Clairey attended her first week-long camp from 7/10-7/15 2011. It was called, "Messy Munchkins," and was about an hour from our house. She stayed in a treehouse, with no air conditioning. All spelling and punctuation is exactly how she wrote it.
Sunday
I <3 U mommy. You are The Best! [then there's a picture of a tooth and a heart] In The showr, my tooth got rely loos! <3 <3 <3 <3 :) :)
Monday
Mommy I am haveing so much fun. it is asume. what are you doing? <3
Tuesday
I <3 U Mommy. I am haing so much fun! <3 kiss kiss woowoo Jass hans hans hans! to night i saw a coper head :( I donot like this camp i hate it
*The "kiss kiss" thing is our 'special' kiss. We kiss twice, then say, "woo woo!" then make jazz hands and say, "jazz hands!" The "hans hans hans" is her doing the echo of "hands." Yeah, we're crazy.
Wednesday
Mommy last night when i was going to slee I herd screeming I ran out my tree hous and ran in the cichin. an ges what ther was a coper head! bnana cild it with a hoe and then they berid it and then we livd hapaly ever after! <3
* "cichin"= kitchen. She has trouble distinguising Ks and Cs, because the C in her name makes a K sound. "bnana" is her counselor, Banana. They all have fake names.
Thursday
Mommy i have little bups on my stimmick and they ich. I <3 U!
*She got heatrash all over her back and stomach (stimmick).
Friday
I <3 U mommy I am so glad we are going home! I <3 U
All in all, she had a great time, and said she wants to go back next year. She's a sweaty little thing, so we'll probably send her to Camp Misty--where they stay in ac'd cabins.
Jul 18, 2011
May 5, 2011
This is my life. How's yours?
Ah, Facebook and Twitter--you make it so unnecessary for me to blog, because i get to spew random bits of well..RANDOMNESS at any given moment, rather than wait to write about it on here. But alas, here I am...
Alright..not going to mince words here. There's a dead lizard in our freezer. It's actually a leopard gecko, but who cares? It's a reptile, it's dead, and it's in our freezer. It's not, however, just hanging out next to the frozen peas. Like, you don't open the freezer and yell, "HOLY CRAP! Is that a dead lizard?" No, no, my friends. Steve the Dead Leopard Gecko is lying in wait within a special lizard sarcophagus. Wait...i must take a picture...
See? There he is--on top of the whole wheat tortillas, next to the...what is that? Breakfast sausage? Yeah, there he is.
Here's a shot of the top of his casket:
He even has a lining--it's red with sports balls on it. He was a sporty little guy--what can I say? Poor Steve--such a noble gecko. So loved by Jenna. I wish that he would've just keeled over, but that's not what happened...
On Thursday night, April 28th, poor Steve was just minding his own business, trying to stalk a cricket while Jenna and I watched. He missed, and was heading back to his cave for a Dos Equis, when all of a sudden, he went into convulsions. Or seizures. Or whatever it is when a gecko screeches really loud then just goes stiff and starts shaking. Jenna freaked the hell out, which, you know, she tends to do, and started yelling. A few moments later, what we had left, boys and girls, was a limp lizard. Please, no offensive jokes. This is a lizard's life of which we're speaking.
What the hell kind of lizard has a seizure? It looked like he was breakdancing, and i said so, but Jenna didn't buy it. Dammit. So i told her that i don't think this is normal lizard behavior, and perhaps, we may begin to be a little concerned about his general health and well-being. Of course, Jenna was crushed.
Friday morning, Steve hadn't moved much. As we looked at him, he began seizing again. This time it was for about 10 minutes...then his tail just flickered around for another 10 minutes. Really?? I MEAN, REALLY?
[Seriously--WTF? We have the WORST luck with animals. We recently killed 3 fish, and now it's GECKO DOWN. I. CAN'T. WIN. I mean, we have a cat that we wish would die, but that fat bitch is still alive. How does THAT work?]
Anyways, so as soon as the girls go off to school, I start scoping the net for "leopard gecko seizure," and other such gems. I found a few gecko breeders, shot them Steve's stats, and they all came to the conclusion that it was most likely a congenital defect caused by the el crappo conditions that chain pet stores buy their geckos from. YAY ME. So, all these breeders basically give me three options:
I picked up Steve. His little body was pretty much shot to shit at this point--he was just floppy and to be honest, it was kind of gross. I was afraid I was going to squish him. I looked at his sweet little lizardy face, put a few napkins in a tupperware, then put him in the fridge...Farewell, speckly Steve...
I couldn't take it. Ten minutes later, I took him out and put him under his heat lamp so he could warm back up. I could not be a lizard killer. Then i tried to hand feed him crickets and mealworms and calcium powder to make him better. I'm such a nurse, but NONE OF THAT SHIT WORKED.
Then, on cue, Steve started convulsing. He was hardly breathing at all. So, with a heavy heart, and reeking from germy gel because he is, afterall, a reptile so he carries salmonella, I put him back into the tupperware and entombed him in his wintry grave. --sigh-- I'm glad the light goes out when you shut the door.
Steve was in a lizard cold coma within 30 minutes, then i put him in the freezer and he quickly became a Gecko Pop. I DO wish this were the end...and if you're still reading this, you're insane. It's about a lizard, people. A DEAD lizard. But please...continue on if you so desire...
I knew that when Jen came home, it would go from "the little lizard we had for two months has died" to Code Red. I braced myself. The bus pulled up. I felt sick. I broke it to her gently; she cried--not as hysterically as we had prepared for--and then calmed down. I told her that we'd bury Steve beneath our little tree, and plant flowers there to commemerate his lovely lizardy life.
On Sunday, I went to grab the shovel to dig the hole for Steve. The damn yard crew must have taken it.
Status: Frozen lizard--still next to the tortillas.
Alright..not going to mince words here. There's a dead lizard in our freezer. It's actually a leopard gecko, but who cares? It's a reptile, it's dead, and it's in our freezer. It's not, however, just hanging out next to the frozen peas. Like, you don't open the freezer and yell, "HOLY CRAP! Is that a dead lizard?" No, no, my friends. Steve the Dead Leopard Gecko is lying in wait within a special lizard sarcophagus. Wait...i must take a picture...
Here's a shot of the top of his casket:
He even has a lining--it's red with sports balls on it. He was a sporty little guy--what can I say? Poor Steve--such a noble gecko. So loved by Jenna. I wish that he would've just keeled over, but that's not what happened...
On Thursday night, April 28th, poor Steve was just minding his own business, trying to stalk a cricket while Jenna and I watched. He missed, and was heading back to his cave for a Dos Equis, when all of a sudden, he went into convulsions. Or seizures. Or whatever it is when a gecko screeches really loud then just goes stiff and starts shaking. Jenna freaked the hell out, which, you know, she tends to do, and started yelling. A few moments later, what we had left, boys and girls, was a limp lizard. Please, no offensive jokes. This is a lizard's life of which we're speaking.
What the hell kind of lizard has a seizure? It looked like he was breakdancing, and i said so, but Jenna didn't buy it. Dammit. So i told her that i don't think this is normal lizard behavior, and perhaps, we may begin to be a little concerned about his general health and well-being. Of course, Jenna was crushed.
Friday morning, Steve hadn't moved much. As we looked at him, he began seizing again. This time it was for about 10 minutes...then his tail just flickered around for another 10 minutes. Really?? I MEAN, REALLY?
[Seriously--WTF? We have the WORST luck with animals. We recently killed 3 fish, and now it's GECKO DOWN. I. CAN'T. WIN. I mean, we have a cat that we wish would die, but that fat bitch is still alive. How does THAT work?]
Anyways, so as soon as the girls go off to school, I start scoping the net for "leopard gecko seizure," and other such gems. I found a few gecko breeders, shot them Steve's stats, and they all came to the conclusion that it was most likely a congenital defect caused by the el crappo conditions that chain pet stores buy their geckos from. YAY ME. So, all these breeders basically give me three options:
- I can take Steve the Seizing Reptile to the vet and have the vet put him down.
- I can wait for him to die himself (he'll either starve or die of dehydration, since he's now practically paralyzed).
- I can refrigerate him, then when he's in a reptile coma, put him in the freezer.
I picked up Steve. His little body was pretty much shot to shit at this point--he was just floppy and to be honest, it was kind of gross. I was afraid I was going to squish him. I looked at his sweet little lizardy face, put a few napkins in a tupperware, then put him in the fridge...Farewell, speckly Steve...
I couldn't take it. Ten minutes later, I took him out and put him under his heat lamp so he could warm back up. I could not be a lizard killer. Then i tried to hand feed him crickets and mealworms and calcium powder to make him better. I'm such a nurse, but NONE OF THAT SHIT WORKED.
Then, on cue, Steve started convulsing. He was hardly breathing at all. So, with a heavy heart, and reeking from germy gel because he is, afterall, a reptile so he carries salmonella, I put him back into the tupperware and entombed him in his wintry grave. --sigh-- I'm glad the light goes out when you shut the door.
Steve was in a lizard cold coma within 30 minutes, then i put him in the freezer and he quickly became a Gecko Pop. I DO wish this were the end...and if you're still reading this, you're insane. It's about a lizard, people. A DEAD lizard. But please...continue on if you so desire...
I knew that when Jen came home, it would go from "the little lizard we had for two months has died" to Code Red. I braced myself. The bus pulled up. I felt sick. I broke it to her gently; she cried--not as hysterically as we had prepared for--and then calmed down. I told her that we'd bury Steve beneath our little tree, and plant flowers there to commemerate his lovely lizardy life.
On Sunday, I went to grab the shovel to dig the hole for Steve. The damn yard crew must have taken it.
Status: Frozen lizard--still next to the tortillas.
Mar 29, 2011
Hormone-itis
Jenna is 9. Jenna is becoming hormonal. We should all pack and move to another country before it gets out of hand. Oh wait...too late.
On Sunday night, Jenna was in a real state. A real state of WHACKED OUT, is what it was. She had just come back from a really bad Girl Scout camping exprience, and apparently, while at GS camp, she contracted a major case of hormone-itis.
Sunday evening, she sat at the breakfast table, bawling, because of the so-called 'nature' center this campground had. Apparently, there was a bobcat display that, according to Jen's description, was 'just a head and a bunch of clumpy fur lying around.' Now, in MY head, i'm picturing a diseased carcass with tufts of fur that have been ripped off it's body just blowing around in a box--the kid has a way with descriptions. Regardless, the bobcat display bothered her. HORRIBLY. Horribly enough, in fact, that I had to listen to her cry about it for about 25 minutes. And not just cry, but well up with tears and get all slobbery and messy about it. I must see this bobcat exhibit. Somewhere in between the sobfest, I started making spaghetti for dinner [yes, this sounds random, but remember this little tidbit]. Jenna offered to help, and I said okay--simply because i wanted her to stop crying. But THEN, because we were on the subject of 'nature' exhibits, she started talking about the Africa exhibit at the museum. THAT started another whole round of sobs. She hadn't realized, up until this point, I guess, that those were REAL lions/cheetahs/etc. that have been immortalized through the fun of filling 'em full of stuffing. So I spent the next 15 minutes telling her that no, people do NOT go out and shoot these animals simply for the fun of stuffing them and putting them in a museum. She FINALLY started to settle down.
I shot a glance over to the stove and saw that the water was boiling, "Oh, the water's boiling!" and I got up to throw the noodles in. Jen broke out into wailing tears and ran into the bathroom. Clairey just looked at me like, "What the hell???"
"That's DEFINITELY hormonal," I said.
"I don't like this," she said.
Because, truthfully, no one is ready for the wrath of hormones. NO ONE. No one is safe.
I gave Jen a minute, then walked to the bathroom and opened the door. She was sitting up on the counter, hunched into a ball, sniffing. I put my hand on her shoulder, "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I should have KNOOOOOOWN!!!" she wailed.
"Known what?"
"That the water was BOILING!!!" and more hysterical crying ensued. I tried not to laugh. I did well (patting myself on the back).
"Um...it's okay that you didn't know the water was boiling. I'm not mad that you didn't know. Really, it's okay."
"Okay..." [sob, sob, sob] "I think i've just had a really disappointing weekend."
I am SO not ready for this.
On Sunday night, Jenna was in a real state. A real state of WHACKED OUT, is what it was. She had just come back from a really bad Girl Scout camping exprience, and apparently, while at GS camp, she contracted a major case of hormone-itis.
Sunday evening, she sat at the breakfast table, bawling, because of the so-called 'nature' center this campground had. Apparently, there was a bobcat display that, according to Jen's description, was 'just a head and a bunch of clumpy fur lying around.' Now, in MY head, i'm picturing a diseased carcass with tufts of fur that have been ripped off it's body just blowing around in a box--the kid has a way with descriptions. Regardless, the bobcat display bothered her. HORRIBLY. Horribly enough, in fact, that I had to listen to her cry about it for about 25 minutes. And not just cry, but well up with tears and get all slobbery and messy about it. I must see this bobcat exhibit. Somewhere in between the sobfest, I started making spaghetti for dinner [yes, this sounds random, but remember this little tidbit]. Jenna offered to help, and I said okay--simply because i wanted her to stop crying. But THEN, because we were on the subject of 'nature' exhibits, she started talking about the Africa exhibit at the museum. THAT started another whole round of sobs. She hadn't realized, up until this point, I guess, that those were REAL lions/cheetahs/etc. that have been immortalized through the fun of filling 'em full of stuffing. So I spent the next 15 minutes telling her that no, people do NOT go out and shoot these animals simply for the fun of stuffing them and putting them in a museum. She FINALLY started to settle down.
I shot a glance over to the stove and saw that the water was boiling, "Oh, the water's boiling!" and I got up to throw the noodles in. Jen broke out into wailing tears and ran into the bathroom. Clairey just looked at me like, "What the hell???"
"That's DEFINITELY hormonal," I said.
"I don't like this," she said.
Because, truthfully, no one is ready for the wrath of hormones. NO ONE. No one is safe.
I gave Jen a minute, then walked to the bathroom and opened the door. She was sitting up on the counter, hunched into a ball, sniffing. I put my hand on her shoulder, "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I should have KNOOOOOOWN!!!" she wailed.
"Known what?"
"That the water was BOILING!!!" and more hysterical crying ensued. I tried not to laugh. I did well (patting myself on the back).
"Um...it's okay that you didn't know the water was boiling. I'm not mad that you didn't know. Really, it's okay."
"Okay..." [sob, sob, sob] "I think i've just had a really disappointing weekend."
I am SO not ready for this.
Mar 23, 2011
Of indivirdginal pictures and hobos
Sorry...it's always Clairey. Jenna is more refined in conversation and only talks about cheetahs.
Last night, as i was tucking Clairey into bed, she was staring off into space:
Me: What are you thinking about?
C: Oh, i'm just hoping hobos don't break into our house and eat my fish.
Me: [Where the heck did she learn the term 'hobo'??] Um. Okay. Why would they do that?
C: Because hobos are mean. Well, the BOY hobos are. The lady ones are probably nice.
I just stared at her, because really...what do you say to that? She continued on...in a different direction, because it's Claire.
C: The guy that took our indivirdginal pictures at school today was nice.
[Ahem...'indivirdginal' = 'individual']
Me: Well, that's good.
C: Yeah, but the lady that took our class picture was really mean.
Me: Oh, yeah? Why? What did she do?
C: Oh, she just kept yelling at the kids in the front row to 'STAND on your knees!!' You know what i'm talking about?
Me: Yeah...when you're on your knees, but your butt is off the ground?
C: Yep. Anyways, she kept telling Ashley to stand on her knees, but Ashley kept standing up on her feet. So the lady was getting mad and yelling at her.
Me: Isn't Ashley the "special" girl?
C: Uh-uh, but i gotta admit...she does get rather annoying sometimes.
Me: Clairey, that's not nice.
C: Well, it's true! She's really ann...Man, she has the GREATEST t-shirts though! Oh my gosh, they're SO CUTE.
Really??? This is how our nightly chats go. No direction whatsoever. It's entertaining, to say the least.
Last night, as i was tucking Clairey into bed, she was staring off into space:
Me: What are you thinking about?
C: Oh, i'm just hoping hobos don't break into our house and eat my fish.
Me: [Where the heck did she learn the term 'hobo'??] Um. Okay. Why would they do that?
C: Because hobos are mean. Well, the BOY hobos are. The lady ones are probably nice.
I just stared at her, because really...what do you say to that? She continued on...in a different direction, because it's Claire.
C: The guy that took our indivirdginal pictures at school today was nice.
[Ahem...'indivirdginal' = 'individual']
Me: Well, that's good.
C: Yeah, but the lady that took our class picture was really mean.
Me: Oh, yeah? Why? What did she do?
C: Oh, she just kept yelling at the kids in the front row to 'STAND on your knees!!' You know what i'm talking about?
Me: Yeah...when you're on your knees, but your butt is off the ground?
C: Yep. Anyways, she kept telling Ashley to stand on her knees, but Ashley kept standing up on her feet. So the lady was getting mad and yelling at her.
Me: Isn't Ashley the "special" girl?
C: Uh-uh, but i gotta admit...she does get rather annoying sometimes.
Me: Clairey, that's not nice.
C: Well, it's true! She's really ann...Man, she has the GREATEST t-shirts though! Oh my gosh, they're SO CUTE.
Really??? This is how our nightly chats go. No direction whatsoever. It's entertaining, to say the least.
Feb 28, 2011
The best Claireyism yet...
It's 3:47 pm on Monday. I just got a call from Clairey's first-grade teacher:
Teacher: Hi, Mrs. Wisdom? This is teacher's name here, um...i need you to educate Clairey about something.
Me: Sure...what about.
Teacher: Well, she was acting all 'loosey-goosey' today, and I told her to 'please settle down, or i'll have to call your mommy'. She looked at me and said, "Oh no! Please don't call the whore!"
Me: WHAT? She called me a 'whore'???
Teacher: Yes. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what it meant, so i quickly told her that that's a naughty word, and we don't say that. Then i had to deal with the group of little girls that were standing around, asking, 'What's a 'whore'?'
Me: I have no idea where she heard that. [Honestly, i really don't. I would say 'hooker', or 'dirty leg', but never 'whore'.] I'll talk to her!
And we signed off.
I looked at Clairey. "Did you call me something bad at school today?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Did you call me a 'whore'?"
"OH...yeah."
"You did. You called me a whore?! That's a bad word."
"I didn't know!"
"But why would you say that? What do you think it means??"
"I didn't want her to call you because that would be bad and i'd get in trouble!"
"So, you called me a whore."
"Yes! I said, 'No, don't call! The whore!!"
[and here, i figure it out.]
"You mean, 'the horror'?"
"YES! Don't call--THE WHORE!"
Teacher: Hi, Mrs. Wisdom? This is teacher's name here, um...i need you to educate Clairey about something.
Me: Sure...what about.
Teacher: Well, she was acting all 'loosey-goosey' today, and I told her to 'please settle down, or i'll have to call your mommy'. She looked at me and said, "Oh no! Please don't call the whore!"
Me: WHAT? She called me a 'whore'???
Teacher: Yes. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what it meant, so i quickly told her that that's a naughty word, and we don't say that. Then i had to deal with the group of little girls that were standing around, asking, 'What's a 'whore'?'
Me: I have no idea where she heard that. [Honestly, i really don't. I would say 'hooker', or 'dirty leg', but never 'whore'.] I'll talk to her!
And we signed off.
I looked at Clairey. "Did you call me something bad at school today?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Did you call me a 'whore'?"
"OH...yeah."
"You did. You called me a whore?! That's a bad word."
"I didn't know!"
"But why would you say that? What do you think it means??"
"I didn't want her to call you because that would be bad and i'd get in trouble!"
"So, you called me a whore."
"Yes! I said, 'No, don't call! The whore!!"
[and here, i figure it out.]
"You mean, 'the horror'?"
"YES! Don't call--THE WHORE!"
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