Cow Day

  We visited Chick-Fil-A a few months ago on Cow Appreciation Day.  We all wore felt spots that I hastily cut while hollering at the kids to get into the car. Fortunately, rings of scotch tape managed to hold on the spots, and we passed as cows to receive our free meals, complete with chocolate cake and junky free toys.  

I had no idea just how savory the Chick-Fil-A sandwiches are until this new, exceptional celebration, which I plan to attend yearly.  Thank you Chick-Fil-A!

I can’t even see this title

I’m test driving Windows Live Writer.  Arggghhhh . . . I can’t figure out how to have my font color turn out right.  We’ll see how this goes. 

Kids, Hair, and Scissors

I recently found myself comforting a mother first experiencing her child's self-haircut. I don't have too much to say about that, except the following advice:

• Don't cry.
• Visit a professional hair stylist.
  
• Most importantly, make sure you take a picture.

This is Jackie, the day she climbed up onto the bathroom counter and carefully cut her hair in the style she wanted. If I remember correctly, I had told her for several weeks that I didn't want to cut that silky golden hair.



I may have been sad for a day or two, but I kind of liked her short hair after a while. It fit her spunky personality.



One more picture. This is Morgan a couple of years ago. Yes, that is a rubber band cutting off the circulation in her lips . . . and nose . . . and chin. Unfortunately, I can't find a picture of Anika, but I know she cut her hair too.



I hope Henry doesn't try--that might be a bloody mess.

Grammar and an Exhausted Momma

Just a side note here--It seems that every time I look at old posts I see grammatical/typing mistakes. But mommas have to get in their writing here and there--between this batch of laundry and that batch of cookies (actually, I rarely cook cookies, but you know what I mean). And sometimes I sit down to write and find myself falling over in the chair halfway through my post. Please forgive me, look past my errors, and feel free to laugh with this sleep deprived momma.

I Girl

I bought shoes for Henry the other day at Mobleys, a little ma and pop shoe store just down the street. I buy all our shoes there, where we can't really afford to be shopping. But after years of bringing home cheap shoes that didn't fit right, I decided that I can buy one expensive pair for the same price as two cheap pairs--one of which ends up too tight for my children's gigantically wide feet, and the other which falls apart early.

This time around, Henry chose a dusty gray-blue tennis shoe, complete with gray soles. He was happy about the shoes mostly because they were new. I was happy because the color will stay the same no matter what mud puddle he tromps in.

The next day I told Henry that I would be taking Jackie to get shoes at Mobleys. Henry's eyes widened with delight: "Jackie get shoes like mine?"

"No, Henry," I answered. "Jackie will probably get pink shoes. She's a girl."

Indignant, Henry straightened his wide shoulders, puffed out his chest, looked me in the eye, and asserted, "I girl."

"No," I replied, "You boy."

He insisted without even a blink, "No. I girl."

I suppose I'll talk to him more about that when he's a little bigger.

Wedding Bells

I took the kids to choir today. That, in itself, is a feat, and should be fodder enough for a great posting. Clearly, I lived through it, because I'm here typing on my computer.

As we pulled out of the driveway, Jackie (5) piped up, "Mom, we should bring Stu to choir." Stu is a nice 11-year-old boy with whom Morgan and Jackie especially like to play. The rest of the conversation went as follows:

Morgan, laughing: "Jackie, you love Stuart."

Jackie, dreamily: "Oh . . . yes."

Mom, trying to clarify: "Jackie, do you love Mommy?"

Jackie, stars in her eyes: "Oh, yes. I want to marry Mommy and Stuart. But Mommy is already married, and Stuart is too old. He'll be married before I can marry him."

This reminds me of when I was in love with my cousin. I remember sitting in Grandma's trailer and daydreaming about him. Of course, I was really little. I wonder if Jackie will remember wanting to marry her mother.

Big Birds

This morning was an unusual Sunday. The kids' Sunday morning routine normally takes all my energy and attention if I want to arrive on time to church. For some reason, this morning they were mostly ready earlier than normal--mostly ready means bathed, fingernails cut, dressed, but no shoes (big red flag of course here.) I decided I might have time to do some extra self-pampering: dying my hair, shaving my legs, painting my fingernails. So I ignored the kids and kept to myself in my bathroom. As time went on, I increasingly became aware of an unusual quiet stillness. In conjunction with the ever ticking clock, quiet before church is a very bad sign.

Quickly I brushed on my mascara, swept on my lipstick, grabbed my shoes, and called at the top of the stairs with the most positive voice I could muster, "Kids, time to go." No answer. I tottled downstairs in my wobbly tan heels, lifted the wooden blinds, and peeked out the window. By this point, we should have been driving out. We were going to be late.

Across and in the street nearly twenty Canadian geese squacked and pooped, waddling eagerly toward our children. As I watched, Henry's arm cocked back, and then chunks of white rained down on the geese, and they greedily scrambled for the bread Henry chucked. In his hands was the mostly empty Whitewheat Bread bag, which I bought yesterday for two dollars. His toes were bare. But on his face was a precious, gleeful smile.

Big surprise: we were a few minutes late to church, but I think it may have been worth the extra entertainment.

Who cracked the road?

On the way home from dropping the kids on the bus the other day, Henry kept stomping his foot. I, as usual, was in a hurry trying to get to the gym that morning, and I asked him why he was stomping his foot. "Crack road," he said. I looked down with him at our concrete road, which resembles the skin of an elephant--chinked and rifted in patternless patterns. Henry stomped his foot again, took a big step back to look at the road, and stated authoritatively, "See mom. I crack road."

Excuse me!

I was sitting at the computer and accidentally burped (I promise--accidental). Aware that Henry was playing behind me with a little friend, I immediately said, "Excuse me."

Henry giggled and piped up, "Excuse Andra."

Sixth Grade Homework Strikes Again

Now that we've figured out how to unscramble words with wordsmith.com, how disappointing . . . or funny . . . it was to get this clue for a vocab word:

"Features that makes it unique."

Nice grammar. (They say not to use sarcasm in writing, but hopefully you got it.)

I suppose the answer is physical, as in physical features?

Sure glad I'm not in sixth grade.

Fibber Island Musical Chairs

Anika and Jackie are gone at activity day girls, and Henry is asleep. Jackie brought down a portable CD player to our family room and has turned on a kids CD by They Might Be Giants. She is playing and replaying a funny song called Fibber Island. I think there's a moral to it--maybe something about not lying.

She has arranged a number of stuffed animals, mostly Webkinz in a circle with a chair in the middle. On the chair are a dog and a lion. Matthew is sitting on the couch. He gives me a silly grin that says, "Gotta see this--cute."

I sit and observe for a few minutes. Jackie starts the music and between beats announces different words, most of which I couldn't hear. But I did hear repeatedly, "hot chocolate." After about three of these words, she would turn off the music. And someone would have to leave the circle.

Interrupting, I ask, "Jackie, what are you playing?" Happily, she replies, "Musical chairs, Mom." I regret doing this, because it seems that now musical chairs is over. Now she is playing Anika's recorder for the animals.

I asked Jackie what her animal's names are. Some I have heard before and forgotten.

Hippy (a hippo)

Jasmine (dog)

Dolphne (Dolphin)

Love heart (pink frog covered with purple and fuschia hearts)

Hot Chocolate (a brown Clydesdale)--"Or was that marshmallow . . . you know, he should really be called marshmallow because of his big furry feet.

(Bear with red velvet Christmas hat)--" Berry doesn't have a name, so I'm naming him Berry." Oh, excuse me. That's probably Beary, though I think Berry should be perfectly acceptable.

Sixth Grade Homework

It's Back to the Future in Sixth Grade. Does anyone know where Leningrad, U.S.S.R is? Anika has to find the latitude and longitude of this city.

(See St. Petersburg, Russia on Wikipedia.org if you're confused.)

Xthsi Deagr Meohwkro

Anika's homework assignment tonight was great fun. Let's see if you can figure these out. Unscramble the definition of her social studies vocabulary words:

elrag ndsalseams no caurefs
ruseef at thta maeks tinueqiu
rehsa noomcm tescarsitcirach
yke xanpilnige lsby mso

Hmmmm. . . .

For those of you who don't have children bringing home homework like this yet, I suggest you become familiar with web sites like wordsmith.org, which takes scrambled words and gave us hundreds of possible unscramblings for some of these words.

Quarter Capers

Tonight's excitement: How many places can Henry try to put a quarter:

In the computer?

"No Henry."

In the paper shredder?

"No Henry."

In Henry's ear?

"No Henry."