Bustin' a Move

I was going to wait until I had nothing to do before returning to Blogland. With our visitors from Australia, a flooded basement, another water leak a week later, my daughter's pageant, Yellowstone, Disneyland.....I haven't had a chance to catch up! Then Seth shared with me this hilarious story:

Seth walked his girlfriend out to the car to say good-bye......his little sister (Mimi, 11) decided to follow them. As they had their arms around each other waiting for the right moment for the goodnight kiss, Mimi stood three feet away from them. Unaware of the awkwardness she was causing she stood there, dancing to the beat in her head, wiggling her hips and shaking her booty. The young couple looked at her, trying to give her the hint. Finally, Mimi said, "C'mon, Seth. Let's do the Macarena so we can go inside."

Personally, I like doing the Hustle.

Conversations With Ten Year Olds

Mimi called me at work today and the conversation was so good I had to put her on speaker phone so the other secretaries could enjoy it:

Mimi: You know how I was grounded this week?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: Well, I've been trying really hard to be a better person. Have you noticed I've been a better person this week?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: I've been trying really hard not to yell. I've only yelled about four times this whole week! I usually yell that much in a day!

Tonight as I picked her and Hannah up from the skating rink for a school skate night:

Mimi: It started off boring. It was boy's choice and that means the girls all have to stand in a line with their arms out like this (holding her arm out horizontally, waiting to be tagged). Luckily......no one picked me. When it was girl's choice I just skated around the circle - I didn't want to pick anyone.

I laughed thinking how different this conversation will be in a year or two.

Halloween Leftovers

Does anyone else have leftover goodies from Halloween? Notice there's never any leftover chocolate? I only have one official Trick-or-Treater now. This is Mimi the Diva. In other words she dressed as herself this year. It's all about me, me, me! It's hard being the baby of the family.
We had a little party at Randy and Kari's house. I loved the metallic bronze eyelashes that were discarded halfway through the night. I'm sure the reflected light had something to do with that. And, yes, they are as fun as they look.

We laughed and laughed and laughed. We laughed so hard our cheeks hurt, our sides hurt, our heads hurt, we were coughing, sputtering, hooting, howling, crying, snorting, breaking chairs, nearly wetting ourselves, and almost passing out from the lack of oxygen! Our kids were begging us to stop! And that, folks, is not an exaggeration. We were drunk on laughter. This is Ricky and Dianne.

This is me and my dear husband, Jared, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. I also dressed as myself this year. I already have next year's costumes planned.

The kids need leftover candy so we can steal it to give us energy for the Christmas shopping the next day. Did you hear they were trying to change Black Friday? (Linked up for my foreign friends that might not know what that is, since you totally miss out on Thanksgiving altogether.) I don't shop early on Black Friday. I don't like to see the ugly side of people. I think it's a taste of what it will be like when/if we have a world economic collapse.

So....coming up - my daughter Ali is performing in her high school musical - Opening Night Tuesday night, Nov 16th. She is Sandy in "Grease". It was meant to be her part - she was BORN in Australia, you know! She was speaking Australian up until she was three and a half. Seth spoke with an accent until he was about six. People would ask him how old he was and he would answer, "Fahv and a Hawf." I'll try to post some more in the next few days. Lots happening!

The Bull That Started It

Cheeseboy, you may want to skip this one. Your wife, however, may enjoy this.

Saturday night Mimi said, "Mom, I saw a commercial on TV and there was this bull thing that you ride with a diaper thing on it. But it wasn't a diaper. What was that thing?"

I tried to play dumb. "What? Like a saddle?"

"No. It was white and it was shaped like it would go on your underwear. Like it would fit between your legs. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh. Yeah. That's something that you use when you are a teenager."

"Well, I saw some at Laurie's house."

"Her teenage sisters probably use them."

"Well, what are they?" she asked.

"It's not something I can't tell you about in just a couple of minutes. We'll have a talk about it tomorrow after church," I'm thinking she'll forget about it by then.

Here's the commercial that caused the premature maturation conversation:

As soon as church was over she threw herself on the couch next to me. "Remember we were going to have that talk?"

So, this is my baby girl, she is only ten years old. She still sleeps with a teddy bear and wants to sit on your lap. She doesn't like boys yet and still likes dolls. Maturation Class isn't until the end of 5th grade. We are not ready for this.

"Those white things are called pads. Usually girls use them when they're teenagers or almost teenagers. You know how ladies are the only ones to have babies?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, inside our bodies is this little nest kind of thing and then the baby comes out of this tube. The nest is about the size of your fist and it's right above your bone right here." I drew her a cartoon of a lady with a cartoon reproductive system. "There's eggs in these little egg sacks and every month they take turns sending an egg to the nest. Our body gets ready to have a baby and if we don't have a baby, then our body has to get rid of the egg. So this stuff comes out of the tube every month for about 3-5 days and it's called a period. It's kind of like bloody snot. That's what we use those pads for."

"Ew."

She was very attentive, it wasn't too medical, I didn't giggle once and I don't think I freaked her out. She was so cute and smiling as we talked and I drew pictures. Thank goodness she didn't ask how the baby got in there.

"So why was there one on that bull?" That's what I want to know.

Lessons From Drama

So, I told you about my sucky letter that I got on Saturday. I was a bit emotional about that on the weekend but I'm good now. Just had to get it out of my system. I'm still a little bitter. I could spew out some sarcasm, I'm sure.

Saturday, as I sat at my desk and cried, my wonderful 17 year old daughter Ali walked in and asked me what was wrong. I told her I didn't even get an interview for the position at her school that I really wanted. I had told her about it before and she thought it would be cool if I got a job at her school. I told her they probably had someone in mind for the job already.

My precious daughter put her arms around me and said, "It's okay, Mom. In theater we learn that sometimes people are already picked out for parts. And even when you do your best and you try out for a part and you don't get it, it doesn't mean you weren't good enough. It just means the part was already given to someone else. There's nothing you could have done to change it. You're still a good actor and there will be other parts."

Really? Is she mine? How did I get a daughter so wonderful? My 19 year old son, Seth, came in and hugged me and said, "I love you, Mom." Mimi just came in and hugged me. My husband of course, said everything right and encouraged me. The dog reminded me that there was still ball to play and sometimes it gets stuck under the couch and you need someone to get it for you. There's a deep analogy there for you. My true friends have dived under the couch for me this week.

I'm feeling the pressure of improving my skills so I am not at the bottom of the totem pole but schooling is really taking a big bite out of my time. I love studying graphic design but it sure is hard having much energy for anything much after that. So I'm trying to decide if I need to cut to one day a week of school or what. That was another reason I was looking forward to having summers off, so I could fill in some more time with school. Well, I'll keep reading my fortune cookies and see what life has in store for me. Any advice?

Magic Mimi

This story kind of reminds me the old cartoon, "Hey! Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!" "RAWR!" What I'd really like to see is Obama pull all those promises out of his - but this isn't one of those kind of blogs.
I have a ten year old daughter who knows magic. Yep. She goes by the stage name of "Magic Mimi." If you were ever wondering, her real name is Amelia and her toddler version of her name was "Mimi", so it stuck.

Trick Number 1: When her grandpa was staying with us a few weeks ago she decided to show him some of her magic card tricks. She had her stack of cards (a very short, suspicious stack of cards) and fanned them out and told Grandpa to pick a card. He drew one from the deck and looked at it and put it face down.

"Make sure you memorize it," she said.

He looked at it again, "Okay."

"Concentrate real hard and don't forget your card," she says in all seriousness.

He cackles, looks at his card to humor her and says, "Okay. I think I have it memorized now."

"Now place it back in the deck."

Grandpa, who's played this card trick one too many times in his life does the old switcheroo. "Okay, close your eyes." She closes her eyes. He places his card in the deck. She then straightens the deck.

"Let me go get my magic wand." She then runs to the other room and returns with.........a glow stick! She taps the deck three times and starts rummaging through the cards carefully in one direction, then in the other direction. She straightens the deck again. She gets the magic wand again and taps the deck a little harder this time, three times, and does the same thing again. She's looking a little panicked now. She straightens the deck again and this time beats the deck with the wand three times and says, "I don't know what's wrong with this magic wand!" She looks through the deck again and she finally says, "Hey! Did you trick me?"

Trick Number 2: Mimi laid out 12 cards face down on the floor and told Grandpa to memorize his card. She mixed them all around and tapped each card with the "magic wand" once and then went back and tapped each card in rhythm three times. It was like watching a ritual. Then she went back to tapping each card once again when I finally said, "Okay, Mimi!" She stopped (got the message, the build up was too much.) Then she pulled a card up from the display and said, "Was this your card, Grandpa?"

He said, "I don't know, you never showed me the card in the first place."

In which we all burst out laughing and she said, "Oh, yeah, I forgot."

There's real potential there, I know. She knows how to capture an audience, admit when her wand is freakin' broken (happens all the time) and adds humor. We're bookin' her for parties now, so book early.

Adverbs and Butts

Today I played "Mad Libs" with two ten year olds. First, I had to find out what an adverb was. I knew it had something to do with verbs, but whatever. And who remembers what a predicate is? Useless stuff we learn in elementary just to forget when we're old and we need to prove to our ten year old that we're smart. I do remember the important life-changing stuff like the life-cycle of a caterpillar.

Mimi and her BFF didn't have a problem with nouns. Especially with using "butt" or "butt cheeks" or "butt crack" and speaking of lines, I had to draw the line at "butt hole." Then there were "boogers" and "poo". I tried to set a good example of words that didn't come from the bathroom. Yeah, right. Our stories were hilarious and the less they made sense the funnier the girls thought they were.

We love games at my house. Seth will bring his friends home and beg me to play "Scattergories" with them. It becomes very competitive. Friendly debates erupt because I have had 20 more years or more of life experience to increase my vast vocabulary. Even with teenage boys, I have to draw the line and tell a few of them to keep it clean. (Boys are so vile sometimes.) There have been challenges for words that we have the Internet ready to Google and some have even lost money. There was Cordon's word that started with a "D" that was an animal. We challenged the two point word "dik dik". Sure enough, there is a dik dik.
For toiletries/cosmetics and with the letter "S" I wrote down "sanitary napkin" as my answer. I was challenged by five teen aged boys. "That doesn't make sense." "Sanitary is a description, it's not part of the word." I told them to call their mothers. We looked it up and sure enough - there was a photo of a sanitary sanitary napkin. They were still murmuring as I gave myself a point.

Surprise Rosebuds

When I was in the bath the other day I was surprised to see.......rosebuds! Not those kind. If we were talking about those kind I would be mentioning the hanging baskets. A coworker gave us some nice homemade bath salts and I knew they had lavender buds in them, but not rosebuds.

Speaking of surprise rosebuds, Mimi once again reminded me that she needed a bra. She said, "Maybe you could take me and I could at least try some on. And then you could go back when I'm not with you and buy it, so they won't know it's for me."

I laugh, "Okay."

"So what size do you think I wear?" she asks.

"I don't know, maybe the same size as me," I say teasingly.

She looks at my chest, as if she hasn't seen it lately, and pulls her head back and says, "Nah uh."

So I guess I'll get one of those little halter thingies to help train her......rosebuds. Have you ever wondered why they call them training bras? What do you train them to do? Sit up pretty? Play dead? Dance? Mine only lay down.

Growing Up

My baby turned ten. I was really kind of sad about it on her birthday last Thursday. We spent the day together, shopping, getting her hair cut, getting party supplies, buying a "Build-a-Bear" knock-off. (It's the only thing close by.) Her two birthday parties stirred some other emotions, like homicidal tendencies.

We decided to have an "Alice in Wonderland" party and everyone was to wear a crazy hat. Nine crazy kids came to celebrate. Mimi went into show-off mode and it left me wondering how she had friends. Why do kids do that? They are like obnoxious drunks who can't do enough to try to get people to laugh.

Here's our "Tea Party." I actually found gummy mushrooms which I laid on the table for decorations. I searched high and low for these little bottles.

The kids watched "Alice in Wonderland" (the new one). They squeaked balloons until I almost went bizerk and ran in there like a mad woman, popping every balloon. I actually had a visual of this and imagined the looks on the kids' faces. I thought of the rumors; "Mimi's mom is just like the Mad Hatter." This is her cousin, Bryson. They are only a year apart.The day after her birthday, Mimi said, "We need to go to Wal-mart."

"What for?" I ask.

"I need a bra," she announces.

"No you don't," I said in a laugh.

"Yes, I do, too! You said as soon as my nipples start sticking out, that's when I need a bra!"

"I don't think you're nipples are sticking out," I said.

"Yes, even look!" she argued. Then she takes the neck of her T-shirt and stretches it over her chest to expose.....nothing. "See, it's starting to stick out." I'm telling you, it was smaller than a mosquito bite. Smaller than the zit on my forehead - which could definitely use a bra.

I could never imagine doing that in front of my mom. I think she just started buying me bras. I would have been embarrassed to attract any attention to that area of my body. Now, buying a bra is like buying shoes. The "Bra Fitting Specialist" goes in the dressing room to make sure it is adjusted right and the right size.

I went to a "specialty" store and after the lady came to check on me she turned and announced she would go get a bigger bra and announces my cup size loud enough for the entire little shop to hear. When I came out, ready for my purchase, my husband was sitting there with a smirk on his face. Then he says like a teenage boy in a locker room, "Bigger bra, huh?" He was so proud of my hard efforts of growing fat cells on my chest.

Cheesecake Happens

Last night I had a dream that my son graduated and he was wearing a cap and gown. The thing was - he was graduating with a bunch of delinquents. I have no idea what meaning that dream has.

I got together with my BFF on Friday night while my husband went on a medieval camp with Mimi. No, I did not want to go and when Mimi called to tell me goodnight, she happened to mention there was no toilet and she would have to potty in the woods, that was an affirmation of my decision.

Karen and I ate at Rubio's where I had a sip of water that tasted like it was fresh from the toilet. Really. It was that bad. Try putting out a flaming mouth with that.

Thursday, I came home from work and our conversation went something like this:

Mimi: Why are you wearing a shirt under that shirt?

Me: 'Cause everyone would see my boobs if I didn't.

Mimi: You mean your crack?

Me: Yeah. It's actually called cleavage.

Mimi: Your crack is called cleavage?

Me: Yes.

Mimi: Your cleavage crack?

It reminds me of a time we were sitting in church, Mimi was about 2 1/2 years old. She was sitting on my lap facing me and it was dead quiet during our meeting. Next thing you know she pulls my scoop-necked T-shirt out and puts her head in and says loudly, "Mommy! You have a bum on your neck!" I handed her to Jared and didn't look up to see who saw that one.

I can't wait to explain what an anal cleft is, AKA gluteal cleft. Makes it sound so intelligently special. "Cover up your gluteal cleft." I guess that's what the thong was made for.

Thursday night I had school and Mimi wanted invitations to her birthday party to hand out the next day, which was the last day of school. So when I was telling my friend at work about her turning 10 on the 10th of June of 2010......I started crying. I didn't cry when my kids went to kindergarten, I thought they were so ready. But my baby turning 10? AND my other daughter is going to be a senior in high school this next school year. She's hoping to get a singing/theater scholarship and she said friends are talking about scholarships being better out of state. I told her she's not allowed to go out of state. I would have to move out of state with her and be her roommate.

You may notice I've put on a few pounds since my profile photo from last year. It happens fast and it sucks. I'll blame my birthday when everyone gave me cheesecake. So tonight after a girl's night with Karen, I ended it with reading all the blogs I'm following and had some cheesecake to drown my sorrows (two girls growing up).

Dog Food Reviews

It's been a whole week since I last posted. Since it's "Oh My Heck Wednesday" I thought I would share a funny little story with you.

Mimi was opening a can of dog food, you know, the kind that you pull the ring on the top. As the lid snapped off the can a chunk went flying into the air and landed right in her mouth. She shouted, "Ew! A chunk got in my mouth!" Then she smacked her lips a couple of times and said, "Mmm. Not bad."

My experience with dog food was when I was just her age - fourth grade. We lived in North Carolina and we had a golden mutt that we named Thai. As in Thailand - that's where my dad was at the time on TDY for the Air Force. I borrowed a book about dog species from the school library and my five year old brother and I looked through the book, studying all the species and trying to find out just what kind of dog Thai was.

Page by page, getting distracted by all the species, the big ones, the tiny ones, the fluffy ones and then we found it. We were convinced that Thai was a genuine Dingo from Australia. We told all of our friends that Thai was a Dingo. This was about 1975 when most Americans didn't even know what language they spoke in Australia, and a few years before the movie Grease and way before Crocodile Dundee.

I remember pouring Thai some dried dog nuggets and I wondered what they tasted like, so I threw a nugget in my mouth and started crunching away. I then spat it out almost as quickly as it went in. Why did Thai get so excited to eat petrified poop? I don't think I had ever tasted poop before to my knowledge, but it tasted exactly like the smell of poop. I lost a little respect in my dog that day, but it faded quickly. I never touched his food again. Or any other dog's food, for that matter. When it comes to good food, how can you trust a species that identifies others by the smell of their butt holes?

Mother's Day

I know some of you are wondering what happened at my house for Mother's Day. Did my kids acknowledge me? Will there be Christmas this year? You remembered what happened at my birthday!

Mimi was the first awake. She was cranky as she always is in the morning. She handed me a Toblerone candy bar and says begrudgingly, "This is what Dad bought for me to give you, 'cause he wouldn't take me shopping to get you a present." Then she handed me two cards and still in her grumpy tone she said, "I made this one in Primary and I made this one in school. Dad wouldn't take me shopping."

Then Ali came up and handed me a store bag from the store she works at and inside were some earrings and a necklace. She hugged me and told me Happy Mother's Day. She got me some ice in a bag because my eye was all swollen and I had a big bag under it.

Seth gave me a metal rose that was handcrafted. He also wrote me a beautiful letter. He said in one part, "I've been thinking about all the favorite memories I have with you but I've literally been thinking for half an hour because there are so many....just a few of them though are - when I was a kid you taught me songs like "Gallump said the little green frog" and "How much is that doggie in the window." When I remember them it's your voice that sings them still." Is that so sweet? I use to sing a lot with the kids.

So, I guess Santa will come this year. I was going to give Jared the budget and let him do everything if the kids forgot me. I hope all of you had a great Mother's Day.

Modern Technology a Curse

No picture for today's "Oh my heck!" This time you'll have to use your imagination. Imagine a very rainy day when I got off work early. I thought I would have a small outing to the mall with my girls. Ali had to work at 5:00 at the mall anyway, and since her car accident we have been short a car, so that took care of her ride to work.

We shopped, got a Mrs. Field's cookie, bought a couple of fun things and Ali went to work. It was pouring down rain when we got in my van when I had a thought: If Jared picked us up after work, I could leave my van there at the mall and no one will have to go out again to pick Ali up at 10:00. Good plan. Jared agreed and I ran my keys back into the mall to Ali. Instead of dragging Mimi out in the rain again I had her wait in my van, but don't worry, I locked the doors while she played with her Littlest Pet Shop pets.

After giving my keys to Ali I ran to the van in the pelting rain and knocked on the window. Mimi came to the driver's side and pulled on the handle. "Unlock the door!" I yelled. She pushes on the window button. "NO! Unlock it! Push the button!" Meanwhile, the rain is POURING on me. She pulls on the handle again. Rain is soaking through two layers of fleece fabric in my hoodie. "Push the button! Right there - push it forward!"

"I don't know which button!" she's panicking, pulling on the handle again.

"OH MY HECK!" I'm freaking out because not only am I getting soaked, Mimi is locked in the car. It reminds me of the blonde who locked herself in the car and someone had to get a coat hanger to get her out. My daughter does not know how to unlock a car door without a remote control - nor can she roll down the windows without keys in the ignition. My husband pulls up and sees me standing outside of my car, treading water at this point and shouting at Mimi directions for unlocking the car. He had to stop his car and turn it off and bring the keys over to unlock the door. Yep, that's modern technology for you. Our next family meeting will be how to unlock the car door from the inside without a remote control.

Happy Easter!

I dragged out an old photo of Mimi from Easter in 2006. She looks so innocently sweet. She has Brady in almost every photo we take of her, including our family Christmas portrait year before last. We had a very nice Easter at my step-family's house and had our traditional homemade Italian food - raviolis, gnocchis, Italian pizza (which is more like a quiche kind of thing) and lots of goodies. The littlies went on an Easter Egg hunt. It was nice to spend the day with family.

I had a headache most of the day and I laid in my bed with an icepack on my neck to try to relieve it (along with Excedrin, Klonapin and Jared massaging me) and my sweet little girl read a Junie B. Jones book to me while I had my eyes closed. It was the "Dumb Bunny" book. We both laughed at the funny parts. If you have never read any Junie B. Jones books, I highly recommend them. I read them when I substitued a first grade class and had to stop reading to laugh. They take about 20 minutes to read a whole book.

I don't know if I've mentioned I work full-time as a secretary and I'm now doing classes three nights a week going into graphic design. So far I'm enjoying it - lots to learn and gradually dusting the cobwebs out of my head. I haven't gotten to the fun stuff yet - just all the technical stuff explaining the broad range of career paths in multimedia.

I hope you had a very nice Easter!

Hoppin' Down the Bunny Trail

"I'm gonna write the Easter Bunny a note and ask him if he'll put our names on our eggs and hide them so we can find them," Mimi says excitedly today.

"Wait a minute. I thought you didn't believe in the Easter Bunny," I remind her.

"No. That was just Santa Claus. Because I found my notes in your cabinet and those painted pieces of wood in Dad's closet," she reminds me. "Plus we don't have a chimney."

I remember blatantly a few weeks ago she announced she knew I was the Easter Bunny. And I said, "Yep." So is she having "Believer's Remorse"? Is she retracting her disbelief? Has she already had too much candy from the Easter Egg hunt on Saturday to remember she is a disbeliever now? Maybe I should get it in writing next time. "I, Mimi, no longer believe in Santa Claus, Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. Therefore, you (the parents, er, uh, Mom) are no longer obliged to provide gifts, chocolate and money from this day forward."

Remember? I was taking this day off. I was going to leave rabbit turds (chocolate covered raisins) instead. Well, she did make me a birthday card. She did make me a "get well" card when I was sick. She also made me a watercolor picture of a rainbow and then got mad at me and got a marker and wrote "To Daddy" on it. So maybe she's the only one who deserves a little treat from the Bunny.

It reminds me of a time I bribed my kids to be good while we ran an errand and I would take them to get an ice-cream afterward. Well, they were little ..... brats..... and I told them that just because they were brats didn't mean I couldn't have a treat. So I bought myself an ice-cream cone and ate it right in front of them. I'm giggling to myself as I think about it because I was so fuming mad with them I'm surprised the ice-cream didn't melt from the steam coming out of my ears. So I pretended to enjoy that ice-cream cone as I ate my frustrations. Bahaha!

So, any suggestions? Remember, I have the 17 and 19 year olds that didn't acknowledge my birthday. I'm trying to be strong. Maybe there should be a movie "The Year Without the Easter Bunny." Maybe I could tell them Mother's Day will be a predetermination for Christmas. I feel so mean! I could always just put Jared in charge. I have this small fear he would make me look bad, you know, that he might spend more than usual and have this feast of holiday favorites. But then I think about how he takes over cooking dinners sometimes and the kids complain that it's not like mom's. Wishful thinking.

Who's the Betterest?

My Mimi, I had her trained when she was younger to announce that I was 29 years old. She would also answer a prompt of, "Tell them why we call you Mimi." Then she would say on cue, "'Cause it's me-me-me-me-me!" One day, she just quit saying it.

She was about three years old and she came up to me while eating a snack. I asked, "Where did you get that?"

"From the pantry," she answered in her cute little voice that sounded like she'd been sucking on helium.

"Did you ask if you could have that?" I asked.

She looks at her treat and says, "I asked myself and I said I could have some."

Clever answer, but I then ask, "Are you the momma?"

She tilts her head to the side in deep thought and says, "I'm the betterest momma."

Yep. I am in trouble. This is basically her personality in a nutshell. She can be my most loving child and my most hateful child at the same time. She has a competitive streak in her that she was born with. I think she gets that from her dad, because I don't have the energy or the self-esteem to compete with people.

One day when she was in preschool, four years old, I picked up the other little girl in our car pool and they were both dressed up beautifully for picture day. As soon as Bailey sat down in the mini-van Mimi asks, "Who do you think looks the prettiest?"

"I think you both look very pretty," I say, playing safe.

"But who's the prettiest?" she demands.

"You both are very pretty."

"But I'm your daughter, aren't you supposed to think I'm the prettiest?" pressing for her answer. I wouldn't give in. Sometimes I have to say, "It doesn't matter who is the prettiest, both of you are pretty" or "it doesn't matter who wins the game, as long as you had fun." She still asks questions like, "If you had to chose one daughter, who would it be, me or Ali." I then say, "I don't have to make that choice." "You love Ali more," she fishes or, "You think I'm dumb." I guess the good thing is I always know what she is thinking, no beatin' around the bush with her.

Yes They're Real and They're Fabulous!

We've had a bit of tragedy in my neighborhood and I don't know how faithful I'll be on my blog for this week. Some friends of ours 25 year old daughter took her own life Friday night and we're left in a somber mood. I'm reposting one of my favorites that I originally posted in Sept. '08.

Some people actually pay to have them! Not me! I like the more natural look. You can spot the fake ones from a mile away! People admire them whether they're real or fake as long as you show them off.


Both of my daughter's want some just like mine. My eight year old and 15 year old are already trying to grow them. I tell them to hold off until they're a little older and told my eight year old, Mimi, they look ridiculous on little girls. The kids at school are going to think she's a little different and what will her teacher think with her sporting them around?!


I guess Ali is old enough and they do come in handy at her age. Boys usually think they're attractive and even the girls like them. And can you believe even girls her age are getting fake ones? A lot of them are jealous when they see how pretty they are, but no matter how hard they try they can't grow any if their life depended on it. I still don't think they look very nice when they are fake and can't believe what some people will pay! And also how it's hard to find a certified professional or they may not look even.


I thought I would put a picture of them on my blog, just to prove to people they can look good natural, without modification. Ali didn't want hers posted all over the Internet, but Mimi and I are proud of ours au naturale!:

Hamster Heaven

This is a post from almost two years ago. I just thought you would enjoy it at this time of year.

Mimi, age 7, had this cute little dwarf hamster that she named "Chocolate Chip"that she absolutely loved. She was constantly holding it, loving it and would hold it in her hand and bounce it about eight inches in the air and catch it. I told her not to bounce her hamster like that and she said, "But I'm getting really good at catching!" Mimi loved Chocolate Chip so much I thought she was going to love her to death because she never put her down. She decided to give Choc Chip a bath in the sink without telling us about it until after the fact.

I was running errands one day and came home when Ali (14) announced that Mimi's hamster died. I knew her little heart would be broken. I decided to peek out the back door to make sure she was alright. She seemed to be doing just fine because my backyard was full of kids. The neighbor boy, age 6, was jumping on our trampoline with something in his cupped hand. I asked what he had when he produced the dead hamster. I tried not to freak out (but I did) and I asked Mimi, "Why didn't you and Daddy bury her?" She answered, "We did, but Tait wanted to see her."

I dug a hole a little deeper in the same spot in the yard and we buried her again. Her friend's mom came to pick up her daughter about a half an hour later and we couldn't find the two girls anywhere. I called every friend's I thought she would be at and couldn't find her. So we stood in the backyard and thought they would appear soon. We were right. They soon came running around the corner. Mimi had her hands behind her back looking guilty. I asked what she had behind her back and she said, "Nothing."

"You didn't dig up your hamster again, did you?" I asked. She pulled her hands out from behind her back and yes.......there was the hamster! I said, "Gross, Mimi! Why did you dig her up?" She said, "I wanted to visit her," as she rubbed the hamster corpse against her cheek. I had to control my gag reflex.

I buried the hamster again and told Mimi she need to let Chocolate Chip's spirit rest so she can go to Hamster Heaven.

The next day we went to church and afterwards, Mimi announced, "I'm going to change into my play clothes and go outside and play for a minute." She's not a good liar, so I wondered if the hamster would be exhumed again. I told my husband her plan and he said, "Do I have to bury her somewhere else in the yard?" I thought, that might be a little freaky if Mimi tried to dig her up again and it was gone. How do you explain that? So we got the video camera out and watched out of our bedroom window as she dug it up.



The next day we bought her another hamster, named Wiggles. "Rest in Peace" Chocolate Chip.

The Santa Spy

"Mom, do you believe in Santa?" asks Mimi.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?" I say.

"Well, I'll get to that point in a minute," she says, sounding much more mature than she is. "Do you remember the present I gave Santa?"

"No. What was it?"

"It was a painted piece of wood. Remember, it said 'Merry Christmas' and 'Joy to the World' on it?" You might remember this from "Redneck & Green Season."

"No. What about it?"

"Well, the other day I asked Dad for some batteries and I looked in the place in your closet that the batteries are always kept and I found the present I gave Santa."

"So do you think Dad is Santa Claus?" Don't even go there after my letter to the Easter Bunny.

"Also, why do you have a letter that I wrote to Santa in your dresser?" she asks accusingly.

"What do your friends think, do they believe in Santa?" I say, slightly diverting her question. I don't think we ever had an official talk with the older two, I think it was just understood after awhile. The parent handbook never said you had to have this conversation - just the "birds and bees" one.

"Well, most of them believe in Santa - except Clara. And Santa's handwriting looks a lot like your handwriting," she says. I'm thinking, "Yes! Proof that mom is the only Santa." After thinking about that one, if Jared were to write the name tags out on the gifts, the kids would think Santa delivered the gifts to the wrong house. I typed all his papers for school, so I can say that. I can hear them saying, "Who's this present for? It says 'SCILHT'" Yep. Must belong to some kid from Scandinavia.

"So what do you believe?" I ask.

She says frustratingly, "I don't know what I believe anymore." So, I wasn't ready to have that talk anymore than I was ready to explain the tampon commercials. I think we had a subject change, which wouldn't surprise me because that's how Mimi's brain works.

Do you remember when you "knew" about Santa? I think in 5th grade I was still wondering. Then a friend said, "You don't still believe in Santa, do you? HA! It's your parents, Doofus!" My response, "Of course I knew that, duh." Then swallowed hard and tried to hold the tears back. I'm not a confrontational kind of person so I never approached my parents about this subject, or the birds and the bees. Gosh, so much info in 5th grade - and you get periods, too?! Which ironically we referred to as Santa being here.

We were always told if we quit believing in Santa, he'll quit coming. So even if we knew it was our parents we didn't admit it. It always baffled me how he would get into our house when we didn't have a chimney. That really bothered me. The answer was Santa has a magic key and that's how he gets in all houses. Still disturbing that someone has access to your house like that. I might have to get Seth or Ali to give her the talk, I don't think it would be as traumatic. Then they can add, "Don't tell them you know" and it will be a silent understanding.

Red (neck) and Green Season

I went downstairs to the basement to find some ribbon for my newly purchased Christmas presents when I saw a sight so shocking - so horrible I didn't know what to even do. I was on the phone with my BFF, Karen, when I described the gruesome scene:

Little pieces of wood and sheetrock left the telltale signs. Watercolors, paintbrushes, glitter, glue, ribbon, pom poms. I know the basement looks like a construction zone anyway, because there is some construction going on. I had visions of - no, not sugarplums - vacuums, sponges, weeping and wailing. Karen laughed a little too hard but I understood. It was her turn to laugh, afterall. It's usually her kids playing with the liquid pump soap in the sink, or the toothpaste or the toilet paper. My youngest is a year older than her oldest, so I thought I was done with all the disasterous stuff.

I decided to play a little trick on Mimi (age 9). I went upstairs and said (while Karen was on the phone), "Can you believe what Seth (age 19) has done? He has been making a mess with paint and sheetrock and wood downstairs. He even made a heart out of sheetrock and glitter and pom poms."

"Seth has?!" Jared asks.

"Yes, Seth. He left a big mess downstairs - it's everywhere!" I answered.

Mimi 'fesses up, "It's MINE!"

"It's your mess?" I'm trying to stay straight-faced and Karen is not helping.

Jared said, "I was wondering, Seth - doing work?"

Mimi's eyes start watering, "It's mine! You probably saw your Christmas present!"

Okay, now I feel kinda bad. Amazing how she glued two pieces of rectangle sheet rock together to make a heart, covered in glitter and pom poms!

I went to lunch with my friend Princess Na'alie (that's Natalie with a Cockney accent) a couple weeks ago and told her all about the wallet my Mimi made for our neighbor who used to be her teacher at church. It was made of silver duct tape. I told Na'alie I was trying to talk Mimi out of giving it to her, but never mentioned the words "she's going to think we're rednecks." Mimi thought it was so beautiful, being silver with hearts drawn on it and had her name "Lori" written on it. I got a sweet message on Facebook saying she loved the wallet and loved Mimi. It was truly a gift from Mimi's little heart. Na'alie wants one now.

I'm adding some pictures in case you want to place your orders.

We are back ordered on duct tape wallets at this time.