Clairey to the Sock-Monkey-Man:
"When my get big, my going to have tampons!" [insert huge smile]
Seriously, child, it's not that fun.
Apr 27, 2006
Apr 17, 2006
Dare ya
Claire was just sitting on the counter, while I was taking my medicine. I swallow the stack with orange juice, turn around, get some water to swish and walk back to Clairey. There's something frothy on the counter, which she's sticking her finger in and sucking on. Of course, I freak out, because I figure that it's some of my medicine that escaped the confines of my glass (I break apart the capsules and disolve it in juice)and landed on the counter. But before I freak out, I have a small moment of, "Wow, Prozac and a hyper 2-year old...bed before 10?" Nevermind. So anyways, I commence freak out, and say, "Oh my gosh! Claire! What is that!" and while I'm saying this, of course, I'm dipping my finger into the frothiness and tasting it to make sure it's not Prozac.
Are you ready for this?
"It's 'pookies.'"
Translation: "It's puke, you dumbass."
I just tasted my kid's puke. Send money. Now.
Are you ready for this?
"It's 'pookies.'"
Translation: "It's puke, you dumbass."
I just tasted my kid's puke. Send money. Now.
Apr 16, 2006
"God bless us, every one..."
Wait...that's Christmas.
Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Spring...um...[insert your higher-being of choice] bless us, every one... There, that should cover it.
So, Gamma (my mom) is up North, visiting the family. She left us all here, because she obviously doesn't care enough to be here on Easter to see her grandbabies that love her so very much. So INSTEAD...she's off galavanting around with my aunts and cousin Brit. Yeah, we know what you're doing "Gamma." Don't worry, I won't tell the girls that you have forsaken them for large amounts of wine, beer, and giggling with your siblings. MMMmmmmmHmmmm....I'm onto you, woman.
So, here are the girls. It was awfully hard getting a "happy" picture of them, since they've been crying for days because they miss their Gamma so very much...
Here's Jen...shying away from the camera--trying to hide her tears...
"I love you, Gamma!!"
"Uh, huh....SURE."
"We miss you!"
We miss you, mom, and love you bunches! Have fun with everyone!
Happy Easter, Happy Passover, Happy Spring...um...[insert your higher-being of choice] bless us, every one... There, that should cover it.
So, Gamma (my mom) is up North, visiting the family. She left us all here, because she obviously doesn't care enough to be here on Easter to see her grandbabies that love her so very much. So INSTEAD...she's off galavanting around with my aunts and cousin Brit. Yeah, we know what you're doing "Gamma." Don't worry, I won't tell the girls that you have forsaken them for large amounts of wine, beer, and giggling with your siblings. MMMmmmmmHmmmm....I'm onto you, woman.
So, here are the girls. It was awfully hard getting a "happy" picture of them, since they've been crying for days because they miss their Gamma so very much...
Here's Jen...shying away from the camera--trying to hide her tears...
"I love you, Gamma!!"
"Uh, huh....SURE."
"We miss you!"
We miss you, mom, and love you bunches! Have fun with everyone!
Apr 11, 2006
Apr 7, 2006
SPF!
1. Macro: take a picture of something ‘close up’. Don’t use your zoom, make sure you have good lighting and make sure you’re steady. If you have to, set your camera down on something and then take the picture.
2. NO FLASH: try swiching the flash off and taking pictures of your stuff without it. It may take a lot of pictures to get the right shot, but open the windows and find artifical light to get it to work.
3. Perspective: get up high or down low…either way, change the perspective of your picture..tilt the camera sideways. Change the layout of the picture. Instead of having the subject framed perfectly in the middle of the picture…move it to the left or the right.
Macro: Jenna and her cat, "Shadow"
No Flash: I like to call this, "Carnivore." My kids have a penchant for t-bones. Crazy.
Perspective: it's blurry, but still cute.
I know, no fantastic pics, but cut me some slack. I was unprepared, so had to go with stuff that was already on my laptop. :D
Apr 6, 2006
It's HNT!
Yay! Almost the weekend!
*if you look close, you can see the camera's reflection in the ball...
*if you look close, you can see the camera's reflection in the ball...
Apr 5, 2006
My very first WBW
...and I am oh-so-proud. Here I am at 6 years old. I was a bit of a floozy.
Actually, you'll notice I'm wearing tap shoes. I was a dancing hooker. Just kidding. It was for a recital.
Actually, you'll notice I'm wearing tap shoes. I was a dancing hooker. Just kidding. It was for a recital.
America's Favorite
Dear Kraft Foods,
You had me with the "Cheese and Macaroni"--indeed, it IS the cheesiest. I didn't think you could do it, Kraft. I didn't think, for a minute, that you could develop something that would rival powered-cheesy goodness. But you did. Oh.YOU.DID.
Your "Jet-puffed Toasted Coconut marshmallows" are indescribeably scrumptious. There's marshmallow! Then there's coconut! Together!! Life is good. And, indeed, you are right on target when you throw out the 'ol "Guaranteed Jet-Puffed Perfect!" Oh, you silly people. Of COURSE they're perfect! It's a coconut marshmallow! You can't f-that up!
So, I bow to you, Oh creators of coconutty-marshmallowy goodness. I bow to you.
You had me with the "Cheese and Macaroni"--indeed, it IS the cheesiest. I didn't think you could do it, Kraft. I didn't think, for a minute, that you could develop something that would rival powered-cheesy goodness. But you did. Oh.YOU.DID.
Your "Jet-puffed Toasted Coconut marshmallows" are indescribeably scrumptious. There's marshmallow! Then there's coconut! Together!! Life is good. And, indeed, you are right on target when you throw out the 'ol "Guaranteed Jet-Puffed Perfect!" Oh, you silly people. Of COURSE they're perfect! It's a coconut marshmallow! You can't f-that up!
So, I bow to you, Oh creators of coconutty-marshmallowy goodness. I bow to you.
Apr 4, 2006
He played with what?
Jenna learns lots of fun stuff in Pre-K--mostly little songs/games--you know: "Eeny-meeny miney-mo," "Hot potato," "Duck, duck, goose" etc. Well, today she learned "This Old Man." You remember it:
"This old man
He played one
he played knick-knack on my thumb"
Remember? I knew you would.
I picked her up from school, and she was singing it for me, and I was just eating it all up. They're so cute when they're not killing small animals, you know? So, she's going through it--the old man played knick-knack on her thumb, her shoe, her tree, her door, and on something she called a "shrive." Don't know what that is, but it rhymed with 'five,' so I let it go. She gets to six, and belts out: "This old man, he played six, he played knick-knack on my dick!"
Silence befalls me.
"Excuse me, Jen? He played knick-knack on what?"
"On my dick."
"Oh, okay...Hmmmm...actually, it's 'he played knick-knack on my STICKS."
"Sticks? Okay. 'This old man, he played six, he played knick-knack on my sticks...'"
Entertaining? Always.
"This old man
He played one
he played knick-knack on my thumb"
Remember? I knew you would.
I picked her up from school, and she was singing it for me, and I was just eating it all up. They're so cute when they're not killing small animals, you know? So, she's going through it--the old man played knick-knack on her thumb, her shoe, her tree, her door, and on something she called a "shrive." Don't know what that is, but it rhymed with 'five,' so I let it go. She gets to six, and belts out: "This old man, he played six, he played knick-knack on my dick!"
Silence befalls me.
"Excuse me, Jen? He played knick-knack on what?"
"On my dick."
"Oh, okay...Hmmmm...actually, it's 'he played knick-knack on my STICKS."
"Sticks? Okay. 'This old man, he played six, he played knick-knack on my sticks...'"
Entertaining? Always.
Conversations with Clairey
Clairey to me:
"My pooped on the potty today! It was big and stinky! Whew!"
Oh, if we could all be so candid.
Clairey to me (we were lying in bed watching "The Easter Bunny's Coming to Town"):
Her little foot waves in my face:
C: "Smell my feet."
M: "Clairey, get your feet out of my face."
C: "Smell 'em mom, smell my good feet."
M: "No thanks."
C: "MOM! Smell my feet![sniff, sniff] They smell goooooood!" (singing that last part)
M: laughing too hard to say anything at all
Me, mom, and the chicks went to The Cheesecake Factory on Saturday. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the likes of TCF, get down on your knees and thank God that you don't. It's one of those establishments wherein you gain 10 pounds from walking in the door and sniffing. It's like hell without the heat (and lots of waiters). So anyways, Clairey was wearing "big-girl" panties and she had to go pee. I rushed her to the Ladies Room and, as the stalls were all empty, we occupied the handicapped stall (you need lots of room when you have a potty-training kid--mostly to avoid the inevitable pee-stream that sneaks out between the toilet and the toilet seat). We're in there, and Clairey's concentrating really hard on going pee ("Mine pee's stuck!"), and someone else comes in, and occupies the stall next to us. No big deal, right? hahahahahaha...whatever. The woman, in the middle of peeing, farts. Loudly. I said a quick prayer that Claire didn't hear it, although waiters in the middle of the restaurant were ducking for fear of nuclear attack.
"Haha! That lady made a poo-stinky! HA HA HA!!"
"claire...shhhhh!!!!"
"Dat was LOUD! Hahahaha!! POO-STINKY!!"
I just covered my mouth and tried hard not to make any noises. Let me tell ya--I wiped that kid quicker than a wink, washed hands at the speed of light, and got outta there. Jeesh.
"My pooped on the potty today! It was big and stinky! Whew!"
Oh, if we could all be so candid.
Clairey to me (we were lying in bed watching "The Easter Bunny's Coming to Town"):
Her little foot waves in my face:
C: "Smell my feet."
M: "Clairey, get your feet out of my face."
C: "Smell 'em mom, smell my good feet."
M: "No thanks."
C: "MOM! Smell my feet![sniff, sniff] They smell goooooood!" (singing that last part)
M: laughing too hard to say anything at all
Me, mom, and the chicks went to The Cheesecake Factory on Saturday. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the likes of TCF, get down on your knees and thank God that you don't. It's one of those establishments wherein you gain 10 pounds from walking in the door and sniffing. It's like hell without the heat (and lots of waiters). So anyways, Clairey was wearing "big-girl" panties and she had to go pee. I rushed her to the Ladies Room and, as the stalls were all empty, we occupied the handicapped stall (you need lots of room when you have a potty-training kid--mostly to avoid the inevitable pee-stream that sneaks out between the toilet and the toilet seat). We're in there, and Clairey's concentrating really hard on going pee ("Mine pee's stuck!"), and someone else comes in, and occupies the stall next to us. No big deal, right? hahahahahaha...whatever. The woman, in the middle of peeing, farts. Loudly. I said a quick prayer that Claire didn't hear it, although waiters in the middle of the restaurant were ducking for fear of nuclear attack.
"Haha! That lady made a poo-stinky! HA HA HA!!"
"claire...shhhhh!!!!"
"Dat was LOUD! Hahahaha!! POO-STINKY!!"
I just covered my mouth and tried hard not to make any noises. Let me tell ya--I wiped that kid quicker than a wink, washed hands at the speed of light, and got outta there. Jeesh.
Apr 3, 2006
What's the theme?
What's the blogging theme for Mondays? I can't remember, so hopefully, it's, "I'm going to bitch and whine about all the random shit that happens to me Monday." How's that workin' for ya?
So...I ran two miles this morning. Not a lot, I know, but get this: NOTHING WAS CHASING ME. Oh yes. Now that's impressive.
I am a shitty runner.
This morning, I ran two miles without stopping. Okay, I stopped once. Well, I didn't STOP, per se, but slowed down to a quick walk. I thought there was a dead cat in the street and I had to slow down to look. Eh, it was just a wet and flattened newspaper. BORING. I might try this whole "running" thing again tomorrow.
On another note, my right hand is pretty swollen. I'd think I had broken it, but seeing that I'm sitting here typing away, I think it's safe to assume that I have not. And how did I go about semi-breaking my hand? I'll be damned if the fricking linen-closet-doorknob hit me. I was just walking down the hall, and it hit my hand. Don't know HOW it happened, as the doorknob has been attached to that door in the very same spot for the past 5 years, but it did. Asshole doorknob.
Other randomness:
1. Clairey's been peeing and pooping in the potty since Friday. REJOICE! The end of diapers draws near...
2. My dad was able to bump-out the boo-boo on my MiniCooper. Some dickweed ran into my front fender last week, and DIDN'T LEAVE A NOTE. The person also took my fender flare with them. Asswipe. But dad just saved me $575. Dad, you rock.
3. I have so much laundry to do, that I'm considering donating it all to Purple Heart, and starting over.
4. Jenna just informed me, that she knows the Hollaback Girl lyrics say, "That's my shit," rather than the "That's my SHIP" that I've been substituting. I tried to get her to believe that Gwen Stefani's a sailor. That SO didn't work.
5. Claire has informed me that I am a "silly monkey-box-head." Alrighty then.
6. I love chocolate-covered marshmallow bunnies. Actually, I like the chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs, too. And seriously, a serving is actually 6 pieces! Rock on! Somebody finally figured out that, hell, I'm gonna eat half a dozen, so just make THAT a serving. Nobody eats just one marshmallow egg--that's sacreligious.
7. My formal dining room table is a mess from a redecorating stint...that I finished 2 weeks ago.
8. I still haven't set all the clocks in the house. I'm waiting for little elves to do it for me. Screw the shoes!! Set my clocks, you little bastards!
9. I bought a Barbara Streisand/Barry Gibbs CD. That's more of a confession...
And so ends "I'm going to bitch and whine about all the random shit that happens to me Monday."
So...I ran two miles this morning. Not a lot, I know, but get this: NOTHING WAS CHASING ME. Oh yes. Now that's impressive.
I am a shitty runner.
This morning, I ran two miles without stopping. Okay, I stopped once. Well, I didn't STOP, per se, but slowed down to a quick walk. I thought there was a dead cat in the street and I had to slow down to look. Eh, it was just a wet and flattened newspaper. BORING. I might try this whole "running" thing again tomorrow.
On another note, my right hand is pretty swollen. I'd think I had broken it, but seeing that I'm sitting here typing away, I think it's safe to assume that I have not. And how did I go about semi-breaking my hand? I'll be damned if the fricking linen-closet-doorknob hit me. I was just walking down the hall, and it hit my hand. Don't know HOW it happened, as the doorknob has been attached to that door in the very same spot for the past 5 years, but it did. Asshole doorknob.
Other randomness:
1. Clairey's been peeing and pooping in the potty since Friday. REJOICE! The end of diapers draws near...
2. My dad was able to bump-out the boo-boo on my MiniCooper. Some dickweed ran into my front fender last week, and DIDN'T LEAVE A NOTE. The person also took my fender flare with them. Asswipe. But dad just saved me $575. Dad, you rock.
3. I have so much laundry to do, that I'm considering donating it all to Purple Heart, and starting over.
4. Jenna just informed me, that she knows the Hollaback Girl lyrics say, "That's my shit," rather than the "That's my SHIP" that I've been substituting. I tried to get her to believe that Gwen Stefani's a sailor. That SO didn't work.
5. Claire has informed me that I am a "silly monkey-box-head." Alrighty then.
6. I love chocolate-covered marshmallow bunnies. Actually, I like the chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs, too. And seriously, a serving is actually 6 pieces! Rock on! Somebody finally figured out that, hell, I'm gonna eat half a dozen, so just make THAT a serving. Nobody eats just one marshmallow egg--that's sacreligious.
7. My formal dining room table is a mess from a redecorating stint...that I finished 2 weeks ago.
8. I still haven't set all the clocks in the house. I'm waiting for little elves to do it for me. Screw the shoes!! Set my clocks, you little bastards!
9. I bought a Barbara Streisand/Barry Gibbs CD. That's more of a confession...
And so ends "I'm going to bitch and whine about all the random shit that happens to me Monday."
I vant to suck your bluuuud???
The smallest chick is frightening me. I'd love to be sitting here, typing, "Oh, little Clairey has a thing for babydolls and butterflies!" But, no, it's blood. The wee one has a thing for blood. ANY blood--her blood, the other chick's blood, my blood... The minute someone says, "OUCH!" Clairey's all in your face, asking, "You got bluud?" It's creepy, man. It makes me think I'm raising some kind of weirdo kid. Like, she's going to be the one in middle school that wants to dissect the frogs, because she's hoping they'll bleed. She's going to be all, "C'mon, man! Let's make it BLEED!" Ew. What's next? Kicking puppies? I can't take it.
She came running out of her room with her finger stuck in a cardboard box--I don't even know how to begin explaining that, so I'm not even going to try--so, anyways, her finger's stuck in the box. She was doing that two-year-old whimpering act, so after looking at her with total amusement, I released her finger from the clutches of the evil box. She looks at her finger, looks at me, and says, "My got bluud!" Of course, there is no blood. There's not even a scratch on her finger, but she's crying, "My got bluud! My got bluud!"
"You DON'T have blood."
"Yes! My got bluud!"
"Look. No blood."
She looks.
"Oh. No bluud?"
"No blood."
Then came a scream from the bedroom--Jenna hit her head on the bed. What can I say? The chicks are accident prone. Claire runs over to Jenna: "You got bluud?" Jeesh. What is it with this kid?
She came running out of her room with her finger stuck in a cardboard box--I don't even know how to begin explaining that, so I'm not even going to try--so, anyways, her finger's stuck in the box. She was doing that two-year-old whimpering act, so after looking at her with total amusement, I released her finger from the clutches of the evil box. She looks at her finger, looks at me, and says, "My got bluud!" Of course, there is no blood. There's not even a scratch on her finger, but she's crying, "My got bluud! My got bluud!"
"You DON'T have blood."
"Yes! My got bluud!"
"Look. No blood."
She looks.
"Oh. No bluud?"
"No blood."
Then came a scream from the bedroom--Jenna hit her head on the bed. What can I say? The chicks are accident prone. Claire runs over to Jenna: "You got bluud?" Jeesh. What is it with this kid?
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