi ever has days like this...
if she's lucky she does.
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