ALL THE QUESTIONS!

Daddy and I have really been trying to stay healthy. We have cut back on breads, fried foods and sweets. Maybe I should stop with the French... HE has cut back on sweets.
And our kids have really been cheering us on!
"Mama, I thought you said you weren't gone have anymore kids," our youngest said, while nodding toward my stomach.
Such a sweet and thoughtful child. Cracking my knuckles now just thinking about him.
So there, I've said it- sweets are my downfall. This is why I guess I can understand, somewhat, why Daddy interrogated me recently about some donuts.
I was sitting in MY van in the garage. The door had just gone down, when he opens the door. Well, he "jerked" the door open!
Smiling, he peered in the van and asked, "Whatcha doin' out here?"
"I just pulled in here! I'm coming in," I assured him.
So he actually had the nerve to stand there and hold the door open for me.
Not normally this chivalrous.
I just gathered my things: purse, keys and a bag.
Now I did put the bag in between my chest and purse, only because it was easier to carry.
I was NOT trying to conceal the bag as he implied.
I sat down to relax and he continued with the interrogation.
"What's that white, sticky stuff around your mouth and hands?"
I'd had enough!
"Okay, okay!" You know the store up there where we get gas sometimes?" I began. "Well, I know you aren't gonna believe this, but they were giving out free doghnuts."
He sat back and folded his arms.
"Free donuts?" he smiled.
"YES! A free Krispy Kreme  doughnut for every twenty gallons of gas! That is why I got two... I got forty dollars worth."
I knew he wouldn't believe me.
The kids came downstairs and saw the Krispy Kreme bag.
"Mama got free doughnuts from the store up the street yall," Daddy told them. "Tell Mama to take yall up there to get a FREE doughnut," he smiled.
"Two per visit, per day and I don't need any gas now," I rolled my eyes.

It's Showtime!

Happy New Year!
We are continuing with our movement to make sure the kids eat healthy and stay physically fit. It's not a resolution but a continuation of what we regularly stress. So I made our 10-year-old daughter, a doctor's appointment for her annual physical.
This would be a big deal because she is older and it would be a more thorough physical. I wasn't sure what to expect really.
And on the way in our daughter asked the question that many kids ask, "Am I gonna get a shot?"
"No. You have had your shots," I replied.
I didn't think she would.
The nurse was nice and patient. "Hun, you can take your jacket and shoes off then jump up on here so we can get your weight and height." (In her Flo from Mel's Diner voice)
Her weight was in the 75% range for others her age and in the 95% for her height... which is just a little under two inches to be even with me.
So the nurse took us in the room and asked her to get undressed. She told her she could leave her undies and socks on.
"Then put this on and you can use this part to cover your bottom half," the nurse added.
That was a hoot! She put the little shirtly-challenged paper on the wrong way and I never heard so much crinkling, as she sat waiting for the doctor.
But the worst part hadn't come yet.
The nurse scanned her chart and nonchalantly pointed out that our daughter needed two shots. Uh oh!
The tears quickly came. She cringed.
The nurse looked over at me.
"Ummmm...you are probably gonna need backup!" I warned Flo- I mean the nurse, as I tried to calm her.
It was about to go down!
The nurse brought in her cute little bag with the syringe, cleaning pad and medicine.
Our daughter had so many questions!
"How far are you gonna put that needle in my arm?
Yep! It was about to go down.
I tried to hold her but she's so strong. They suggested bringing in another, stronger, male physician, to help hold her still.
She heard that and began putting on a show! In the end, she finally got the shot. The TWO nurses and I were all sweaty and exhausted. Yes! Another nurse had to come in. I felt like I'd done hot yoga. Needless to say the ride home was quiet.

Threat to Santa

I thought, after all the intended hints I made during the weeks leading up to Christmas, that our son had accepted that Santa was us!

Last year he left a note for Santa and I did not try to use a different handwriting- I used my own to respond. But it was obvious by Christmas Eve night that he hadn't accepted it.

He needed proof.

His little fingers were moving late December 24th. He wrote a firm note to Santa and requested Santa's check to his elaborate "Yes" "No" boxes. He told Santa NOT to think about eating any cookies before reading and replying to his note. The little rascal and his sister neglected to bake the cookies after harassing me to buy them.

He also wrote for parents nor grandparents to sign or check the boxes. As if!

The letter was a hoot! I had to take pictures!

Christmas Memories

It's Christmas Eve! It is killing our son to have to wait until morning to open his gifts. He just grabbed a candy cane from the tree and Daddy yelled, "No way!" I glared at him. "It's sugar and I do not want him wired tonight and up," he responded. I convinced him to let him have it. I mean it's Christmas time. "Okay. Maybe we can give him some hot chocolate spiked with some Ibuprofen," he mumbled.

He won't have to worry about the youngest one staying up late. He is never able to hang. He is all bark...no bite.

As I watch our son running around in his little elf hat, I started thinking about myself at that age on Christmas Eve. It was horrible what my uncles did! They convinced me that if I didn't shut my eyes really tight, not only would Santa not come down our chimney but he would shake salt and pepper in my eyes. I was young but I knew that if Santa was gonna bring me gifts he would have to come through the front door of our Section-8 apartment. But I really believed Santa would shake the salt and pepper in my eyes if they weren't tightly closed. So I laid still and closed my eyes tight... sweating... panting... hoping he would bring me that Easy Bake oven and that I would not get salt and pepper in my eyes nor would the ashes from my uncle's Newport cigarette get in my eyes.

And I caught one of my uncles and my mom eating the Chips Ahoy cookies I left on the coffee table! I remember getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. I saw a cookie raised to my uncle's mouth as he walked through the long, red, noisy beads hanging in the doorway that connected our kitchen and living room. But obviously Santa was nice and forgiving because he still left the Easy Bake despite not getting the snack I left on the coffee table.

Four Days Before Christmas!

It's four days before Christmas! Our stockings have been hung by the... gas fireplace with care and we know Saint Knick will soon be here... sitting on the couch watching a movie and yelling, "Stop coming down here! Get in that bed!" while eating the fondled cookies the kids cooked for Santa. I will routinely get my pen out and edit the youngest's note left for Santa.

The youngest (eight) made myriad Christmas lists. I think he started in October. We received the final copy about two weeks ago. He took the time to put them in envelopes for Daddy, grandparents and me. He addressed each of us by our first names! Later I realized the nice envelopes went with some of my Christmas cards so four people will be getting a holiday card stuffed in a plain white business envelope.

He went so far as to list the item and the price! And on a few he cut out a picture of it and glued it beside the name. How considerate of him.

And finally, under our Christmas tree are only real gifts... that we (parents) have wrapped. Five years ago the kids had such big hearts. They used newspaper, masking tape and a little white athletic tape from Daddy's first aid kit, to wrap gifts for us! They used a Gordon's fish stick box to put SOME of our son's legos in. That gift went to Daddy. The other gifts basically consisted of broken toys or toys they no longer wanted.

I have hidden the masking, duct and scotch tape. I've also put away the wrapping paper, band-aids and boxes!

Black Friday

I haven't written in a few months but that certainly doesn't mean that nothing has happened. We put away the vertically-challenged Mario and fitted Luigi costumes. I'm hoping to sneak them out of the bin when the kids aren't looking, and donate them to Goodwill. I can hear the kids inquiring about them next year, "Did you sell our costumes?" I've had maybe three yard sales and consigned toys and clothes a few times and they treat me like a crackhead!

November came and ushered in the biggest shopping day of the year- Black Friday! We've never talked to the kids about this day. I thought it was pretty simple- people break their necks to take advantage of supposed huge mark downs. I mean it's shopping!

Well our youngest obviously didn't understand all of this. He came up with his own meaning. One of his classmates told their teacher while waiting to go home for Thanksgiving break, "I can't wait for Black Friday!" "Really? Why is that?" she replied. He couldn't believe she didn't know about Black Friday. "Well he (pointing at our son) told us in class that Black Friday is when all the Black people get to go buy things really really cheap!"

Mario, Luigi and Skippity as the Ghost

They are at it again! I surrender- throw my hands up! I realize we are not parenting experts but our two kids are intelligent and I thought we were doing a fairly good job. What they recently did has me a little skeptical about their futures and whether or not they will be ready to be on their own in about ten years.
Halloween is around the corner. I took them to Party City to get their costumes. I really thought our oldest is too old and too tall to still be dressing up. She's tall for a fifth grader but still a kid. So it was fairly easy to get costumes. They wanted Mario and Luigi costumes!
"Let me get an eight for him (pointing to our eight-year-old son) and a...um... (sizing our daughter up) what's the largest size you have for kids?" I asked the store associate.
"A fourteen!" he answered. "But she's kinda tall and we do have these costumes in the bigger (adult) sizes," he informed me.
I scanned the bigger size wall. Then went back to the kids' wall.
The fourteen was $19.99 and the bigger ones were $29.99.
Yes I know it was just a ten dollar difference but hey I could use that difference to get me two white chocolate mochas from Starbucks later in the week!
They tried them on and yes her one-piece was a little short and the crotch looked to be pulling but hey she could put on some blue socks to match it and call it a day. She wasn't complaining. Too busy practicing her Italian accent in the mirror with the mustache upside down.
The associate's eyes went directly to the bottom of the pants. "We could-"
"We'll take that one," I interrupted.
Unless he was going to add cloth to it or offer buy one get one free... his opinion was not gonna be needed anymore.
So they were elated! So elated that they tore into the costumes in the car on the way home. The giggling in the back seat with the attempted Italian accents made me turn the volume up on the radio.
"Hey! If you play with those mustaches and they don't stick on Halloween, I guess you will be using scotch tape, glue sticks or a black marker!" I warned them.
Well they weren't content with the two of them having costumes... they decided to make a ghost costume for Skippity.
I didn't know about it until I heard our son yell.
"She bit me!"
"Who bit you?" I asked as I ran to investigate.
His sister made the ghost costume and convinced her brother to put it on Skippity. And they thought it was okay.
Skippity is one of our two, red-eared slider turtles. And Skippity is feisty!
I could just see the little bubble above Skippity's head:
"Don't you realize I am a dag-blamed turtle?"