Robots in disguise!
If you are around my age, you probably now have the theme running through your head. If not, sorry. But anyway, I think we are all at least aware of Transforms now, yes? If not, go visit wikipedia for a minute. It's not important that you know much about them, only that they are giant battling robots that can transform into objects like vehicles and such. OK, you don't have to visit wikipedia. I just told you what they are.
Anyway, we've had crazy weather here over the past few days. Powerlines are down all over the place. Trees are down, there are branches everywhere, and we were a little shocked to see the sun.
During all this nonsense, there was suddenly a very, very loud BOOM!
"What was that?" I asked Husband.
"Sounds like a transformer," he replied. Of course he meant transformer as in electrical equipment, not the giant robots.
"Transformer?" said Little Viking.
Do you see where this is going?
"A Transformer battling?" he asked in that adorable little voice.
"No, not that kind of transformer, honey," I said. "A different kind."
"Oh," he said. "So it was like Iron Man?"
What's really sad is after being immersed in all this boyness, I know exactly why his mind jumped to Iron Man when I said a different kind of transformer. *Sigh*
Monday, October 10, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Celebrity Context
Celebrity Context: noun. The knowledge that celebrities are, in fact, human.
I was reading an article in an online newspaper, minding my own business, when I happened to notice the sidebar. You know, where they keep all the bits about other articles they think you should read? Anyway, as I looked, the sidebar was full of celebrity nonsense that I don't understand why anyone would be interested in. And really, when you put it in a different context, the "news" is downright dull. I mean, the kind of dull that if a friend told you the same story about themselves, your mind would wander. If a stranger told you, you'd think they were narcissistic.
Let me give you an example. Let's say your next door neighbor went to the beach. Is that interesting? No, not really. Let's say that neighbor took his or her kids to the beach. Is that interesting? Nope. Unless, of course, you have some sort of hand in raising their kids, I guess. But, if that is not interesting then why on earth would someone care if a movie star went to the beach?
So, say a married friend of a friend of a friend is pregnant. Interesting? Not really. Maybe in a good-for-them kind of way, perhaps. What if said person was having pregnancy cravings. Would you seriously care to ask what kind of cravings if you've never even met the person? No? Then why do we care what kind of cravings a celebrity has?
This the part where many of you may stop and say, "But this has nothing to do with child-rearing. You have left what the core of the Mom-tionary." And this is where I say, "Nope, I'm getting there. Pay attention."
I don't want my kids falling over themselves at the sight of some star. I don't want them thinking that they are somehow under them because a celebrity's name is known farther. If there is some person in the limelight that has done something truly noble and they want to respect that person, that's OK with me. But really. I think enough is enough. That is why I will be teaching my kids that a movie star is nothing more than someone who is good at their job, their job being an actor.
I was reading an article in an online newspaper, minding my own business, when I happened to notice the sidebar. You know, where they keep all the bits about other articles they think you should read? Anyway, as I looked, the sidebar was full of celebrity nonsense that I don't understand why anyone would be interested in. And really, when you put it in a different context, the "news" is downright dull. I mean, the kind of dull that if a friend told you the same story about themselves, your mind would wander. If a stranger told you, you'd think they were narcissistic.
Let me give you an example. Let's say your next door neighbor went to the beach. Is that interesting? No, not really. Let's say that neighbor took his or her kids to the beach. Is that interesting? Nope. Unless, of course, you have some sort of hand in raising their kids, I guess. But, if that is not interesting then why on earth would someone care if a movie star went to the beach?
So, say a married friend of a friend of a friend is pregnant. Interesting? Not really. Maybe in a good-for-them kind of way, perhaps. What if said person was having pregnancy cravings. Would you seriously care to ask what kind of cravings if you've never even met the person? No? Then why do we care what kind of cravings a celebrity has?
This the part where many of you may stop and say, "But this has nothing to do with child-rearing. You have left what the core of the Mom-tionary." And this is where I say, "Nope, I'm getting there. Pay attention."
I don't want my kids falling over themselves at the sight of some star. I don't want them thinking that they are somehow under them because a celebrity's name is known farther. If there is some person in the limelight that has done something truly noble and they want to respect that person, that's OK with me. But really. I think enough is enough. That is why I will be teaching my kids that a movie star is nothing more than someone who is good at their job, their job being an actor.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
It's happened
It's finally happened. I've started to say it. The dreaded, "When I was your age..."
I used it today. And not in a very nice way. I just wanted the kids to *help* pick up the mess they made. That's all. Just *help*. But they wouldn't. And then it happened. In my angry mom voice, I said, "When I was Little Viking's age, I had to clean my entire room by myself! By the time I was eleven, my mom made us clean the whole house every day, including moving furniture, and our house had three stories! SOMEONE TELL ME WHY ASKING YOU TO PICK UP A FEW BLOCKS IS A BIG DEAL?????"
And honestly, I don't feel great about my mom tantrum. It was not the most mature thing I've ever done. And, in case you are wondering if all the things I said to my kids about my childhood are true, then yes, they are. Mostly. I might have exaggerated some of it a little bit. We only cleaned the main level of the house, plus the couple of flights of stairs. But we did have to move the furniture.
I used it today. And not in a very nice way. I just wanted the kids to *help* pick up the mess they made. That's all. Just *help*. But they wouldn't. And then it happened. In my angry mom voice, I said, "When I was Little Viking's age, I had to clean my entire room by myself! By the time I was eleven, my mom made us clean the whole house every day, including moving furniture, and our house had three stories! SOMEONE TELL ME WHY ASKING YOU TO PICK UP A FEW BLOCKS IS A BIG DEAL?????"
And honestly, I don't feel great about my mom tantrum. It was not the most mature thing I've ever done. And, in case you are wondering if all the things I said to my kids about my childhood are true, then yes, they are. Mostly. I might have exaggerated some of it a little bit. We only cleaned the main level of the house, plus the couple of flights of stairs. But we did have to move the furniture.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Dosaster Part II
Part I
Dosaster: noun. A domestic disaster.
For those of you who have been with me for a while, you may remember the horrible $700 plumbing disaster. (For you newbies, or those that don't remember, click the link at the top of this post.) Well, we had to call the plumber again. Thankfully, it wasn't an issue of leaky pipes this time, just a clog that we couldn't fix ourselves (easily). We are all about DIY here, snaking pipes and all that jazz, but for this we needed either a professional or a professional (read, ghastly expensive) tool and professional know how. So, with water from the washing machine backing up into the kitchen sink, I called the dreaded plumber.
The plumber we used last time was very impressive, friendly, and with the exception of a small snafu not of his making, timely. Seemed like a good company to call again. Unfortunately, this time around it was not the same guy.
Not even kind of.
Loud, rude, obnoxious, and a bit angry, this plumber did not impress me. At all. It started off with him calling me to ask if he could come 2 hours earlier than his original time. Fine, no problem, I'm here anyway. About 10 minutes after his call, he shows up, and this is where it gets fun.
Point the first: He's a loud talker. I mean, practically yells when he talks, and I can't stand loud noises. But, not necessarily his fault, and I do my best to overlook it.
Point the second: I had been instructed by Husband to approve work of around $100. The estimate the plumber gave was $140 for the job, plus $50 for BioClean which he insisted that we needed if I didn't want to be calling him back in a few months. So, $190 to fix a clog. (On an itemized list from our last plumbing job, the job itself, excluding the service call fee, was $20.)
Point the third: Although the job was going to cost nearly double what we thought, that is hardly his fault. However, since it was more than we thought, I needed to discuss it with Husband first. I told him I was to spend $100, and since this was quite a bit more, I would have to talk to Husband and call him back. Now, here's the part where his company lost our business. The plumber got upset. He didn't like the idea of having to leave to come back. It had been my experience with this company that they give you an estimate, they let you think about it, and you call them back to approve the work. There are even separate parts of the forms for estimate and the actual work. Apparently he didn't want to do it that way. I was getting more than a little uncomfortable, so I told him I would call Husband now and see what I could do. Only, Husband didn't answer his phone, so I had no answer to give. This hardly amused Mr. Plumber. He was not about to just LEAVE.MY.HOUSE. He said he was going outside to call his boss to see what he should do.
Um, what? YOU SHOULD LEAVE, like I told you to. But whatever. I was getting nervous and agitated. Then Husband called to tell me to go ahead and have it done. So I approved the work and he started.
End of story? Hardly.
Point the fourth: Mr. Plumber told me to fill the washing machine. I have an HE front loader (that I hate), so there really is no way to just fill the washer. You have to run a cycle, and the water doesn't go in all at once. As a plumber, I thought he should get that. He didn't. He was a bit annoyed by it.
Point the fifth: He made a comment about how much money he thought Husband made. Awkward, at best.
Point the sixth: He made a comment that he thought Viking Toddler is small for his age. Actually, Viking Toddler is in the 90 percentile for height, meaning that he is taller than 90% of children his age. Mr. Plumber went on to tell me that his boys are huge and are varsity quarterbacks and whatnot, and his 15 year old is 290 pounds, and isn't that just fantastic? Well, unless the child in question is about 6'5", no, although I'm not saying he's not.
Normally, a comment about size doesn't bother me. I've heard many about how tall Viking Toddler is, to the point that some thought he was starting school when he was three-and-a-half. But with everything leading up to that point, I was less than pleased.
Point the seventh: *If* I ever use this company again, it will not be with this particular plumber. I will make sure of that.
Dosaster: noun. A domestic disaster.
For those of you who have been with me for a while, you may remember the horrible $700 plumbing disaster. (For you newbies, or those that don't remember, click the link at the top of this post.) Well, we had to call the plumber again. Thankfully, it wasn't an issue of leaky pipes this time, just a clog that we couldn't fix ourselves (easily). We are all about DIY here, snaking pipes and all that jazz, but for this we needed either a professional or a professional (read, ghastly expensive) tool and professional know how. So, with water from the washing machine backing up into the kitchen sink, I called the dreaded plumber.
The plumber we used last time was very impressive, friendly, and with the exception of a small snafu not of his making, timely. Seemed like a good company to call again. Unfortunately, this time around it was not the same guy.
Not even kind of.
Loud, rude, obnoxious, and a bit angry, this plumber did not impress me. At all. It started off with him calling me to ask if he could come 2 hours earlier than his original time. Fine, no problem, I'm here anyway. About 10 minutes after his call, he shows up, and this is where it gets fun.
Point the first: He's a loud talker. I mean, practically yells when he talks, and I can't stand loud noises. But, not necessarily his fault, and I do my best to overlook it.
Point the second: I had been instructed by Husband to approve work of around $100. The estimate the plumber gave was $140 for the job, plus $50 for BioClean which he insisted that we needed if I didn't want to be calling him back in a few months. So, $190 to fix a clog. (On an itemized list from our last plumbing job, the job itself, excluding the service call fee, was $20.)
Point the third: Although the job was going to cost nearly double what we thought, that is hardly his fault. However, since it was more than we thought, I needed to discuss it with Husband first. I told him I was to spend $100, and since this was quite a bit more, I would have to talk to Husband and call him back. Now, here's the part where his company lost our business. The plumber got upset. He didn't like the idea of having to leave to come back. It had been my experience with this company that they give you an estimate, they let you think about it, and you call them back to approve the work. There are even separate parts of the forms for estimate and the actual work. Apparently he didn't want to do it that way. I was getting more than a little uncomfortable, so I told him I would call Husband now and see what I could do. Only, Husband didn't answer his phone, so I had no answer to give. This hardly amused Mr. Plumber. He was not about to just LEAVE.MY.HOUSE. He said he was going outside to call his boss to see what he should do.
Um, what? YOU SHOULD LEAVE, like I told you to. But whatever. I was getting nervous and agitated. Then Husband called to tell me to go ahead and have it done. So I approved the work and he started.
End of story? Hardly.
Point the fourth: Mr. Plumber told me to fill the washing machine. I have an HE front loader (that I hate), so there really is no way to just fill the washer. You have to run a cycle, and the water doesn't go in all at once. As a plumber, I thought he should get that. He didn't. He was a bit annoyed by it.
Point the fifth: He made a comment about how much money he thought Husband made. Awkward, at best.
Point the sixth: He made a comment that he thought Viking Toddler is small for his age. Actually, Viking Toddler is in the 90 percentile for height, meaning that he is taller than 90% of children his age. Mr. Plumber went on to tell me that his boys are huge and are varsity quarterbacks and whatnot, and his 15 year old is 290 pounds, and isn't that just fantastic? Well, unless the child in question is about 6'5", no, although I'm not saying he's not.
Normally, a comment about size doesn't bother me. I've heard many about how tall Viking Toddler is, to the point that some thought he was starting school when he was three-and-a-half. But with everything leading up to that point, I was less than pleased.
Point the seventh: *If* I ever use this company again, it will not be with this particular plumber. I will make sure of that.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Statements of Epicness Part...whatever this part is
Just today, I heard from my darling boys two gems.
Viking Toddler: "Nuts are icky. Pee nuts. It's their name. Pee nuts."
and...
Philosopher Child: "I want to watch Star Trek. The one with Shreck."
Me: "You mean Spock?"
Philosopher Child: "Yeah, Spock."
Viking Toddler: "Nuts are icky. Pee nuts. It's their name. Pee nuts."
and...
Philosopher Child: "I want to watch Star Trek. The one with Shreck."
Me: "You mean Spock?"
Philosopher Child: "Yeah, Spock."
Thursday, July 7, 2011
No, my name is MARTIN.
Wow, it's been a long month. Notice the lack of posts last month? Yep, there's a reason. Here it is.
The in-laws took Philosopher Child and Viking Toddler for 3 weeks out of state to their home. Awesome, right? I was so excited for the quiet. But, having never been without my kids for more than over night (and that was only one of them, not both), as we got closer to the time, I got anxious. Then I started getting panic attacks. In short, was sick to my stomach for much of that three weeks. Sucked.
But, they are home now. We flew out to get them and we all arrived back in our little but well loved house late last night.
But you know what's fun? Airport security. More specifically, going through airport security with children with imaginations. See, our kids have been watching Wild Kratts lately (warning, there's music when you open that link), and Viking Toddler has been telling everyone that his name is Martin, as in Martin Kratt. Hint, it's not. So, as we got to the entrance to security, a TSA agent was scrutinizing our licenses very, very close with a very suspicious eye. He looked at Philosopher Child and said, "Is your name [Philosopher Child]?" Philosopher Child dutifully nodded. The agent then looked at Viking Toddler and asked, "Is your name [Viking Toddler]?"
And then our dear, sweet Viking Toddler said, "No, my name is Martin." When I'm watching toys get removed from babies' hands and grandmothers patted down, this is not the time for that sort of humor. But, funny in hindsight.
The in-laws took Philosopher Child and Viking Toddler for 3 weeks out of state to their home. Awesome, right? I was so excited for the quiet. But, having never been without my kids for more than over night (and that was only one of them, not both), as we got closer to the time, I got anxious. Then I started getting panic attacks. In short, was sick to my stomach for much of that three weeks. Sucked.
But, they are home now. We flew out to get them and we all arrived back in our little but well loved house late last night.
But you know what's fun? Airport security. More specifically, going through airport security with children with imaginations. See, our kids have been watching Wild Kratts lately (warning, there's music when you open that link), and Viking Toddler has been telling everyone that his name is Martin, as in Martin Kratt. Hint, it's not. So, as we got to the entrance to security, a TSA agent was scrutinizing our licenses very, very close with a very suspicious eye. He looked at Philosopher Child and said, "Is your name [Philosopher Child]?" Philosopher Child dutifully nodded. The agent then looked at Viking Toddler and asked, "Is your name [Viking Toddler]?"
And then our dear, sweet Viking Toddler said, "No, my name is Martin." When I'm watching toys get removed from babies' hands and grandmothers patted down, this is not the time for that sort of humor. But, funny in hindsight.
Friday, May 27, 2011
No Girls Allowed
After dropping Philosopher Child off at school one day, Viking Toddler and I were walking home. We passed a bus stop where two elementary age girls were waiting for the bus to take them to the private school.
Viking Toddler suddenly took an interest in this sight, even though we see them EVERY DAY. Still, he blurted out, "Those are two girls."
"Yes," I said. Good observation for being a 3-year-old, I suppose.
"We don't have any girls in our house," he continued.
Wow. Thanks. Excuse me while I swallow my pride and try to tell myself that by girls, he meant sisters. That would be true. We don't have any female siblings in our house (unless you count me as I am a sister, but that's just stretching too far).
It reminds me of an old show called Ed, Edd n Eddy that I used to watch when I was a teen, as I found it amusing. In one episode, the boys are trying to figure out what girls like. Ed (the very simple minded one) declares a list of things that his mom likes. After a moment, he pauses and asks, "Are moms girls?" This is answered by a volley of "Well...I don't...technically...maybe..."
Meh.
In other news, I've rejoined a certain women-only gym. I'm approximately 7-10 pounds over where I should be (for health, not vanity), and have been for a long time. In fact, I've been losing and gaining the same freaking 5 pounds over and over for the past year. I figure it's time to go back and slim down a bit for health reasons. High blood pressure and heart disease run in my family, so it's time to do something about it.
Ok, maybe a little for vanity. I have a really cute bathing suit.
Viking Toddler suddenly took an interest in this sight, even though we see them EVERY DAY. Still, he blurted out, "Those are two girls."
"Yes," I said. Good observation for being a 3-year-old, I suppose.
"We don't have any girls in our house," he continued.
Wow. Thanks. Excuse me while I swallow my pride and try to tell myself that by girls, he meant sisters. That would be true. We don't have any female siblings in our house (unless you count me as I am a sister, but that's just stretching too far).
It reminds me of an old show called Ed, Edd n Eddy that I used to watch when I was a teen, as I found it amusing. In one episode, the boys are trying to figure out what girls like. Ed (the very simple minded one) declares a list of things that his mom likes. After a moment, he pauses and asks, "Are moms girls?" This is answered by a volley of "Well...I don't...technically...maybe..."
Meh.
In other news, I've rejoined a certain women-only gym. I'm approximately 7-10 pounds over where I should be (for health, not vanity), and have been for a long time. In fact, I've been losing and gaining the same freaking 5 pounds over and over for the past year. I figure it's time to go back and slim down a bit for health reasons. High blood pressure and heart disease run in my family, so it's time to do something about it.
Ok, maybe a little for vanity. I have a really cute bathing suit.
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