Friday, December 30, 2011

Not Getting You Know What From You Know Who

Aiming Low. How I LOVE writing for Aiming Low.

I get to write about funny things like what you don't want to get from you know who.

Come find out what I'm talking about, right here.
*Thank you, as always, for making me feel like one of the luckiest women in the world, finding people like you.  You all are the best.

Happy New Year!

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Resolved: Ways For My Children To Get To Know Me Better

It's almost the new year, and everyone is either griping about resolutions, or sitting down and carving out their determined plans for the New Year.

The New Year offers us hope to change things in our life that are important to us.

Today, at the fabulous TikiTiki Blog, I have my monthly post up, where I write about something that has become important to me as I, and my children, get older.

I ask, Do my children really know me? I think that with my new resolution, they can.

I truly hope you click over. Thank you.
*I'll see you before the New Year!! And thank you for the gift of your time spent reading what I write. How wonderful you all are, every one of you.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Movie Review Time

*Baby E decided to do a move review for his post. It's the 1964 so bad it's good Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. Worth watching with your kids, just once. Life wouldn't be complete without it. We found it on Netflix.

This is my first movie review. I will do more.

We watched this movie for Christmas. There is goofy music in this movie trailer.  I am dancing to it. You have to point your fingers and move your arms at the same way, at the same time. And only move one foot. And smile with your mouth open. Do it like this: and stay in one spot.

That's the only good thing about this movie trailer.

My big brother found this movie on Mystery Science Theatre. We watched it.

Santa Claus Conquers The Martians. It's really a dumb and lame movie but is still fun to watch.

There's this part where this polar bear that you can obviously tell it's just a guy in a costume. His paws are just tube socks over his arms and he pretends to attack these two little kidnapped kids.

There is this gun and you shoot rays at people and they freeze. When it fires it makes a cheesey sounds of Pop, like when you pop your finger in your mouth, and then goes waahwaahwaah like on echo fast.

The robot is like a cheap box Halloween costume. With a coffee container for a head. My mom wants a book on how it ever got made into a movie.

This movie is pretty much about Martians that try to kidnap Santa, they actually do, to make the kids on their planet feel happy about toys. Except there's this evil guy with a dumb moustache and an upside down scuba diver hat. He tries to get rid of Santa and then there's this other dumb guy whose name is Dropo and he is just not funny. But when he comes on they play music to make you think he's about to be funny.

Also, there are two kids on Earth that the Martians ask for directions from to get to Santa, then they kidnap them, too. So they don't tell Santa. Then they take them to Mars with Santa and have them make friends with the sad Martian kids. All the people on Mars have names that end in -ar, so you just take a name and add ar and you are a Martian. Steve-ar, Mark-ar, Sue-ar, Ken-ar.

The Martians have a really lame space ship that's got a toy box shaped radar thing. The space ship looks like a pencil. The scuba diver heads that the Martians have, have antennae on them that looks like a slurpy straw. They go to the North Pole and kidnap Santa. Then they know that the earthling kids are homesick so they let them drive home by themselves on an auxiliary space craft even though they don't know where they're going.

And no one ever gets hungry in this movie.

My mom says she'd be embarrassed if she was in this movie.

She says she wouldn't do it if they paid her all the money in the world.

She says she'd tear down the posters, and change her name, and move to a different country, and get plastic surgery.



**Note to Adults: to read more about this movie, you've got to go here. I had no idea it was a cult classic. The review is hilarious. Includes recommending watching this only while stoned. 

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Not A Time Nor A Season

"Christmas is not a time nor a season,
But a state of mind.
To cherish peace and
Goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy is to have
The real spirit of Christmas." -- Calvin Coolidge

I wish you a wonderful holiday season. You have all made my year so very rich.

Thank you.

Friday, December 23, 2011

If The Kids Only Knew Their Mother Wasn't A Saint

The joys of writing for Funny not Slutty. I just love it.

My monthly column is up at FnS today, with a post about the naughty things I used to do* when I was little.

*will spend today keeping kids from peeking over my shoulder as I check comments over there.

Have a wonderful Christmas/Hanukkah/Festivus : each one of you is so amazing, and are as beautiful as every ornament on my tree. Thank you for your support this past year, you mean so much to me!

Thursday, December 22, 2011

This One's For You, Sweaty

I meet some wonderful, endearing people because of blogging. On my About Page, I say it publicly: blogging saves my life, everyday. I can't imagine my life without it. One of the amazing bloggers I've met is Sweaty, from Do Sweat The Small Stuff. She writes of things that are what life is really about...if we stop and think and quit worrying about what others will say about us.

She is a rare find, and I love her.

I wrote a guest post for Sweaty, for this year of life when the world as she knew it split open. She's tough, she'll make it, but how much easier it all is when you know you've got people behind you. I hope you'll stop over to her place and get to know her. She's easy to fall for, and her blog feels like a trip to Six Flags.

We love you, Sweaty. Here's to 2012!

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Holiday Letter Discussion

Did you just run screaming to the other room as soon as you saw this?

It's the Annual Christmas Letter. Also not so fondly called, The ALCL (Annual Lying Christmas Letter), The ATSL (Annual Truth Stretching Letter),  The ABCL (Annual Bragging Christmas Letter.)

People love to write these. People say they hate to get these, but secretly, like a train wreck, we can't help but look. Some of us make an evening out of it; gathering up friends, lighting a fire, pouring the Pinot Grigio, and start ripping open the fat envelopes.

We write these, we receive them, but no one talks about them. You know, truth talks about them. Like, how they are *gulp* ridiculed. Yup. Made fun of. Passed around and taken to coffee klatches as a source of mirth and entertainment.

Is there no one to tell the writers of these letters that the chance exists, if they're not aware of it, of becoming the subject of tonight's mom's wine night out?

I will do it.

I'm at the halfway point in my life where I have to start knocking things off my bucket list. Holiday Letter Discussion is number 5 on that list.

Let's begin with assuming that everyone's got a good heart. I know I know, but let's just assume. You don't want to be boastful, right? You don't want to make everyone feel like they're the most underachieving family on the planet, do you? You want us, the ones on the other end, to know you wish us well and are thinking of us this holiday season. If we start at that point, then the rest will be a walk in the park.

How To Send Holiday Letters Out That Won't Make People Follow Up With a Request To Be Removed From Your Mailing List:

oAsk yourself, who are you writing this letter for? Really ask it.

oDo not write longer than one page. No buts. One page. End of it.

oNo $8.00 words, no matter how recently you learned egregious. Thank you.

oIf you've had the best year ev-er, if your husband is making money hand over fist, if your golden child finished up his third PhD in 18 months, we'd rather not hear about it.  Plain old happy news, like a new baby, new job, your first home, a first lost tooth on your kindergartner, your teen making the football team, your first writing gig; all good stuff we'd love to share your happiness over. But if you've had a bang up year and your home has increased in value over $100,000 again! Some things are best kept within the family.

oIt's easier for some of us to share happiness than others. For me, happiness and good things often feel foreign and like I stepped into that weird scene with the Gwyneth in Sliding Doors: Ooops! Wrong life! So, your effusiveness (that's only a 4 dollar word, not 8...) may sit with me as bragging. Bragging. Not catching up, but bragging. Bragging.

oThis suggestion is serious: be sensitive to your audience. Really. If you know of someone who has been trying to find work for most of the year, please don't send out a letter telling them how many times you've been promoted in your own job, or how may headhunters are after your awesomeness. Not nice. Same for a couple struggling with infertility; don't type up sentence after sentence on how everyone in your family is a fertile myrtle and gets pregnant just from the wink of an eye...Must be the water! LOL! This will only be LOL to you.

oWe know you want to make it fun, but Changing fonts and Shifting color changes leave me feeling like I've got an undiagnosed brain tumor. It does. And then I'll be too worried about getting an appointment with the neurologist before the New Year to pay any attention about your trip to Graceland.

oSelf deprecation is a great tool. Somehow, I'll listen about little third grade Tommy's history making ACT scores if you tell me how both you and your husband swear he's not from your litter and was dropped off by aliens.

oCount your adjectives:  if you've used wonderful or great more than 3 times in one page, time to stop.

oBottom line: you can't disguise bragging. We know.

I promise you that if you follow these suggestions, your Holiday Letter won't be turned into party fodder. Stick to these points, and no one will guess that you're telling us just what a GD good year you had. Even if you sign it, Here's to 2012! Though we can't imagine a better year than 2011 was!

Happy Holidays!

Monday, December 19, 2011

The Flying Chalupa Loves Hot Tamales, Especially El Grande Size

I'm having some great fun guest posting at Chalupa's place today.

It's impossible to not have some great fun when you click over to Chalupa's.

This woman has never heard of running out of the original, the creative, the so dang funny.

On this Monday before CHRISTMAS aaah!! I hope you take a break and click over to see the grand plans I have for my grande latte a**.

I think you'll want to join in.


The Flying Chalupa


Thursday, December 15, 2011

What Makes Us Remember The Things We Do

What are the things that make children remember a past so sweetly? When we close our eyes, and answer the question, What was your best Christmas memory as a child?, what is it about that time that leaves us silently smiling before we share our memory?

I have a holiday post up today at TikiTiki, one of the websites where I feel so honored to be a regular contributor. Besides sharing a childhood memory of Christmas past, you also get to see a picture of a very chubby wubby well fed toddler. See it here.... 


Wednesday, December 14, 2011

How To Feel The Magic Again In The Holiday Season

 You know what's easy to do? To fall into the rush of December. One question I asked myself years ago when I first became a mother, was if I wanted my kids to remember the holidays this way, with me running in and out of stores, parking lots, looking at the time and slapping my forehead.

We don't have to put the brakes on this season, not if doing holidays are your thing, BUT what if we take some of that energy and spread some love around to more than just our own?

Here's a list of a few things our family has incorporated as new tradition. Sowing these seeds of kindness will grow into a harvest of your children feeling the same heart urgency to do for others, in their own families. What a thought, isn't it? 

1. Ask at your church to forward a donation of grocery store gift cards to a family that is struggling. Our church will announce to pray for those looking for a job, and through confidentiality, they will forward your donation. Place your gift cards inside an envelope wishing them hope and remind them that they are in your thoughts and prayers. Wish them the warmth of the season.

2. Let your children pick out some of their favorite toys or games from the store; then deliver the gifts to a women's shelter so the children there will know that the world does love them.

3. Include your children in a trip to the grocery store for the sole purpose of donating to the food collection barrels there. Buy only items for the food barrel, and let your children choose the non perishables they think children in other families would enjoy. They'll delight you with their choices of red licorice, Oreos, and they'll remind you that people in need have children who want something special.

4. Rather than gifts, purchase an experience for your family: like tickets to a local production of A Christmas Carol, or another holiday show. Your ticket will support local arts and you know what every show needs to survive: an audience!

5. Take a trip to a bookstore with everyone, choose a holiday chapter book there. Read a chapter a night, together as a family. Write the date on the inside cover, and have everyone sign their names and write a short message. You've just created a keepsake.  

6. Sit and share stories with your family about some of your favorite past holidays. Tell them why you remember the ones that you do, and what made it so special. Ask them about theirs. What they remember will impress you.

7. Go for a night drive, or a night walk; soak in how pretty all the holiday lights look. Enjoy being together with nothing else to distract you.

8. Check out a colorful holiday recipes book from your library, one with lots of pictures. Spend time poring over the pages, and choose a recipe that you can make as a new family favorite for your big dinner.

9. Rather than dinner one night, make several holiday appetizers: serve them all on round platters, along with small appetizer plates. I found some plates at WalMart for a dollar each and the kids' reaction was as if I was serving them up on emperor's plates.

10. Have a dinner by candle light during their winter break. Not just one candle holder, but many, many votives scattered all about the kitchen or dining room. Talk about the happiness you feel in having everyone home with you. The glow of the table will bring tears to your eyes, I promise.

11.Come home from the craft store with an armful of those fun paint it yourself ornaments. I have found them for less than a dollar each. Spread out an old shower curtain and paint away.

12. Rent a holiday movie and have a movie night. Declare this THE must watch every holiday season for your family. For us, it's Elf and It's a Wonderful Life. My family knows these two movies so well, we'll toss out a quote and shout, "Name the movie!" Shared memories, deepened bonds.

13. Really: this one. Make a gingerbread house. It is fun so don't let the thought terrify you. You can buy the kits for $9.99 now. With everything you need. Have little cups around of cut up red licorice, skittles, raisins, gum drops, pretzel sticks, to decorate. SO MUCH FUN but let your 'neatness' tendencies somewhere else for this one.

14. Don't stress over the holiday cookie bake. You can buy already made rolls that you just slice and they're just as delicious as the hand rolled out ones. Always fun to decorate and frost. Make an extra two dozen and deliver them to a senior center. They have coffee get togethers in the mornings, and you'll find people there who have no one else in the world to spend the holidays with. Make a card, kids' work necessary!, wishing them a healthy, happy new year.

15. Remind your children that the joy of the season is in thinking of our fellow man. Present options to them in how they'd like to give to help those with less. This year, my children chose to donate two hours of their time gift wrapping angel tree gifts for a women's shelter. My youngest went caroling at a nursing home.

16. Donate to every coat and mitten and boot and hat drive you read and hear about. A quick search on the internet will give you info on where to drop off, what size items are needed. We gave a few items last year to a community through our neighborhood high school who had put out a call for Syrian refugees expected that winter.

17. I just read this one, suggested by a friend of a friend, and it's something we can do in any amount. Check in with a school office and ask to donate or pay toward the account of a family who is behind in their lunch plan payment. Some schools will say yes and you've just taken the stress out of a financially taxing month for a family who will never forget your kindness.

Let your family, and you, feel the joy in giving. When you hear your children say, "That was fun, mom, and it felt good," you will have the magic of the holiday season, of how we really are happiest when we do for others.

Glitter and all.

*Happy Holidays to all of you, I wish you peace, and the making of new memories that will delight the child in all of us.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Therapy Post

It is quite disconcerting to hear screams that continue from my children that are downstairs, when I am busy cleaning upstairs, and the father of the children is with them, downstairs.

It perplexes me that upon my return home after finishing working the hours at my job that is away from home, I am attacked by my children at the door with cries of, "Finally! We get to eat!" though the father has been home with them, in the house, while I have been gone, away from the house.

It is off putting that despite taping my husband snoring as evidence, he insists the footage I have is extraordinary and atypical, and that most nights he hardly emits anything above a nasally whistle.

It is disturbing that all four of the males that I share a home with have refrigerator blindness and I am the only one that is able to locate the orange juice and maple syrup in the mornings.

It is upsetting that though I ask the children to each take care of their own laundry folding and putting away on a weekly basis, that communal disturbances continue to break out between the age groups when it is time for the weekly laundry distribution.

It leaves me with head shaking bewilderment that though I am the smallest of three males in this house, I am the only one who is left unnerved enough by the howling coyotes in the field behind our home, to still be able to take out the garbage in the evening.

It baffles me to the point of cross eyedness that our children complain about "creepy, fiendish fields" around our home and ask why we're not able to live in a place where neighbors are five feet away as their friends do.

It frosts me to no end that though I have preached on the expense of the snakpak individual pouch cranberries that are reserved solely for lunches, and therefore have kept the snack cabinet filled with the large Family Sized Pouch of cranberries for home snacking, that the members of this household continue to snack at home from the expensive lunch snakpak cranberries pouch.

I find it quite annoying that I am asked "What's for dinner" as a disguised form of the question "Will I like it?" and then told I am overreacting when I answer with "You'll eat what you're served" when they say they are only asking a simple question.

I have a feeling of great annoyance as a result of the children's inability to properly secure the orange juice jug so that when I reach for the jug in the refrigerator it never fails to spill as a result of an insecure cap closure.

I feel my temples severely constrict when I see healthy children idly spending time on the family sofa, expending their energy on quick witted name calling and tossing balled up sweaty socks at each other, while the father of the children rests his eyes for "just a few minutes" watching a football game on the sole television in the house, while guarding the remote like an aging napping dog in front of his food dish.

I have feelings of mounting anger when I ask my children if they have put away their laundered clothing and they have answered me with a yes, only to find columns of T-shirts hidden behind the toy box in their bedroom three days later. 

I find it irritating and baffling when I am behind the steering wheel of the car and asked if I know where I am going by my husband. I temper this feeling with sarcastic thoughts of Poor Man, He must truly worry when I chauffeur his children around without the astounding availability of having him only inches away.

It is exasperating when I am asked for photo identification along with my credit card when making a purchase at a store, while the woman in line in front of me has only to provide the credit card. When questioning the clerk, I am told my handwriting is difficult to read. I tell her description is subjective and she exasperates me further with her response of a double eye blink.

I have a strong feeling of displeasure and find it extremely offensive that humans standing next to me in the cereal aisle feel it permissible to pass strong gas, as though the silence of it makes it a non occurrence. It demands tremendous self control on my part, as well as biting my lower lip to not turn and say, "that which cannot be heard will sure as hell still be smelt."

It vexes me that despite telling the youngest child that we are only purchasing things from our list while at the store, that I am asked twenty or thirty times to purchase things that are off the list. I find this feeling akin to drinking two pots of double measured coffee.

*Thank you, dear reader, for a much needed therapy session.  Payment in chocolate truffles is on its way. 

Friday, December 9, 2011

Shocking Newlywed Discoveries

 Aiming Low.

My post at Aiming Low today, where I go public with the shock of my newly married life 17 years ago.

And I still stayed with him.

You know you want to know. [Read about it here....]


Parenting Will Cost You A Good Night's Sleep, Here and There

I have a difficult time with disrespect. My blood pressure rises when a lack of respect is shown toward me. When it comes from my children, I cannot move beyond that moment in time when I hear that barrel full of words of disregard for me as a human, aimed right at my head. 

I feel we are to respect everyone we share space with. If we share a home and live with them, it goes double. If that person you interact with is the one who bore you, it rises to the millionth degree. I idealistically believe that if we show respect to our children, that they will mirror that back to us. So far, so good...until the piece of your heart that goes walking around outside of your body begins making testosterone by the gallonfuls.

I always knew I'd have exactly the tricks up my sleeve that I needed for being the mother of teens. I had such fresh memories of how I was raised during this part of my life, that I knew a whole lot about what NOT to do. That's all you need to know, right, what NOT to do? I never thought I'd need to have the ace in my pocket of what TO do.

Why am I awake right now, at 1:30 a.m., sitting on the sofa eating chocolate chips thinking of what happened in our home tonight, instead of sleeping the sleep I need so much? Because I love my children and when miscommunication between us escalates to a level where you start thinking how much you'd love to have them get their own bodies back and forth to where they need to go, make their own dinners, keep track of their own schedules and Dr. appointments -- well, that's not a healing, productive train of thought for anybody. No matter how good it feels. I am awake, buzzing with thoughts of what I should have done with my teen tonight; asking myself how I could have parented better. These thoughts of pro action are being interrupted by whizzing personal reprimands of all the triggers that flew from my side and right onto him.

I know what I could have done differently now, eight hours later, and it would've been the right thing to do. The mature, zen seeking mother I want to be Plan of Action. I have it. Right here, in three simple steps, how to put out that adolescent fire.

Taming a Teen in Three Simple Steps:

Step 1: So easy, just shuttup. Pretend you don't feel the sting of their words that feel so personal. Let them wail, vent, curse, explode at the crappy day they had. Don't interject, don't advise, don't smirk at the perceived miniscule events they're ranting on. Now is not the time. Listen, and drive: your two jobs.

Step 2: Go to your happy place when they tell you it's your fault they missed that important meeting/assignment/deadline. Later, you can bring up their own scheduling capabilities. The flame is high, don't throw the corn oil on it--avoid that after school explosion. If you need to, keep driving and take the long way home. When it all simmers down, show them how to keep track of school, sports, work, assignments, meetings, on their own calendars.

Step 3: This should have been Step 1, really. Pick them up with a snack in the car. Low blood sugar, a disappointing day, a minor break out on the cheek, and it's every man for himself. Have a bagel, have a travel pak of Pringles, have something. Let them crunch and munch and carb load while they unload. It won't hurt.

Warning: Be open to accepting a heartfelt apology from them when they give it, not when you're ready to receive it. As much as the non parent ego person that still lives inside you from years ago wants to shout, Fresh Wound! Damn straight you should be apologizing ...did you hear what you said to me? Don't do it. With a generous and unconditionally loving spirit, accept and thank them for their apology. They don't like being little sh*ts, either. And they know when they've been one. Just like we do.

UNDER no circumstance ever say, even under your breath, I can't wait till you're away for college. Never sink that low. We are the adult, they're not. Instead, think things like, Wow. You're sure ready to be on your own.

Keep a mantra ready. Mine is, This, too, shall pass. I've been using it for the last 16 years.

Most importantly, know that I do accept shipments of boxed wine. I find the crisp green apple from Franzia a delightful white that dances on the tongue.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Why Twitter Is Not Like High School

I ran across a post a few weeks ago called, "Why twitter is like high school." I didn't mark the post, so my apologies since I can't remember the site where I read it.

I do remember shaking my head and disagreeing with the author by the time I got to her second sentence. Her feeling was that twitter was made up of the cool and the uncools; she added that she felt excluded every time she logged onto twitter. She complained of her tweets being ignored and that other tweeters passed their clever word batons back and forth with their BFF's, while she just sat and eeked out -- nothing. She ended her post by saying that twitter took her right back to high school.

I left a one sentence comment, "with one big difference, we're not in high school anymore."

In high school, you have to see the people that you feel look down on you, or pass you in the halls as if you don't exist.  This is not the case on twitter: you don't have to see anyone you don't want to: there is the lovely unfollow/block button. If someone really upsets you, or gets your goat up because they refuse to acknowledge you, you can just one click unfollow them. Gone from your online life.

How satisfying would having that option have been back in high school, when Big Booby Liz bewitched and stole your Senior Class boyfriend away?  On twitter, you can block and unfollow Big Booby Liz: outta sight, outta mind, outta your life.

Score one for twitter.

Next, if you've been killing yourself to get to know someone and you're but a dust mote in their twitter stream, stop and think about why you follow them. There is a triad of local tweeters I follow: these three won't engage with me for nothin'... not even if I held their adorable pug over hot bubbling lava would they respond to a tweet of mine. But their tweets are gold to me: they know about everything going on within 200 miles of where I live. I'll keep following them; I know no one is obligated to interact with anyone on twitter. But, if following someone and seeing each of their tweets is like a poison dipped dagger slammed right in the center of your heart, then unfollow. Unfollow, take a deep breath, allow time for your broken twitter heart to heal, then latch on to another superstar that floats your boat. Couldn't do that in high school.

High School: 0 Twitter: two.

Twitter is the great equalizer. You have access to people like Alec Baldwin, Ellen Barkin, Kim Kardashian, Kelly Ripa. If they're on twitter, you can follow them. There's no way that you could be privy to superstars like that in high school.

Three and O.

The biggest difference between high school and twitter, is that WE ARE NO LONGER IN HIGH SCHOOL. We no longer have to be that overly sensitive, self conscious, begging to be liked little budding teen. We are grown people, a lot of us with families of our own. If someone ignores us, hasn't followed back, doesn't respond to our tweets, it's not life and death at this stage. Or, at least, it shouldn't be. Whereas at one time there may have been nothing more important than belonging and being accepted into a certain group, this shouldn't be the case in our lives anymore.

Our families are the most important now. Our health, our well being, our livelihood: these are the things that matter now.

High school may have been center stage and the be all to us once, but no more. Twitter is not high school: it is a fun tool, a business tool and platform for many, a way to connect for the majority of us on it. Connections take time. We can't instantly jump in and be part of a group, no matter how hard we wish it.

If seeing action on twitter that doesn't include you, or if seeing a certain someone on twitter causes you duress, if the sight of a particular avatar sends you reaching for the Xanax, then think about the unfollow. If you say someone makes you feel left out, or uncool, or not part of their group, think again about what following them does to you. If it batters your ego and sends you back to high school thought patterns, perhaps 'tis best you don't see them. You don't have to.

You couldn't do that in high school.

If you've been feeling that twitter is like high school, I hope you try and see it differently. I also hope you don't choose to continue with the mindset you used 10, 20, 30 years ago when you were in high school; the mindset of seeing mountains when they're molehills. You're an adult now; you can pick and choose who you surround yourself with. On twitter, it's totally your choice -- you design your tweeting world, and the people in it. In high school, you have no choice.

It's only 140 characters ... it's only twitter.

It's not like it's high school or something.



Monday, December 5, 2011

Fair Games Aren't Fair, Also Video Arcade Games Aren't Fair, Either

It's Monday, Baby E's post day; he posts here when he feels he needs to.

He's been practicing all weekend to outsmart the county fairs this summer. He tells you how and why today.

If you're new to Baby E's Posts, he posts on Mondays. You can go here to read his first post.

Thank you, as always, for listening. He is so lucky to have a place to go with all these feelings he has. Thank you for that.

Come on, kid, Guaranteed Prize every time...
I was practicing today for when the carnival comes back in the summer. I am going to be ready. I have a plastic cup and two ping pong balls and I am practicing since when I started on Friday.

Because I never win at carnival games. BUT, and there are a lot of buts, once I got 3006000 tickets and still didn't win anything. At another tent place.

Here is another BUT: they put gigantic prizes that are so hard to get just so you can envy them and try so hard to get them. AND spend money cuz that's what they want you to do.

Well, first of all, I would like to point out that there is ONE fair place: but "one" in out of a million.

Dave & Buster's.

I got a little Angry Birds Plush there, that's about 6 inches tall, for 600 tickets and you can get 600 tickets in only like playing 5 games and getting only a medium score.

This is a GOOD but: one time I got only 3,600 tickets at DAVE & BUSTER'S, cuz they're a great place, and for only 3,600 tickets I got an Angry Birds Plush, which I talked about before, a rainbow slinky--no, orange and white, and it was really, really long and cool.  And I got a fake bug that is really annoying. And two robot shaped erasers, and a nerds rope.

With only 3,600 tickets, that's why that's a good place.

At outdoor fair games, there was this one game where they said, "all you have to do is hit that target over with this ball and you get a prize," but they don't tell you the target is 20 feet away and the target is tiny. And that you have to hit it at the exact right center.

So, I tried to win a prize, and I threw the ball and it hits it smack in the middle BUT (and this is another bad but) the game guy says "You MISSED!" And then I don't believe it.  BUT I hit it right in the middle and he said you missed. And I know I didn't.

And then I tell everyone that is not a fair game place because I saw it hit the middle.

And then there's this other game at the fair where you have to sink a ping pong ball into a little cup and you win a hermit crab but the ball always bounces right out.

That's the one I'm practicing for.


ALSO: you should get these books for your kids for Christmas. There are books in a series:  Wayside School Books. Every page makes me laugh.


Thank you, Baby E!

**I'm also happy and excited to be guest posting for my wonderful friend, Sober Julie, today. She is celebrating her one year Blogoversary. Sober Julie is a woman who has a life story to tell that will live in your heart, always. I hope you'll stop over and wish Julie a happy one year anniversary of so many things.

Thank you, Julie, for including me in the celebration of your new life. It is a pleasure.  

Friday, December 2, 2011

How To Make Friends and Have People Like You

If the title of this post made your heart race a little, then it's safe to say that you want to know how to get people to like you.

I can't help you with that.
I had to turn to the internet for friends.

But I have an idea.

If you do the opposite of what I do in my real life, then I think you stand a good chance of getting to know some real flesh and blood folks. The kind that maybe will like you back.

Just follow these pointers to a social life that consists of more than one person:

Begin your day with a solid breakfast. Heading out the door after four cups of coffee and nil in the stomach makes for a very shaky school drop off (pun intended.) You don't want to be the mom in the car line laying on the horn to the van full of preschoolers being dropped off in front of you, shouting, "you droppin' off gramma or what?!"

Dress in a manner that invites a good first impression. We all want to keep it real, but if your daily life involves yoga pants with holes in them, then it's time to change it up a little. Also? Use a real ponytail ponytail holder in your hair, and not the inked up red rubber band from that morning's newspaper. Trust me, the inked up rubber band's a deal breaker.

Shoes. Shoes are nice -- throw some on, no matter how late you are. Your teen son's size eleven Converses tossed on your size seven feet, sans socks, do not count as shoes. People hand out extra potential friend points when the ones you wear are your own.

Call attention to your mistakes indirectly. A soft "Oh, heavens, I can't believe Johny forgot his lunch" falls much better on the ears than "sonuvabeehive that kid of mine would forgot his head if it wasn't screwed on. I've half a mind to just let him go without and then we'll see how quickly he forgets his lunch again with the memory of gnawing hunger..."

Be cheerful, even when you don't feel like it. Do not walk around with the biggest, blackest, most face esconcing made in Italy sunglasses that money can buy just because you don't feel like eye contact that day. Just.don't. Especially when it's cloudy out.

Learn to make a great pot luck church supper. Deli pick up and dumps will never make it past the mummy crew radar. If  you don't take my word for it, and still decide to go and hit the deli anyway, be sure you don't show up with that day's advertised 99 cents a pound macaroni salad special that's splayed across every flyer in town.

Remember the two most offensive words in the English language. No offense. "Gee, I wish I could be more like you and just let my kids screw up on their own, no offense." Yeah.

Be alert for opportunities to show praise. Words of praise and flattery, like sap flowing out of a tree, go a lot further in hoped for friendships than becoming the green eyed monster seething in covetousness. Who doesn't love to hear, "Oh, girl, I am digging your chunky zebra bangle right now." Works wonders to melt even the coldest hearts. They'll like you, even if they don't want to.

Be open and accessible. Do not tally up transgressions, snubbings, blatant cold shoulders. Don't be hatin' back -- rise above, continue to be kind, kind, and kind.  We can't control how others treat us, nor whether they accept us, but we can be the nicest version of who we are.

So, let's raise a cup of coffee in hopes that you may get lucky one of these times, and the next person you meet could become a friend.

And keep your eye open for a morning newspaper rubber band in their hair. I've heard those peeps make the best BFF's.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Forbidden and The Forgotten

Yes, I did just fall to earth
Tonight, the 2011 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show aired.

There was much in the way of ridiculousness: women in giant bird wings, super hero capes with thigh high neon boots, clamshell cage ensemble thingys, and even a little something for the latinas: a 5 foot tall awkward peinilla and mantilla. There were angels, devils, tramps and thieves; all culminating in which can only be described as featured left overs from a mardi gras parade.

All this for an underwear show. A fancy underwear show vs a fancy, underwear show.

I can't help but smirk when I think of the expensive, expensive underwear that gets purchased in the hopes of a little sumpin sumpin happening.

The only sumpin sumpin that'll be happening to that gossamer barely held together by threads knitted in a moonlit forest by faeries (vs fairies) that were bred solely for the purpose of producing Victoria's Secret gauzy underthings, is that those sparkly bands of fabric will get shoved to the back of the dresser drawer.

I must finish thine corset before the first wane of the moon

Banished to The Land of The Forbidden and The Forgotten.

It's a very nice effort, one full of hopes, Mr. Victoria's Secret, that those items will be used for daily living, but the truth is that women in the real world (those that believe in the cotton crotch, weigh more than 100 pounds and walk on sidewalks in flats not on runways in heels, whilst engaging in the high risk behavior of an acetate panty panel) are not going to pay that much for underwear with seams that will take on the fragility of an overused Kleenex if you sneeze too hard.

We just won't do it.

Not when you can find some perfectly durable, comfortable, no threat to your circulation 50 to a pack Hanes Her Way at Costco for less than $3.39 each.

We know enough to resist the urge to buy what you offer us. Victoria's Secret Models are the most beautiful in the world. They're like Barbie dolls. They have figures that aren't found pushing a shopping cart full of Hamburger Helper and Lunchables at MegaMart. 

That exact same gorgeous 3 inch wide band of lingerie on a VS model, will not look that same way on me.

It will not look the same way on me and I will be sorry. And disappointed. And regret ever thinking the possibility existed I could wear that. And then I'll have to sit down and eat 12 100 calories at a pop Weight Watcher fudgesicles while watching Bridget Jones' Diary.

Models are really, really different from you and me. Stare at something pretty for too long, and the mind begins to do funny things. Like tricking ourselves into thinking, Yeah, you know, if I double up on the hot yoga and the spin classes, I could do it...

No, no you can't. The only thing you can do is the clamshell cage. So, leave the underwear made from one thousand butterfly wings to the professionals. 

Besides, Hanes has animal prints out this year!

Whoa, that a double reinforced stitch all cotton crotch??


Monday, November 28, 2011

What I Missed By Not Black Fridaying It

This year, due to financial instabilities of the economy within the world of this household, we decided to not be part of the Black Friday money saving madness. *spending to save is still spending*

We're crazy, I know, because who wouldn't want two flat screen TVs when they're BOGO?

Because of me staying home the day after Thanksgiving in my well worn mismatched pajamas, sipping on Your Store Brand Here coffee by the steamy mugful, Value Deal Bing crooning in the background, I missed out on these sorts of deals:

Getting my face pepper sprayed for touching someone else's coveted doorbuster Xbox.

Being trampled underneath while lined up customers duck underneath a lifting store gate.

Carried away in a sea of humanity over $2 waffle irons.

Climbing into vats of sweet potatoes to get that video game.

And before you smugly think, Oh, this only happens at Walmart and Best Buy, here's a hipster crowd at Urban Outfitters, where the theft detector devices get trampled down in the insane gates opening dash.

This holiday, reject the spirit of greed and consumerism: and not just because of the economy, do it for your family. Teach them that the holidays are about sharing. A holiday season without any thought for the poor is an impoverished holiday. 

Think about this: 1 in 4 children in America goes to bed hungry because of unemployment, neediness, the mental and physical health of their caretakers. Can you imagine trying to fall asleep hungry? These children do, every night. helps you to feed these children. For as little as $21, you can feed a hungry family for 2 weeks. You decide whether your donation is used on a local or a national level. If you're not able to donate, you can volunteer to help. If you want to find out about food program eligibility, for you or someone else, you can click here.

Please, today, click over and learn more about FeedingAmerica. You don't have to decide to give anything, just read the stories there. Follow them on twitter, friend them on FB.

Take your time, there's no mad dash, no one's going to pepper spray you. You can do it all from the comfort of your safe home, in your pj's, hot steamy mug in hand--return home from your virtual tour without a black and blue mark on you.

Thank you.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Is This A Common Condition?

Did I ever tell you how lucky I am that I found a place that will not only take my stories of parenting mediocrity, but asks for them?

I am that lucky.

Today, at Aiming Low, I have a post up where I confess to you the condition my significant other suffers from.

I hope you are not affected by the same in your household, but if you are, let's exchange emails and commiserate.

Hope to see you here.
AIMING LOW: "Here at Aiming Low we strive for anti-perfection."

Friday, November 25, 2011

Letter To My 18 Year Old Self

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, full of good times and good food and goooooood naps.

I had a lot of fun preparing a post for the always sweet and supportive Jamie at her awesome site, Chosen Chaos,  for her weekly "Letter To My 18 Year Old Self."

If only we could go back and shake ourselves by the shoulder, or put our arm around ourselves, and let loose with the "If we knew then what we know now."

Thanks for the invite, Jamie!

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Without Much Thought Needed, My List of All I Am Truly Thankful For

It's good to close our eyes and ears to all that roars around us so that we can feel gratitude for that which is well and good in our lives. We hear and read about things happening in the world that give us pause, and nudge us to not take our blessings as a given. Throughout my day I'll have flashes of wanting to be still, and be thankful for all that my family and I have. Today, it felt good to stop the chatter in my brain and write what I am grateful for, here, in public display of deep appreciation.  Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

1.    I am grateful for my children, the greatest and most important things in my life.

2.    I am grateful for my husband; who is a good, honest man who loves his family.

3.   I am grateful for my health, my husband's, and my children's good health.

4.   I am grateful that we never have to worry about having a meal to eat.

5.   I am grateful that my husband and I both have jobs.

6.   I am grateful that we have two working cars in this family.

7.  I am grateful that if my children need boots or a coat, I am able to get them.

8.  I am grateful for the safe, clean neighborhood we live in.

9.  I am grateful for the excellent medical and dental care that we have.

10. I am grateful that I have a body that is able to do anything I need it to do.

11. I am grateful that I have children who love to hug and kiss me.

12. I am grateful for the mundaneness of my life, with nothing extraordinary happening.

13. I am grateful that this new family of mine has been spared any tragedy.

14. I am grateful for my niece, who has been my best friend since the beginning of time.

15.  I am grateful that have a close friend in my life who always acts as if seeing me is the best thing in her day.

16. I am grateful for my sisters and my brother; these are the people that make me laugh as hard as my children do.

17. I am grateful that I began this blog and for all the amazing people I've met through blogging.

18. I am grateful for the unimaginable opportunities that blogging has put in my life.

19. I am grateful for the people in my online life that keep me smiling and feeling that I am part of a community.

20. I am grateful that I am able to write in a way that makes people feel more understood and less alone in this world.
21. I am grateful that I survived PPD, and that my life online has helped me reach others who are in the midst of their battle.

22. I am grateful that I have a fighter spirit that will not let me be swallowed up by the daily knocking on my own door by depression.

23. I am grateful that because of this blog, my life has been saved on a daily basis by those I've come to love and come to count on, as part of my life on this earth.

24. I am grateful for the readers that come here and remain faithful to me. To these people, I love you, and thank you.

25. I am grateful that I still have a little boy who whispers to me at night as he falls asleep, "Hold my hand, mommy, I want you to come with me to my dreams."

Happy Thanksgiving to my dear, dear friends in the blogosphere. Thank you for your visits, your comments, your tweets, your DMs, your emails, your encouragement, your support, your beautiful posts.

I love you more than you can understand. xo


Monday, November 21, 2011

The Non Traditional Holiday Post

Blogging has opened up many wonderful opportunities for me. I am grateful for the places I've been able to write, and the people I've met that have offered their sites to me.

One of these sites is TikiTiki Blog, where I post a monthly column on growing up as a first generation American.

Today, my post on "Thanksgiving for the Non American" is being featured there.

And, today, I am grateful for TikiTiki Blog, for creating a community for all of us online to share memories, laughter, nodding agreement, and a peek into what life is like for others.

I hope you'll stop over to TikiTiki, and learn a little bit more about life in the USA when you grow up as a child of immigrants.

Happy Thanksgiving...and do I have to tell you how I am most grateful for you? Yes. I do.

Thank you. 

**An extra helping of Thanksgiving thank you to ANDREA, of the sweet, cute, funny, interesting blog, Maybeit'sjustme , for the Versatile Blogger Award. I appreciate this, and you made Baby E smile by also giving him this bloggy award. You're good people. xo

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Sometimes, I Get It Right

My coupons were clipped, and I was at the grocery store before nine o'clock on Sunday morning. My plans were to be in and out of our MegaMart and back home before eleven; where my three children would be waiting for me, hungry, knowing that Sunday morning meant my cinnamon rolls.

I grabbed the first cart at the front of the store and headed toward produce. Apples, grapes, bananas, oranges; we were out of everything and the grocery list I held proved it. I pulled off a plastic bag from the roll available and began filling it with the pears that were on special. Toss, toss, toss, three, four, five; I counted the amount I needed for the coming week's lunches. I looked around for the next item on the list.

Shoot. The grapes, I reminded myself, I can't forget the grapes. If this was the way things were going to go this morning, I'd be here forever. I made a U-turn mid-aisle to get back to the grapes I remember passing at the store's entrance. As I stood near the automatic doors loading up on the fruit I needed, I could see a tall man staring at me. I looked up, and recognized him from a church we had attended years ago.

I remembered that he had lost his wife suddenly while she was away on a business trip. She was only 39 years old.  At the time, they had a nine year old son, a twelve year old daughter, and another son who was fourteen.

"Hi," I said, surprised to see him after so many years. "Hi." He didn't answer back. "How are you doing?" I said his name twice.

He looked at me, not so much surprised as caught deep in thought. I saw that he was blinking away tears. "It's been eight years, you know."

"Yes, yes, I know. I am so very sorry."

I looked at his face. I put my bag of grapes into the shopping cart. I pulled my cart out of the way of the other early morning shoppers. He kept looking at me, not saying a word, and not moving. "Are you doing okay?" I asked, now feeling concerned for how disoriented he seemed. 

"You know, people are afraid to ask me about her. They're afraid it'll make me think of her. I think of her, even if no one asks me about her."

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why people do that." I offered up an explanation, "maybe they're worried they'll make you sad."

He looked hard at my face for an awkward amount of time. His eyes beginning at my forehead, then jumping to each side of my cheeks. His pointed his chin down, and centered his gaze on my feet. He kept his head lowered. He began to speak, his eyes still set on my black clogs. "I knew something was wrong when they called me and told me she hadn't come to work....she never missed work. That wasn't like her..."

I felt the thickness of the shopping list I held in my right hand. I could see the hand on the clock in my head pointing to nine o'clock. I noticed how red the rims around his blue eyes were.

"You know, if we move toward the store's bank over here, we'll be out of the way," I hoped my suggestion wouldn't embarrass him. "They're closed Sundays." I didn't take my eyes off of his face.

He didn't answer back. I decided to lead the way with my cart. He didn't walk after me right away, but after a few seconds, he followed not even five feet behind.

It was quiet, empty, out of the way, where we stood. "Please," I asked him, "tell me about that morning. I've never heard you tell the story about how you found out about your wife."

He looked at me, quiet, his two lips trembling. His eyes made even more blue by the contrast of the redness surrounding them.

Without a crack in his voice, he began, "I knew something was wrong when the hotel called. She was always on time. Never missed work. That day, she was going to do a presentation for a group of engineers...." The words fell out of his mouth, so many of them, fighting to get out first, as if they hadn't seen sunlight in a lifetime.

I nodded, watching him talk. I let him tell me the story of that morning eight years ago. I let him tell me how he decided to let his three children finish out the full day in school rather than picking them up early to tell them that their mother was gone. I listened to him as he told me how the youngest didn't believe him and insisted on proof that he wouldn't see his mother again.

I listened to it all until he stopped. Then he said no more, and took a deep breath.

And then he walked away. Saying nothing.

I stood and watched the back of his blue jacket head to the store's entrance. I don't know if he went back to finish his shopping or not. I hoped for a minute that I might run into him again while we were in the store because I didn't have the chance to tell him I was sorry. I didn't have the time to ask him how I could help.

I don't know how long we had been together, and I thought of how I hadn't even started on the grocery list I came in with. I knew I'd be getting back home late. It would be time for lunch and too late for cinnamon rolls. There'd be no time for me to use the money saving coupons I had been stockpiling for this morning's trip. 

I hadn't done anything I set out to do that Sunday morning.

But, somehow, I got it right.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Primer To Living With Chronic Mortification

I have a lot of fun writing a twice monthly column called "Memoirs of My America" at the fantastic humor website, FunnynotSlutty. Today, my post is up there where I discuss a side effect of being raised by people who are only in America "temporarily:" that of Chronic Mortification.

I hope you'll click over, and take another peek into why I am the way I am.
If you're new here and following over from FunnynotSlutty, thanks for clicking on home. Please check out my Best Of page and my About Me page.

If I make you smile, we can be friends on my Google Friend Connect, you can subscribe to my blog, follow me on twitter, or like me on Facebook.

All of that would be really, really nice.


 FunnynotSlutty is:
Funny not Slutty features comedy for women created by female producers, writers, humorists and comedians. FnS Original Productions have been featured by Funny or Die,, and Internet Video Magazine.

We Make Women Laugh

Monday, November 14, 2011

Notes On How To Make A Bed

I'm tired because my family never lets me sleep late

It's Monday, Baby E's post day; he posts here when he feels he needs to.

He feels he needs to today....must I tell you that he feels we again ran him ragged this weekend.

If you're new to Baby E's Posts, he posts on Mondays. You can go here to read his first post.

Thank you, as always, for listening. He is so lucky to have a place to go when life gets him down, thank you for that.


It's me.

I didn't get to do anything fun this weekend again.

My mom and dad made me do my homework all day Saturday.

On Sunday, I had to help with the groceries.

And my mom told me on Sunday I have to start making my own bed.

I don't like to do that because I told her I don't know how.

She told me to go watch my brother and watch and learn.

So I went upstairs with my brother and he was supposed to show me how.

I took notes to learn.

Here are my notes on How To Make Beds: (from watching my brother who is 14 years old)


oBe crabby

oDo it fast


oMake crabby faces

oTattle about mom to your brother

oWhen your little brother asks you a nice question be mean to him and say  "duhhhh..."

oTrip on the covers

oThrow the top blanket on top and say mumble mumble about making the bed

Those are the notes I showed to my mom.


Friday, November 11, 2011

Bil Keane, You Made It All Possible

This week, the creator of the cartoon Family Circus, Bil Keane, passed away. He was 89 years old.

Bil Keane was a self-taught cartoonist. His original series, Family Circus, debuted in 1960 and was syndicated in over 1,500 newspapers. He also ran with some big dogs: Charles Schulz, Erma Bombeck, Dilbert creator Scott Adams.

Most important for me, Family Circus was the first comic strip that I was able to read for myself.

Temptingly eye catching, Family Circus was a clear, boldly outlined circle, with just one scene taking place, and a one or two sentence punch line below.

What could be easier and more attractive to a child first learning to read?

There were some larger paneled strips, too. Those usually had the famous dotted line walks that Jeffy would take with his dog, Barfy. I loved that name, Barfy.

Still makes me laugh.

Bil Keane made it possible for a small child to read the funny papers themselves: a pretty grown up feeling thing to do.

Know what else Bil Keane made possible?

The Dysfunctional Family Circus!

These comics are from the now disbanded website, "Dysfunctional Family Circus."  In 1999, Mr. Keane insisted that the website be shut down.

But that was in 1999, the sweet and wonderful Mr Keane could not yet imagine how on the internet, Billy and Dolly live forever.

Stoned or not.
**Rest in Peace, Bil Keane. This woman here remembers how you helped her feel so proud when she was able to sound out your cartoons in the Sunday Paper. I just wanted to say Thank You.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

I Can No Longer Be Silent

I've seen it in broad daylight.

Too many crimes of this type being committed.

On really nice women.

Today, I spotted 5 within 3 minutes. That's one sighting every 36 seconds. 

Finally, this week, on someone who shops at our neighborhood grocery store.  

Lady Poncho at the grocery store Monday

Poncho Wearing Crimes.

I have never brought up a controversial topic on my site: but this. This is something I can no longer stand by and watch well intentioned women do to themselves.

Oh, they want this look to work; I see the hope in their eyes. It is their genuine puppy like eagerness to fashion please that has me using my blog today for the public good.

Poncho sins no mo'. Dear shrug wearing sister, take note: lest you become a victim of a carnivorous blanket. Or, worse yet: an unaware member of the dishrag wearing movement. Here is everything you need to know about the wearing of this garment that also graced the bodies of Andean beauties.

Poncho Wearing 101

 1.  Keep your look balanced. BIG poncho? You need slim bottoms: leggings, skinny jeans, straight lined skirts. Anything but the triple tiered Ma Ingalls.

2.  Your poncho should be no shorter in length than the bottom of a properly supported breast. Otherwise you have a capelet. And that's a whole nuther story.

3.  Your poncho should be no longer in length than fingertips. Also, you must be 5 ft 7 or taller. If you're shorter than that, proceed with caution.  Not a bad idea to stay home and grow tonight -- you could be inches away from the cape wearing horror of impersonating a SuperHero.

4.  Please wear something underneath your poncho. I know the expression is "I love them! You just throw them on!" But not every day is Lazy Sunday.

5.  Life is too short to wear a beige poncho. 

6.  One Size Fits All does not really mean that. Learn to say no to the strangling poncho.

7.  Sweatpants are not allowed under a poncho. It's an actual law.

8.  When having your own poncho day, avoid gaggles/murmurs of other poncho wearing women. You don't want to look like you just stepped off a ladies' club tour bus.

9. The poncho is a fashion accessory. That being said, don't accessorize your accessory with another accessory, i.e., no big knotty pom-pommed scarves tied around your poncho wearing neck.

10. You must switch to a slim bag when you wear your poncho. Carrying an airline approved legal carry on Guess bag under your poncho will transform you into The Elephant Man.

Wearing a poncho is a decision that requires respect for the garment.

Still see it as just a cavalier fashion fad?

Tell that to this lady. 

The Prison Poncho aka "The Great S'Cape"

The poncho: wrestle it to the ground and stick a flag in it.

Next on SVU fashion crimes: The Jeggings Jihad 

Sunday, November 6, 2011

My Weekend Was Not Mine and Now It's Monday

This is me having a good time like I didn't get to do this week end

Baby E post day here today. It's Monday, and -- as always -- when he feels he needs to get an outside opinion on the unfair state of his life, he turns to the keyboard.

Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. 

[if you're new to Baby E, you can go here for his first post. If he has something to say, I give him Mondays here as his space. He loves knowing that]

Here is his rant, which I typed out for him Sunday night while the words were flying out of his mouth: such is the injustice that he endured at our hands this past Saturday and Sunday. [thanks so much for tuning in...means a lot to us xo]

Hi. It's me, Baby E and my mom is typing but she cannot stop me from the stuff I'm going to say.

This weekend was not mine.

All weekend we had to do stuff for my family and I had to do it, too.

On Saturday, we had to drive an hour away to go to my big brother's Lego Robotics competition. And the car ride got so long and hot that I barfed.

My other big brother helped me.

But that is not a fun Saturday day for me.

Then on that day we had to wake up at 6:00 to get to the place on time.  This was on Saturday morning that I had to get up early like that.

That is not my weekend wish for me.

On Sunday it was nice out and that made me think "oh no" because then we have to rake and it is dumb to rake.

The wind comes anyway. It's just dumb.

Oh, but wait, I just remembered my mom took us to see PussnBoots on Friday. Yeah, that was a good part.

Now my mom says I have to remember another good part: Okay, my mom did make us cinnamon rolls on Sunday. That was another good part.

Oh, wait. And my dad did buy me a new Beyblades Barf prize on Saturday because I got sick because he is an old man that has to have the heat on superhot in the car because he is an old man.

And my dad is getting crazier. Today, I told him it was too cold to go outside and rake and he looked out the window and said, "I don't see that it's cold out," and I said DAD! You can't see the temperature!!

And then my dad, when he was reading the paper said, "Look, Disney is opening up a new resort in Hawaii," and my mom said back to him, Tell me dishwashers are on sale at Sears and maybe then I'll get excited.

And that made me laugh because I love when my dad gets powned.

And then I had to go to indoor soccer. I forgot about that. That was good.

Basically, I'm mad because my favorite day is Saturday and my favorite thing is screen time and that didn't happen to me this weekend. And my favorite part of the day is to sleep and relax.

And now it's Sunday and my weekend is over and it feels like I never got it.



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