September 27, 2006

Promise you won't say I told you so

Dear Mom,

I am beginning to understand what you went through when you raised me. I am so sorry. Quite truthfully, I'm more than a bit suprised you are still talking to me. And you even love me after all I put you through.

I've suspected it for some time now and can no longer ignore it. Chickie is just like me. Lord help me, but she is. Her poor father doesn't know what he signed up for.

I can really see the similarity when it comes to school. Earlier this week, I got an email from her Language Arts teacher who told me she was missing seven assignments. Yes, that was my thought as well. I was calm on the outside, but just about ready to implode on the inside. She was grounded until she made them all up. Apparently there was more than a few kids who were missing assigments. When I asked her why, she told me she didn't want to do them. I told her the same thing you repeated to me, time after time (I lost count at 587). There are alot of things that we don't want to do in our life, but because they are our responsibility (be it job or school, or even life) we go ahead and do them anyway (IT'S NOT FAIR, AND I WISH YOU WOULD JUST STOP REPEATING YOURSELF ALREADY).

Oh, but the story doesn't stop there. Band has always been a favorite subject of hers. I never had to worry about her bringing her instrument to school, nor did I ever have to nag her to practice. She just did it. When I signed on to look at her grades on Monday, she had an "F" in band. WTH(eck)? It turns out she didn't bring her trumpet in three days last week, so she not only lost out on class participation, she missed the playing test.

She's made up everything in band now, and all but one assignment in Language Arts. But I have to watch her every step of the way. Part of me wants to let her handle it, and if she fails, so be it. But then I wouldn't be doing my job as a parent. At least that's my way of thinking. I know that she needs to take responsibility for things in her life, but wheredo you draw the line and help?

I know you never stopped, and you always were there to step in when needed. Your encouragement of me never ceased, even though I really didn't show you how much it meant to me. I suspect that's because I didn't realize the magnitude of what you and Dad were doing until I had a child of my own.

A child so much like me that it scares me. The really good part about that is, she can't get away with anything, because I've already tried it. She has about as much success with that as I did.

Which was pretty much not at all.

Thanks Mom. I hope I can do as good of a job with Chickie, as you did with me.

All my love,

Moogie

Posted by Moogie at 7:43 PM | Comments (11)

September 26, 2006

Class pictures, scanners, wonky blogrolls and stuff

Chickie brought home her school pictures for this year, and I must say that they really turned out great. She actually smiled. With teeth. Even though she has braces. Now can someone explain to me how come she smiles so easily with braces, but when you tried to get her to smile before them, it was like telling her that she had to eat frog’s legs. Go figure.

Now I WOULD share them with you but I can't. Not because I'm seriously paranoid, but because the drivers (for the scanner portion of the scanner/printer/copier) aren't installed yet. Sigh. You can be sure that problem will be fixed tonight or my name isn't Henrietta Throckmorton. So you'll have to take my word for it when I say I have the most beautiful 11 almost 12 year old daughter in the whole wide world. Not that I'm biased or anything like that.

So, not only can I not share with you the most excellent pictures of the beautiful offspring, I can't seem to make my blogrolls work on the right hand side. When you click on the "+" sign, nothing happens. I'm not in a good space to figure out what is going on there. I think I really need to find a better way to display them because I seem to have problems like this from time to time with that particular issue. If you have any better ideas, I would love to hear them.

With all that being said (not to imply that I have said alot), I think I'll stop writing now before any more of you drop out of your office chairs like flies.

If you need me, just drop me a line. I'm so there.

Henrietta Throckmorton

PS: I woke up at 1:30 am last night (morning). And I didn't get back to sleep. Can you tell?

Posted by Moogie at 6:19 PM | Comments (6)

September 23, 2006

No matter how old you get....

....there are some things that are still just as funny as when you saw them as a child.

Take this for example (do any of your remember it?):

UPDATE: Sorry, it seemed that the original link didn't work. I'm hoping this one will work for you now. Thanks for letting me know.

Posted by Moogie at 6:18 PM | Comments (11)

September 22, 2006

Hello, my name is Bruiser

(click to enlarge)

Hi! Bruiser here! I'm guest posting for Mom tonight as she is busy trying to remove gum from a pair of her really nice work pants. I don't speak human fluidly, but I gather she was not happy. I also gather that it's a pretty good thing that Chickie and Meelie are out playing right now. It will give the bulging veins in Mom's nose time to go back to normal. And maybe by then she'll stop muttering to herself.

But I digress (I got that saying from Mom). We were talking about me.

Last night I was outside playing with Tiny and Ralph, the other two insignificant furry animals in this story, when all of a sudden, I hurt myself. I'm given to understand I made a terrible noise (think 2 year old screaming). I don't remember much of it because I was in so much pain. Oh, the pain! I feel faint thinking about it.

Mom and Meelie came to my rescue and asked me what happened but I couldn't talk because, oh, the PAIN. Mom took me inside and stroked my fur, talking to me softly and tried to get me calmed down. I remember her attempting to see what I had done to my leg, but I was so distraught, because, Oh My Gosh, I hurt so badly and I wasn't ashamed to let anyone know it.

Finally, Meelie came in with some doggie treats, which calmed me down alot, and Mom was able to get a look at my leg. There were no visible wounds, and my leg looked normal, but I remember how good it felt to lick it. They put me in my kennel after a while, and I settled down and went right to sleep.

When Mom came home from work today, she noticed that I wasn't putting any weight on my leg, and on further inspection, she noticed it was swollen. Dad had looked at it this morning, but it really wasn't as bad as it was tonight. Honest. It hurt so much that I immediately needed more doggie treats to medicate me. Mom and Meelie were happy to oblige.

Mom called Doc, and Doc said to bring me right in. So, off we went. Meelie carried me into the Doc's office when we got there, and she held me on her lap while we waited to get signed in. Did I mention that my Sissy gives great back scratches?

We were taken to this little tiny office that smelled really good. Only another dog would understand. The Doc came in and asked Mom to put me down on the floor, at which time I promptly went crazy. Oh the smells. I walked on all four legs, hopping around, like a cat that got into the Tequila. Every once in a while, I would remember the pain, and limp, or hold one leg up. But mostly I just went schizoid. And then whizzed on the Doc's foot.

She checked me out really good, and declared that I had a soft tissue injury. I became a little bit miffed at that because there was nothing soft about my injury. But they didn't listen to me. Then Doc clipped my toenails, which made it alot easier to walk on slippery floors without sliding all over the place.

I was sent home with some pain medication to take for the next few days, and if I don't get any better by then, they'll take an x-ray.

I don't know what an x-ray is, but if it means I can have more doggie treats, I'm all for it.

Posted by Moogie at 7:06 PM | Comments (8)

September 21, 2006

Tidbits

I'm sorry. No ride can be THAT good. I'm sure this lady would be up for it though.

Has anyone read "Running with Scissors," by Augusten Burroughs? It's over on my side bar under "currently reading." I just started it this weekend. It's delightfully hilarious, yet also gives you a glimpse into the serious side of life of a boy being raised by a mentally unstable mother, as well as an alcoholic father.

Example:

"I would have been an excellent member of the Brady Bunch. I would have been Shaun, the well-behaved blond boy who caused no trouble and helped Alice in the kitchen, then trimmed the split ends off Marcia's hair. I would have not only washed Tiger, but then conditioned his fur. And I would have cautioned Jan against that tacky bracelet that caused the girls to lose the house-of-cards-building contest."

Sometimes his language could be considered harsh, but in this case, his use of certain words adds to the flavor of what he is trying to portray. Take this little excerpt for example:

"Every Saturday, I rode in the brown Dodge Aspen with my parents to Northampton. We would sit in complete silence and my parents would chain-smoke the whole way. Occasionally my mother would comment that there was a smell like manure emanating from my father's ears. And sometimes he would tell her that she was a fucking bitch. Other than that, not a word was spoke."

As I said, I've only just started it. If you have read it, what is your opinion?

In other news, Chickie got a call from "Brandon" today. The killer is, she's at dance and I can't pester her with questions. Who is this Brandon who dares call you when I didn't even know he existed? Why did I have to find out about him through a phone call? What are your feelings for him? Please tell me that he is a just a really good friend because if you are starting to look at boys in "that way," I may have to cover my head in Pillsbury Biscuits, and stick it in the oven.

I'm not ready for this. Especially after I find out that on Monday, Meelie wrote Johnathan a note in which she told him that she loved him. Apparently, Johnathan is completely unaffected. Which in one sense, relieves me because after all, 8 years old is entirely too early to start planning a wedding. On the other hand, my daughter has just declared her undying love for you and all you can say is, "She loves me, but it's no big deal because she likes going fishing and doesn't care if she gets dirty." A mother's job is such a balancing act, is it not?

I am wiped out. We are at fiscal year end at work, which is always an absolutely awful time of year. But it's also challenging at the same time. The hours are long, but it's only for about three weeks. The stress is high, and the hormones are high (three women are in my group). AND I MISS MY FAMILY. Most days it's perfectly ok, but there are some days, like today, when I feel overwhelmed at all of the responsibility. My mind can deal with the stress, but my body has other ideas. How do you deal with stress?

Tonight I was just going to write a small post, one which would have informed you that I really have nothing to say. Obviously, I don't know myself very well.

And with that, I will sign off.

Carry on.

Posted by Moogie at 5:25 PM | Comments (12)

September 20, 2006

Crunchy stuff and cookie dough

When we first moved here, one of the things that we noticed was the over abundance of toads. The little brown toads that make so much noise at night, or after a good rain. I clearly remember one night, sitting on the deck and chatting with my brother on the phone. I finally had to give up, and go inside because I couldn't hear what he was saying.

They were THAT loud.

Occasionally, a toad will take refuge in our garage and it's really no use trying to chase them out, because they just turn and high tail it into the direction of the numerous boxes sitting unpacked in the garage. It's a futile exercise so I generally ignore them, and hope that they find their way out soon. If not, and I find the lifeless body, I give the job of disposal to my husband. Hey, it works for me.

My husband was not yet working, so he was home during the day, doing all of the things that husbands do while trying to whittle away at the honey do list his wife had posted on the refrigerator. Taking a step back to explain a little, this was one of the times that the toad had not made his exit out of the garage before we closed it for the night.

He got the kids off to school, and went about clearing the stacks of empty boxes we had in our sunroom, which had previously held enough books to fully stock the shelves of the library in an Ivy League College.

As he was carrying these boxes out into the garage (I must tell you that he was barefoot), he went down the step that led into the garage, and his foot (did I mention he had no shoes on?) landed smack dab on top of the unfortunate toad. The result of which is, the toad never made it home. His family couldn't even have a burial for him because after my husband scooped up the remains and tossed them onto the grass, a vulture decided to have him for breakfast. No joke.

Because my husband and I are so in tune with each other and also very competitive, he immediately took over the "For the love of Paul and all that is holy, I am the owner of the grossest thing that ever happened in this family" award. And I was happy to keep it that way. And no, I don't know who Paul is, I just shouted that out in frustration at my youngest child one day when she came home, sopping wet, in school clothes, and brand new shoes ("but I just kind of slipped, and fell in the pond, and then rolled around in the sand").

Ok, where was I?

For a couple of years now, my husband has proudly held that honor, and almost lost it tonight. Besides toads, we also have an abundance of bugs. All kinds of bugs. Some of them are really big and I am convinced that one of these days (if the vultures don't do it first), a really ginormous bug will swoop down and carry off my child and raise it as one of their own.

When I came home from work tonight, I noticed that one of these bugs, which was a cockroach, laying on its back, and all 100 of its legs were swirling around like a ceiling fan gone psycho. I made a mental note to sweep the bug out of the garage after I had changed my clothes. I forgot.

It's important to note here that the cockroach was laying, dead center, in front of the doorway to the garage. After finishing up the stuff I needed to do, I made my way towards the garage, and ultimately my car, to remove the cookie dough I had picked up from the school on my way home (band fund raiser).

Did I mention I was barefoot? Can you see where this is going? Yes. I did. Crunch. You know, as a mom, I can tell you that I have experienced any number of things that are gross, but I must say that stepping on a cockroach, in my bare feet, was enough to make me want to hork in the nearest trash can. That whole crunching feeling? And the fact that it stuck on my foot? Was just too much for me.

I still say that my husband should hold on to the award. The idea of a smooshed cockroach is nothing compared to squashing a toad. But still.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to help my child organize the cookie dough for delivery. And for the love of Paul and all that is holy, I am wearing my shoes.

Posted by Moogie at 6:40 PM | Comments (6)

Wordless Wednesday - #11

Demented Leaf

Posted by Moogie at 6:19 AM | Comments (3)

September 18, 2006

It's a small world. Really.

Bwahahahahaha! I am the master and HEAR ME ROAR!

Ok, not really but peeps, you need to listen to this. It totally blew me away!

Yesterday the family and I went to our regular "Sunday Do the Lunch and Bookstore" thing. It's kind of a ritual with us, and one that we all look forward to on a weekly basis. When we pulled into a parking space at Golden Corral, there was a family just getting ready to get into their truck and depart.

Since opening the doors of both cars simultaneously was a no go, I signalled for him to go ahead and put his son in his car seat. I rolled down the window and told him to take his time. As we waited for the family to load up and head on out, the girls were happily chatting in the back, and the OWW and I were relaxing, and listening to some rockin' tunes, via his IPOD.

When the truck pulled out, we all exited the car. I waved at the man in the truck, he waved back, started to pull away, then put his truck in park and signalled me to come on over.

I wasn't particularly alarmed, as folks here are downright friendly, he had his wife and two kids in the truck with him, and I had my family with me.

As I approached the truck, the following conversation ensued:

Him: Do I know you from somewhere?

Me: Ummmm...... (I had no idea who he was, but didn't want to say something in case I really did know him from somewhere in my past)

Him: Did you used to live in California?

Me: Uh, yes (I STILL had NO clue who he was)

Him: Did you go to Lynbrook High School?

Me: Yes I did! (Insert enthusiasm here, as I still had no clue who he was)

Him: I thought I recognized you.

Me: What year did you graduate?

Him: 1980.

Me: Me too!

His wife: NO WAY!

My husband: OH MY GOD!

We continued to talk for about another 20 minutes and filled each other in on what we had been doing, and how we both found ourselves in Georgia. Even when he gave me his name, I couldn't remember him and it's killing me because I can't find my yearbooks. It was a really easy conversation and it felt as if I was seeing a really good friend I hadn’t talked to in years.

Think about it, 3,000 miles and 26 years past high school. It really is a small world.

Posted by Moogie at 6:56 PM | Comments (9)

September 16, 2006

Step away from the computer

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this post, or, actually write about the topic, I wanted to answer an email I received from "Myrtle." Ahem. Every time I think of Myrtle I think of a lady over on an infertility board I used to frequent back in the day (I'll call her Fran). Fran was amazing. Even after all of the heart aches and losses she suffered, she had a sense of humor that would blow a hole through your underwear at 9 yards. She used to talk about a woman she worked with (she referred to her as Myrtle) who used to tell her that she just needed to relax and THEN she would get pregnant.

If I had a dime for every time I heard that, I would most certainly not be working, and would be sitting at home watching soaps and eating bon-bons, while living the life of which I would like to be accustomed to.

Let me just give you a word of advice. If you ever meet a woman who is seeking medical treatment to have a child, please, for the love of God and all that is Holy, don't say that. Amen. Myrtle also used to tell Fran that all her (Myrtle's) husband had to do was sneeze on her when she was ovulating, and nine months later, out popped the Bobbsey Twins. Over on the board, we would cattily refer to her as the infertility specialist, or "Myrtle the fertile turtle." You kind of had to be there.

So at any rate, I received an email from Myrtle, not the fertile turtle, but some concerned reader, who felt I really needed to stop making myself look like and idiot on my blog.

*blink blink*

My response?

Dear Myrtle,

I don't view it that way. Sure, others share your view point, but this is my life, and it's who I am. If I can't laugh at myself, and some of the really STUPID things that I do or feel, then how am I going to learn? I write about things that I'm betting a rather large percent of my readers have either done or felt, but are not comfortable sharing. Over the years, I have learned how to laugh at myself. I could write a book on some of the dumb things I have done. Besides, if I share it here first, I totally take the wind out of my husband's sails, because you have to know that he will want to share it. Obligatory link.

So, just to make Myrtle throw up her hands and give up on me, I will share a quick story on why I really should not be allowed to use computers. For that matter, I should probably stay away from anything remotely electrical or mechanical.

Last night, when I got home from work, I was surfing the blogosphere and watching some videos here and there. At that time, I could both see and hear them. Today, after I got home from work, and yes, I had to go to work today, I was browsing around and any video I watched had no sound. I checked the speaker and made sure they were hooked up right and that all of the settings were correct. As I was shutting down all of my programs so that I could reboot my computer (hey, a reboot fixes everything), I realized there was this extra knob on the speaker. Most folks would call it the on/off switch.

A word of advice from Old Weird Ward: "It's the simple stuff that will trip you up, EVERY SINGLE TIME."

On a side note, the author and artist of all things wonderful, Leah is pregnant. And she's having a difficult time. Won't you go over and give her some positive thoughts, and a prayer or light a candle for her? She sure could use it.

Posted by Moogie at 4:45 PM | Comments (12)

September 13, 2006

Green Slime Amazon Woman

There are some situations in which you just have to laugh, and laugh really hard. Especially when it is directed solely at you. If you take life too seriously, you will find yourself in a dressing room being fitted for a straight jacket. Dude, make mine pink.

While this seems to be going well, I found myself hip deep in problems with Meelie's Language Arts teacher.

Mrs. D is an "old school" teacher. You know the type. This of course makes my brain scramble and the chip on my shoulder grow to a size that even the most experienced of mountain climbers wouldn't dare try. "Houston, we have a problem, May Day! May Day! May Day!" (this is my brain when I react before thinking) When I pictured Mrs. D before today, I saw an Amazon, glaring down at my child, smoke coming out of her ears and green slime running out of the corners of her mouth (some say I'm a bit melodramatic). I could see her hissing at my child "if I tell you to do this, then this is what you must do, and if you don't get it then you need to pay attention already (sit still!) because I am tired of repeating myself." Really. She talked in run on sentences in my mind. It was that bad.

To give credit where credit is due, I'm sure she is a really good teacher, and that my daughter is driving her insane. Because she doesn't fit the mold. I'm not entirely sure there was a mold when she was created. I think she started out as more of a molecular blob, and progressed from there.

It's a good thing I'm not bitter, or overprotective, isn't it? Because I was so ready to take this woman down it's not even funny. But that is in no way fair, or supportive. It won't help the situation at all and it won't help the problem if I get up into her personal business and kick the snotty, condescending, “there is something wrong with your child because she is lazy and doesn't listen” little biznich attitude she has displayed in her communications with me. Did I mention that I have a quick temper and am somewhat defensive even when there is no cause to be?

I got over myself pretty fast. I have learned, after eating so many feet, that I need to let myself calm down, and look at things in a kinder, gentler, not so much it's-all-about me way. You know, do the mature, rational adult thing which doesn't always come easy to me when I think my child is getting a poke in the eye with a stick.

It had become increasingly apparent that there were problems with this teacher. She is doing really well in all of her classes, except with this subject. From last year, we learned Meelie is extremely bright, but lacks the focus and attention to deal with details. Details like remembering to bring your homework home and remembering when things are due. And focus? What focus? Would you just sit still already! I could go on but I want to get to bed sometime before midnight.

So we scheduled a parent-teacher conference this afternoon with the homeroom teacher and the Amazon Green Slime Woman.

Third grade is some hard learning man. Dudette! You have to change classes and remember to bring the right folders and then figure out what you have to do for homework. I was ready to totally overlook the whole homework log thing, because, you know, my daughter just wasn't good at LOOKING at the log to figure it out. I mean, who really cares that they are trying to teach the kids to be responsible for what needs to be done so they can succeed in 4th grade? I mean really! This is about my daughter, and how she is having a really rough time, especially with the Amazon Woman, and she cries, and says if she has to remember anything else her brain is going to explode. It's just that hard. The kind of hard that makes a kid think they should be going back to kindergarten because they will never, ever, ever make it and will probably be in school until they are as old as me and can't fit into the chairs any more. And people, that is way too old to be cleaning chalk boards.

You see where this is going? You see why I wait to cool down?

By this afternoon I was calm enough to actually figure out there may be some other point of view, that might be ok to listen to, even if I wasn't going to like what I was about to hear. Maybe, just maybe, I should listen to what they had to say, and then react. Or not.

It shouldn't be surprising for you to hear me say that the meeting went exceptionally well. We got together and brainstormed for ideas in which to help my little peanut remember. Suffice to say, that also means mom has to be a bit of a hard nose and force her to take responsibility where it is due. And the Green Slime Amazon Woman is nothing more than a beautiful rose, with a couple of thorns because she can read my daughter inside and out and is not about to let her fail. And that I really had a hard time looking her in the eye because earlier in the week, I was ready to make her head roll, and show everyone, and I mean EVERYONE that this mom is not going to take the mistreatment of her daughter laying down.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go clean off the chalk board and since my recess privileges have been revoked until my attitude has improved, I believe I'll do some reading for the book report due next month.

That is all.

Posted by Moogie at 7:30 PM | Comments (8)

Wordless Wednesday - #10

Patience

Leave a comment if you are playing this week. Heck, leave a comment if you aren't. Come on, join in the fun!!!

Posted by Moogie at 6:28 AM | Comments (13)

September 11, 2006

Progress Report

What a difference a year makes. How many of us have uttered those words before? I think I say that most when I am referencing some sort of stage that my children have gone through. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, I guess. Or that's what they say.

The emotional ups and downs of having these little human beings in my life, and being a parent responsible for raising them leaves me dazed and confused. One minute, I think I'm just about the best parent since sliced bread, and the next, I am continually questioning my ability to take on such a daunting task.

Last year, Chickie struggled in school. Don't get me wrong, she excelled, but only through sheer diligence and stubbornness on her parent's side. I can't tell you the amount of times "she forgot she had homework," or would forget to turn it in, or swear it wasn't her fault and that the teacher never told them. The one excuse I loved was that her locker was stuck so she couldn't bring her books home. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

The scary part about that is I had the same traits at her age. Ok, I probably was like that all the way up to my senior year. Hi mom!

This year started out the same, but I handled it differently from the beginning. I sat down with her and asked her what I could do to assist her in succeeding. Since she has a heavy schedule with dance (4 nights a week), and is fully cognizant of the fact that if she does not do well in school, she will have to cut back on the number of classes she is taking (think shoving bamboo shoots under her fingernails or eating broccoli), she was more than willing to listen.

I monitor her assignments and grades, and she has a book in which she keeps track of assignments. On her own, she has gone to the teachers and had them initial the homework she has recorded, so that we know she has her ducks lined up in a row. It may be a crooked row, but it's a row. I've always been partial to abstract art. This doesn't happen every day, but it does occur enough to let me know she is paying attention. It's a bit of an effort on my part, but it certainly has paid off.

She got her progress report today. 3 A's and 2 B's. Her goal? Is to bring everything up to and A (she's pretty close). I told her that if she keeps trying like she is, I'm sure she'll achieve it, but if not, I am seriously proud of what she has done. In reality, she's done it herself. Sure, I monitor things in the background, and sometimes give her some reminders. But I have only had to question her one time on missing assignments. Some, she had already done but weren't posted on the website. Other's, she had forgotten to do. But she immediately did them, on her own.

So, for today, as of right this minute? I'm better than sliced bread. Maybe even as good as cinnamon raisin toast.

Posted by Moogie at 5:47 PM | Comments (3)

September 10, 2006

Adolescent Speak

I am convinced that children have their own language. This language is only known unto them. When they do stoop low enough to use words we understand, they somehow have an extra syllable attached to them. I am humbled to report that I am finally getting the hang of it. This of course, is because I have my own two children, as well as all of their friends who are so patient and understanding with me. I feel blessed, especially when they pat me on the head and tell me I am really doing good for an old person.

Below are just some examples of the words with dangling syllables. Picture a dangling participle, only not as fat.

1. No-wah: (If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, no-wah, you may not use my scooter!)
2. Why-ah: Why-ah can't I go play in the mud in my school shoes? (For that matter, just stay out of the mud already!)

I could go on but I do need to feed them sometime before they go to bed, so I have to keep this short.

Do your children have their own language? Do they have unique words they use? I'm thinking of starting a Adolescent Speak Dictionary, so put your entries here in the comments.

Posted by Moogie at 6:23 PM | Comments (5)

September 6, 2006

I have decided

When you are tired, and you feel like you can't keep up, and you feel as though things are too much?. There is nothing like having your husband sing "Brother Loves Salation Show" (Neil Diamond) to you in full volume.

Life is good, yes?

Posted by Moogie at 9:18 PM | Comments (15)

The Breakfast Club - The Younger Years

(click to enlarge image)

We went to the Catfish Festival this weekend and had a really great time. Much to the horror of my husband, we toted 3 extra kids around with us.

Ah, my beloved internets, no matter what my other half says, I had a plan. I did, I tell you. For a while there, I forgot what it was, but as I put said plan in motion, it became clear. As mud.

I kid. My reasoning behind letting the girls bring friends is quite simple really. No whining. Trust me, it works. Rather well if I do say so myself. They entertain each other, which lessons the chance of boredom, feet hurting, feeling hot, hungriness, and general grumpiness that comes from dragging kids along to something that is not and event made entirely for them.

The above picture is the group. Best Friends Forevah!! Two of them live on our street, and one goes to Meelie's school. They are inseparable. I had just given them the "these are the rules and if you don't follow them you will be going home" speech. They took it rather well I think.

It was a fantastic day and the weather cooperated by being rather cloudy for most of the time, with a slight breeze. We came away happy and tired, a bit sunburned, but we all had PUPPETS! And some other trinkets! And we must not forget the kettle corn! Mmmmm, kettle corn. I even bought some boiled peanuts, which I have discovered I love, and found out that three of the children love them too. This meant that they ate them all, but I was allowed to have 3. And one of them was empty.

Ah, good times.

Posted by Moogie at 7:00 PM | Comments (6)

Wordless Wednesday - #9

Family Portrait

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Posted by Moogie at 6:33 AM | Comments (12)

September 3, 2006

Honesty and Youth

It is obvious to those who read my blog that I love children. Especially when they are sleeping. I think one of the things I love the most is their ability to view the world with rose colored glasses. What's white is white (unless you are playing in a tree house and all bets are off on the color of their clothes when they come back), and what's black is black. Period, end of discussion.

While this trait is endearing, it can also work against you. Kind of like a double edge sword.

For instance, because of this blatant honesty, and a propensity to blurt out the truth to anyone who asks, I made it a habit to never tell my children my real age. I was able to do this successfully until my mom (bless her heart) put two candles in the shape of the #4 on my last birthday cake. My cover was blown. Because everyone who is anyone knows that 8 year olds have no censorship and a memory like an elephant, unless you are talking about homework assignments.

The following week, we went to Golden Corral for lunch, and I always make sure to state my children's ages because we get a discount. I was feeling rather upbeat (can you hear the wind between my ears?) so I said "We have an 11 year old and an 8 year old, and then two 29 year olds." My darling child, who must not be from my womb, rolled her eyes and announced loudly, "Mom, you're not 29, you're 44."

Did I tell you that it was really crowded in there that day?

Posted by Moogie at 5:17 PM | Comments (10)

September 1, 2006

To close to home

I live on a "J" shaped street, lined with trees and inhabited by friendly neighbors and jam packed with kids of many ages. It's not uncommon to see a group of kids riding bicycles, scooters or just hanging out at the empty lot where there is a tree house. On my refrigerator is a list of phone numbers where my children might be found at any given day. I know quite a few of the neighbors on a first name basis, and have grown accustomed to their children invading my house and just having fun. Good stuff.

I became comfortable with the relaxed atmosphere and the fact that my children were free to roam the street, and play outside until dusk. I no longer had to walk them to their friend’s house, and then pick them up at a designated time like I did in California.

It was safe here. I don't want to admit that perhaps I became complacent, because after all, we were safe, nestled in our little community, where parents are always watching out for the children.

And then THIS HAPPENED.

First off, I did not know the man (young adult) who was the alleged victim. I only knew one family who actually lived on the street. Their daughter happens to be a friend of Chickie's and they ride the bus to school together. The fact of the matter is this house is only a few blocks from where I live.

The home is located just around the rather large curve, right past the beautiful old gnarled tree, which is something of a landmark in our development.

There are so many different rumors going around about what really happened, and why. Of course, the biggest one is that drugs were involved.

I always find it amazing and somewhat repulsive that there are so many people who want to speculate on what really happened. They have not yet positively identified the deceased, yet they are naming him in the paper and having a memorial service for him on Saturday? I guess it's ok, because they are pretty darn sure they know the identity, even though they are, as I write this, running tests, of which they won't have any results for as long as two weeks.

This reminds me of an article I read recently about some teenagers that were in an accident. Two of the victims, both girls, had the same hair color/style, eye color and body type. One died, the other one survived but was severely injured and heavily bandaged. It took quite some time to realize that the victim that was pronounced dead at the scene was in fact, the other girl. Can you imagine the emotional pain that both families suffered?

Is the family of Michael Ryan Foley so eager to pronounce him dead that they don't have the decency to wait for the autopsy results? I realize that this is a harsh statement but for goodness sakes, let's not make any rash decisions here.

Typically, I'm veering off the subject at hand, which is this crime happened too close to home. Realistically speaking, from what has been reported so far, we know that murder was involved. I also realize that there is a good chance that something like drugs played a large part in it, but really, who knows? Until we get a full report from the investigators on the scene, let's put a halt to the rumors and speculation.

A child (even though they call him a man) is dead. He will not live to marry and have children, nor will he be able to reach his full potential and become a contributing member of society. Who knows what his future may have held. Who knows what his last moments of life were like? Let us just hope that he did not suffer.

Let us hope that our children will still be able to play outside, without fear of harm.

I for one will hold my children tonight, and tell them stories of my childhood, which they ask me to do every night. And I will thank God that they are still with me, and pray that I will never lose them to an unspeakable crime.

Posted by Moogie at 6:00 PM | Comments (8)