Pop...Goes the Denture

***editor's note***

Have your hebbie gebbie guard up. This is a doozy.
Have your ear plugs in. Mom is loud. Again.
Be impressed. All of Mom's hoopla-ing was brought about by the noise made during extrication. She managed to keep the camera pretty still...in the midst of a major willies dance. Mom was seriously grossed out.

What a brave kid. Seriously. Chase we are both proud of you for being both strong and brave, and sorry for you for having grossed-out jellyfish for parents. And by the way, Whistler, you are soooo stinkin' cute with that huge hole in your face!

Do You Trust Me?

At the time of my birth, my parents were living in California. With my dad in the National Guard at the time, my mom headed to Idaho to be with her mom so she could have help with my birth and my 14 month old brother. So, I was born in Idaho. Not California. A tragedy that could not be avoided.


Oh, I am sure my dad was teasing me when he told me that I would have been a movie star, had I been born in California. I am sure he just said these words, and moved on, not giving it one more thought. But being a gullible child, who trusted her father implicitly, my ears heard,

"Seriously. All you have to do to be a movie star is to be BORN in California. We lived there, but you WERE NOT born then. It is completely our fault. We don't know what we were thinking. Obviously, we were not thinking of you. We are sorry that we have ruined your life. What could have been yours, is now gone forever. You are going to have to let the dream of growing up Hollywood, go. Just let it go. It is not in your birthright to be a movie star. We have taken that away. We are sorry. Ever so sorry."

Or, at least something like that.

Oh, you can believe that I told every one. And I mean E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. Everyone that could be talked at was told, by me, that I was supposed to be a movie star. If I had been born in California.

I was in the middle of accosting another human being with this "truth", when I actually stopped and listened to what I was saying. I stopped mid-sentence, paused to mull the words over in my head, and BUSTED out laughing. Sad thing? And I do mean VERY SAD THING. I WAS 14 YEARS OLD, PEOPLE! Some bulbs just do shine a little brighter than others, I guess.

Well, now...now it's my turn. Now I am the parent who gets to fill my child's head with whatever I want. And, I get to experience what it is like to have an overly dramatic child, like myself, who twists everything in it's translation, like myself, and gets really hair-brain ideas in his head...like myself.

Case in Point:

My ears tuned in on a conversation downstairs that was getting really heated. From my son, I hear,

"Uh huh, yes it does! Uh huh, playing too many video games DOES give you brain rot. And if you get brain rot, YOU'RE DEAD!

* Actual Comment *

"Turn it off, Chase. If you play that game for too long, it will rot your brain.

2nd Case in Point:

Conversation heard from back seat of van.

"Yeah, and her Boot Camp is sooooo hard. They make you run and sweat and make your bones really tired. AND, they only give you 30 seconds to get a drink of water. If you don't make it, then they make you quit, and you can't do boot camp anymore. Doesn't that sound HARD?"

* Actual Comment *

Well, actually, I don't remember the actual comment. I didn't feel the need for too much correction on this one. I have no problem letting Chase grow up thinking I am Wonder Woman.

Oh, it's fun to be the parent. Putty in my hands, I tell ya.

By the way, Dad. I completely forgive you. I forgive you for my birthplace. I don't think I would have made a very good actress.

One Fish...Two Fish...Red Fish...Pooh Fish

My date with Chase for Chinese was fabulous, of course. He was an absolute gentleman, where six-year olds are concerned.

We requested a table by the fish tank, hoping for the best atmosphere possible, for the "bestest date" ever. The waiter, captivated by our excitement for the event, became a part of it and let Chase feed the fish. What a glorious beginning to our date.

As we sat down at the table, we wasted not one second beginning GOOD supper conversation. Chase pointed out the "long, dangley thingy hanging from the big orange fish." I tried to keep my dry heaves to a minimum when my eyes finally made contact with the pooh string. I was nearly brought to hysteria when the other smattering of fish in the tank, began following the big provider, silently thanking him as they ATE the bounteous gift bestowed upon them.

I politely, but firmly, asked my date for a seat exchange, to a chair with my BACK the tank. My kind date tried to ease the quell in my throat by throwing out his perspective for all to hear.

"Well, they HAVE to eat their pooh, Mom. They have to keep their tank CLEAN. How would you like to swim around in all that pooh?"



You are welcome, cute little grandma's sitting at the table kiddy-corner to us, for the stimulating dinner conversation you were innocently sucked into. I am sorry, employees, for the soup spray you had to clean off of the walls. I am not sure what happened. It might have been the humor kicking in. Or, reverse peristalsis. Not sure. Really, not sure.


I am glad I am not a fish...I am glad I am not a fish...I am glad I am not a fish...I will not eat pooh...I am glad I am not a fish...I am glad I am not a fish...

Guess Who's Coming To Breakfast?

One Sunday, when we were kids, we asked our parents if we could go to a fast food restaurant for lunch. Their reply was,

"No, kids, not today. Today is Sunday. We are going to eat with singleness of purpose today."

Child 1 "What's "singleness of purpose"?

Child 2 "I don't know, but we're going to eat with him."




This is who showed up to eat breakfast with me this morning.







Whoa Nelly, that is one handsome Indiana! He was so cool and tough at breakfast. He did pause long enough to give me a devilish grin.




Chase and I are going on a date for Chinese today. We have been looking forward to this all week. I wonder who else will show up for lunch. With any luck, maybe it will be this guy




Ninja-Potter WOULD make an exciting lunch date.



Even if we don't get to eat with Ninja-Potter, I am pretty sure that we will be eating with Gusto; we do like Chinese food. I really am hoping that Self-Control, Will Power, and Restraint show up. I sure could use a good date with those. Seems like I haven't seen them for a long time. I would really like a visit from them.



Have you had any good meal time companions lately? I wonder if they are possibly as cute as mine!

Homemade Is Always Better...Right?

*WARNING*



Prolonged exposure to the product below has been found to cause some serious dysfunction in humans. Viewing product has been known to cause:



Sugar feet; sugar face; swelling of the hips, belly, thighs, and buttocks region; headache; diabetic coma; tooth decay; upset stomach; restlessness; sticky skin, found mostly in the face and hand region; shock. Use extreme caution when viewing this product.



If prolonged exposure happens to occur, consume 4-5 servings of fresh fruits and vegetables, drink plenty of water...and go to the gym.





This was a good idea gone bad. These are homemade ice cream sandwiches, made with "homemade" cookie dough ice cream. It's kind of like when you make a soup. When it starts out, it looks fine. But, you start to add all of the ingredients, and it gets bigger, and bigger. The idea in my head looked normal; finished product? Not so much. That is a regular sized dinner plate on which they are residing. They are, huh huh, a little large.




To help with the perspective even further, this is an over sized 6 year old. The sandwich dwarfs this giant's face. Like I said; HUGE. If this helps even more, it took this boy three shifts to finish this overgrown FHE treat.

I have taught this boy that homemade anything is usually going to be better than the store bought version. I think I made my point. Loud. Clear. And Ginormous.

Just In Case

Over the past few weeks, a few comments have been made to me that lead me to believe that some of you have the wrong idea about me. In spite of what some of you may think, I am NOT perfect. So, just in case YOU were wondering, let me give you some examples that might clarify any misgivings;



1. I ate 12 Cadbury Mini Eggs today. Oh, but wait. By tomorrow, I will have had 4 workouts this week. So, uh never mind.



2. Today was the first time I have cleaned-cleaned my house since the second week of January. Seriously. Wait. During these past 6 weeks, I have deep cleaned 3 houses for three different families across three different states, and helped another move. Never mind on this one, too.



3. I slept until 10 AM yesterday morning. Wait. That was after I returned from my 6 AM bust-your-booty exercise boot camp. Scratch that one, too.


Ah, shoot. Well, I tried. I guess, to quote Mary Poppins, I am "practically perfect in every way."



* If you actually for ONE second think that I am the LEAST bit serious, thank you! I do try hard*

Isn't it amazing how we picture others? Everyone looks so put together. Everyone looks like they have their ducks all in a row. We could never imagine anyone having less than perfect moments, doing less than perfect anything, looking anything but perfect. It just can't be so, people! We all have our weaknesses, our strengths, our nemesis-es-s-i...foes, proud moments, less than stellar moments, and everything in between.

The really cool thing about all of this? We have great friends who know all of the above, and continue to love us still. We tend to be so much harder on ourselves than others are on us. We gotta learn to cut ourselves some slack! It makes my day that there are people in my life who really think I have a good handle on so many things. And, to humor them along, I have decided to begin to believe them. I will rise to the occasion!

And seriously, for the record, this has been quite therapeutic. I have a tendency be completely incapable of taking a compliment. I have to think of all of the reasons why they couldn't possibly be right. This morning, I gave this all some good thought. I have come to a conclusion. It makes no sense for me to argue with those of you who think I have it all together. It really can only benefit us all in the long run, right?

Know that you are fabulous! If you don't believe it, pretend you do. Fake it for as long as you have to. Eventually, you will catch up to the rest of us!


PS I just reread this post and, uh, whoops. When I say "eventually, you will catch up to the rest of us", I mean that eventually you will begin to realize that you are as fabulous as we already know that you are. NOT that you will finally be as perfect as some of us are claiming too be! Sheesh. I could actually feel my head swelling with self-focus-ed-ness!

Lego My Lego

Following our Family Home Evening lesson on Monday, we had a family activity that was planned by one of the male persons that lives at our house. I am not sure which. The tall one says that the shorter one really wanted to do this activity. The short one says it was the tall one's idea. But in any case, it was fun, and very clever.

The two boy dudes at our house loooooove to play with Lego's. After building their own fleet of fabulously amazing cars, naturally, a race was born. The tall male came home with a large PVC pipe derby track. Boys.

Since the Testosterone Team already had vehicles, I set out to see what I could create. The shorter male was given a crash course in the differences between boys and girls. I dumped out the huge bin of building blocks, sifting through the wreckage for anything that looked car-ish, since I have noooo idea how to build a car. After asking me if I wanted help in gathering parts for my collection, Chase asked me what it was that I was going for, specifically. I answered, "Oh, anything fun, or cute." Chase threw a nervous glance, accompanied by a questioning giggle, at his Dad. What? Build a car based on cute? Can you do that? Different genetic make-up, I tell ya.

I do have to mention, however, my cuteness was apparently a little catchy. At starting time, Chase's race entries showed up at the start line, sporting some extra, and fun accessories. Don't knock it 'til you try it, bud.

This was the boy's first entry.

This was the Mom's one and only entry. My Seuss-mobile. I am quite proud.

These are the participating vehicles. Pretty impressive. The three in the middle ended up being the big contenders. Duh.

This is the derby track, and a very happy munchkin. He had just beaten his dad in the previous heat.

This is Heat 92. I was eliminated in Heat 3, due to the fact that my driver's appendages fell off, causing a debris field on the track. It's okay. I appointed myself Race Photographer.

This is the joyful, shorter racer, enjoying some sugary syrupy sauce, mixed in with a few snow cone shavings. I am not sure I can completely tell by the expression on his face, but I think the boy dude had a really great time.