Inside Natalie's Closet

It’s no secret that I love to buy my children clothes. So every once in awhile I’ll post an entry with them sporting their latest outfit. It’ll mainly be my daughter since my son usually asks me to take pictures of his butt.

Today Natalie is sporting an outfit from Gymboree's Poppy Love line.


“Natalie! Say ‘please don’t cancel the show Raising Hope because we find it to be hilarious!’



“Okay. Never mind. What would you do if Brobee came to the house?”



Then she pointed out the Crazy Twilight Lady who was walking her dog. Thank goodness she didn’t hound us on the latest ‘RPatz’ gossip. I think she frightens Natalie who is probably all, “Why is this grown adult going on about werewolves and vampires?”



Natalie gave me some smiles because yes, I ran into the side of the house a few times.











I think I’m in trouble. Natalie’s preschool teacher told me that all the boys want to play with her in school and Natalie tells me things like, “Micah made me laugh,” and “DJ is so funny.”

Natalie started rambling about Halloween. She said she wanted to be a witch.



So I reminded her that no, she’s going to be a Peacock Princess and she’s all, “Say what?”



“I can be a witch too?”



“Uh...we’ll see.” (Not really. She’s going to be a Peacock Princess.)

This was Natalie’s reaction to news that there is going to be a Justin Beiber doll. It was mine too, actually.



“Run into the house one more time?”

Oh fine.

Conversations with a Cat?

So picture this.

You settle down to have a nice conversation with your husband, who is in Korea.



He appears to be listening.

But then he does this:



“Tom!” I said, annoyed. “Stop it!”

It’s really difficult to have a conversation with someone who has access to all sorts of buttons to jazz up his web cam.

So he turns back into himself and I start saying how Natalie wouldn’t listen to me and how Tommy’s version of cleaning his room was shoving everything into one corner of it.

“And then Glen keeps eating the tree,” I continued with a sigh.

Tom frowned which confirmed that yes, he was following along with what I was saying. Sometimes I’m not always sure.

“Who is Glen?” he wondered and he seemed....jealous?

Um. Seriously? Did he think Glen was a human being? Even though I mentioned that he was eating the tree? I would certainly hope that a person wouldn’t eat my tree. I mean, you do have those people who like, eat nature, but still.

“Glen. The antelope,” I sighed which lead me to believe that he wasn’t even listening whenever I ranted about Glen.

“Oh.” Tom relaxed.

“So anyhow, Natalie barely listens to me and—TOM!”

I yelled because Tom did this:



So I said something that made no sense. “I’m going to take that away from you!” Yeah, how exactly would that work? And plus, if I took it away how would we talk? But I wish I could block those web cam features.

Tom took off the cat and I got the privilege of watching him eat his lunch. Sushi. Yuck. I was impressed with how well he used the chopsticks though.

“My throat was a little sore the other day, I’m getting over a cold,” I said.

“Ahh,” Tom said, but not sympathetically. “I watched the new Robin Hood movie. It was pretty good.”

Sometimes I feel like he’s not LISTENING to me. The only time that I feel that he is, I’m usually naked.

“That’s great but did you hear me? Sore throat? Ouch?”

Tom put his chopsticks on his head like they were his antennae. “That stinks.”

“Tom,” I groaned. “If you don’t pay attention, I’m going to take a picture of you doing that and post it on my blog.”

Tom took the chopsticks down.

“You really ought to be tested for ADD,” I said. “Oh, your Fine Scale Modeler magazine came in, do you want me to mail it?”

Up came the antennae again.

So I kept my promise of posting the photo on my blog.



Enjoy.

Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!

I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. I think I’m going to do this every Tuesday now. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.

Hey, It's Okay....


To wish I had a shaman friend like Elizabeth Gilbert did in Eat, Pray, Love.


To have sort of liked Lady Gaga’s meat dress. It made me crave bacon.


To be annoyed that there are people on the forum I write at who insist on putting HUGE photos of their kids as their signature. Look, if I can see all the pores in little Suzy’s face, it’s too big. Re-size, it’s easy to do.


To be irritated that Natalie wakes up at three in the morning just to say hi. She goes back to sleep, thankfully, but still. Three in the morning is not an appropriate time to exchange pleasantries.


To have firmly decided that you could never share your husband like they did on that show Sister Wives. I’m an only child so I’m not a big fan of sharing anyway.


To love the show Little House on the Prairie even if it is ridiculously cheesy. Come on, we’ve all had a Nelly Oleson in our lives. I usually always find a Nelly when a group of women are gathered.


To wonder why people bring their dogs everywhere with them. It startles me when I’m walking in a parking lot and a dog barks at me from the car.


To be on the search for the Pumpkin Pie Pop Tarts that I keep hearing about. I MUST try one!


To be a little baffled when people talk about their three-year-olds having homework. Um?


To love peacoats. I have a peacoat. Natalie has a peacoat. I want to get Tommy a peacoat even though he says they’re “not cool.” Tom, it should be noted, would never wear a peacoat.

What Would Supernanny Do?

“When we get in the store, you are not to run around like a maniac. Do you understand?” I asked Natalie.

“I won’t,” Tommy chimed in.

“I won’t,” Natalie repeated.

I parked the car in front of Once Upon a Child. I had a plastic bin of stuff to sell so I grabbed that and once again told Natalie to behave.

It’s harder to go out with Tom gone. When Tom is around, she’s on her best behavior because she hates upsetting her father. But with me? Well. She doesn’t take me quite as seriously.

I pulled open the front door.

“TOYS!” Natalie shouted and ran for them. Her vow to behave was gone in an instant and I watched in horror as she raced past customers and hopped on a rocking horse.

“Is Natalie being good?” Tommy wondered. Tommy, it should be noted, was standing beside me dutifully.

“No,” I said distractedly as I set the plastic bin on the counter.

“We’ll be done going through this in twenty minutes,” the store worker said.

We could wait for twenty minutes. I hurried over to Natalie and reminded her that we don’t run around a store.

“I’m not,” Natalie said and then scurried to the book section.

Was I not speaking English?

What part of DON’T RUN did she not comprehend?

Okay. Don’t panic. WWSD? (What would Supernanny do?)

She’d probably tell me to remove Natalie from the store. But…then I’d have to drive all the way back and gas wasn’t exactly cheap.

She’d say I was making excuses, that if I didn’t want Natalie behaving like this then I’d have to put a stop to it RIGHT AWAY and remove her from the store.

Well, I wasn’t leaving the store. But I would tell Natalie that her behavior was unacceptable.

“Natalie,” I said in my best Scary Mom and weirdly British-like-Supernanny voice. “What did I just say? We don’t run around a store, it’s rude.”

Natalie had the nerve to run to the clothes and I had the urge to use inappropriate language.

I was all set to march over to her when Tommy stuck something in front of my face.

“I found a Transformer. A big Optimus Prime. Can I get it?” Tommy asked. “I’m being good.”

“Fine, fine,” I said and went over and picked Natalie up. She did not like this and screamed into my ear and called me mean.

“If anyone is being mean, it’s you. You LIED to me and said you were going to be good,” I answered as she tugged on my hair.

Another mother frowned in my direction as her son, who looked to be around Natalie’s age, waited calmly beside her. I wanted to say, “Well I’m sorry, we can’t all have angels. Just you wait when he goes through a Goth stage and wants to wear long dark skirts to school. It happens. I went to high school with a guy like that.”

“PUT ME DOWN!” Natalie screeched. “PUT ME DOWN!”

“We’re done going through your stuff,” a store worker said. She could probably see that I was close to losing it.

Natalie managed to slide down my body and then planted herself in the middle of the store, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m MAD!” Natalie informed me. “I’m MAD at you,” she added to make sure I was clear.

“Is Natalie being good?” Tommy asked again.

“Tommy! No! Can you not see her?” I snapped and then I felt bad. I mean, Tommy was the one being good.

I went up to the counter to get my money for the stuff I brought in.

“I’m MAD!” Natalie yelled.

“You just wait till I tell your father about this,” I threatened.

The worker tilted her head sympathetically. “Rough day? Well, at least you can pass her off to Daddy.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Daddy isn’t here.”

The worker looked horrified. She probably figured that he had left us or something and she might have even thought, “And who can blame the guy, that little girl has a set of lungs.”

“I mean,” I corrected, “he’s in Korea. Until next year. So I’m alone. And I’m sorry about my daughter. She’s....well, maybe I should have read more parenting books, and I did try but they bored me to tears so I decided to wing it which is probably a mistake seeing as she’s acted like a crazy person the entire time we’ve been here.”

Yup, I had a case of verbal diarrhea.

And now I think the store worker was debating calling security.

“Um, well,” the store worker stuttered. “Well.” She punched a few buttons on the cash register and practically threw my money at me. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I pocketed the money and then grabbed Natalie and threw her over my shoulder like she was a bag of sand.

“STILL MAD!” Natalie bellowed. “STILL VERY VERY MAD!”

It was a struggle to get her into the car. When I managed to get her strapped in I felt like I had just finished a long workout.

When we got home Tom was on Skype so I told him how she behaved. He lectured her, of course, but then she went, “I love my Daddy,” and he was all, “Awww, Daddy loves you too,” and I was left going, “The crap kind of lecture was that?”

Oh man. It’s going to be a long year, isn’t it?

The Headache List

The world can get crazy. Especially with Tom being gone. Granted, I am grateful for all that I have obviously. But I can’t help but get annoyed at times. The following things have been giving me a headache lately:




The stuff that Tommy likes to build around the house. I love his imagination but it gets aggravating when his ‘creations’ take over my living room and he gets upset if I ask if I can move one. “I made that!” he’ll say incredulously. And heaven help my eardrums if Natalie dares to touch one. (This creation was a runway for his airplanes, by the way.)




How commercials and labels such as these always talk about the mothers doing the cleaning and cooking. Hello, it’s 2010. Maybe men would take the initiative to cook and clean more if society wasn’t shoving ‘Mom this’ and ‘Mom that’ down their throats. Maybe MOM wants a break and would love if DAD offered to whip something up for the latest bake sale.




The fact that Tommy always puts his underwear on backwards. He’s beyond the cartoon-ish underwear and wanted boxers. So fine, I got him some, and he doesn’t get that the flap goes in front. This is probably due to the fact that he doesn’t use the flap, that he actually pulls down his underwear when he goes and I’m not about to further explain it to him. That’s an awkward conversation that Tom can have with him on Skype.




How food companies feel the need to explain to me exactly what my kid is eating when I buy their product. They have to do this because of all those uppity moms (probably the same ones who whined that Katy Perry’s outfit was inappropriate when she sang with Elmo on Sesame Street ) out there who just need to learn to relax and enjoy motherhood and not fret about every little thing. So long as my kid likes it, I don’t need to know the protein content, thanks.




Glen’s poop. You remember Glen, the annoying antelope who likes to eat my tree and gets further enjoyment from defecating on my driveway. I have to clean that, by the way. If I don’t, I get a citation from base housing for having animal feces in my yard. MY YARD IS NOT YOUR PERSONAL TOILET, GLEN.

You've Been Owned

My son Tommy loves to swim.

In fact, I didn’t even have to put him in the beginning swimmers class. He skipped right to the middle one where the kids were supposed to be able to swim halfway across the pool on their own. He’s just always been a natural in the water, which is fantastic, because you have to understand that because Tommy has Aspergers, he’s awkward while doing other sports.

He tried the t-ball thing and was upset when he couldn’t catch the ball as well as the other kids. And try as he might, it would take him a few times to hit the ball off the stand.

He tried soccer and would up on his butt more times than he cares to remember.

He had an unfortunate incident with a tennis ball.

So when I saw how free he was in the water, my heart lifted and I thought, “This is something he can do.”

Oh sure, he still has awkward moments. For instance, he can’t dive into the pool as easily as the other kids do. No, he winds up doing a belly flop half the time. And when the teacher throws an object in the middle of the pool for the kids to retrieve, Tommy is able to swim to it but he can’t force his body down to the bottom so he’s able to grab it. This frustrates him greatly. I sometimes hear him say to the teacher, “Just let me keep trying, please!”

What he can do is swim and I’ve watched him glide past older kids, who have asked him a few times, “How do you go so fast?” Tommy usually says, “I don’t know. I just do.”

Usually he hasn’t gloated over the fact that he touches the wall first.

Until this week.

I took him to lessons on Monday and he did the backstroke which is his best stroke. He beat the kids and then I heard him go, “You’ve been owned.”

Um.

I thought I heard him wrong. Certainly my sweet eight-year-old hadn’t just told other kids that they had been owned.

And where did he hear such a thing? I have never once told him that he’s been owned before.

He did the breaststroke and touched the wall first again. “Owned!” he bellowed and the mother of the beaten boys in Tommy’s class shot me a look like, “You need to teach your kid some manners.”

Then it came time for the butterfly, which is Tommy’s least favorite stroke and he’s still awkward at it but he’s getting better. He edged out the oldest boy and then I heard him say, “Owned again!”

“Tommy!” I yelled and shook my head. He looked confused and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “What’s the deal?”

“It’s not polite to say,” I said.

Tommy frowned. “Say what?”

Oh for….

“Owned. Don’t say that,” I lectured. I could feel the eyes of all the parents in the room. And Tommy’s swim teacher just looked amused over the whole thing. One of the older kids went, “It’s cool, everyone says it,” and I went lamely, “Yes, but it’s not polite.”

Tommy didn’t say the word for the rest of the lesson. He almost slipped once and I could hear his tiny voice go, “Own—I mean, nevermind.” When he came over, dripping wet, he said, “Why can’t I say that? Kids say it all the time in school.”

I handed him his towel. “It’s not having good manners. If you hit the wall first, you say nothing. Would you like being told you were owned?”

Tommy cocked his head to the side. “It wouldn’t bug me.”

“Well, it would bug me,” I said. I didn’t add, “And I’d probably call the winner a smug asshole if he told me that.”

“Fine. I won’t say it anymore,” Tommy agreed. “But it’s not a bad word. Fuck is a bad word, but not owned.”

A mother walked past with her kid and nearly fell into the pool from shock.

“Tommy,” I hissed. “Please.”

Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh. Sorry. I did say a bad word then. But owned isn’t a bad word,” he muttered.

“Just…don’t ever say it again when you win. Deal?” I asked, gathering up our things.

“Deal.”

The Noisy Bag

Look, I’m trying really hard to be Greener.

So I bought this since the package said it was compostable:




Does the sound of the bag bother anyone else? It’s seriously like nails on a chalkboard for me.

I’m tempted to pour the chips in a plastic bag which sort of defeats the purpose of buying them in the first place.

I find I slowly stick my hand in the bag, careful not to touch the sides and then I s.l.o.w.l.y pull my hand back out lest I bump against it and cause it to *shudder* CRINKLE.

Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!

I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. I think I’m going to do this every Tuesday now. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.

Hey, It's Okay....


To be a little creeped out by all this talk about Bed Bug infestation.


To be annoyed with how long it took to announce the winner of Big Brother.


To be rooting for the old side of Survivor. (For those who don’t know, the teams are split young vs old.)


To still argue with your husband even though he’s all the way in Korea. (I can’t even remember what he said but it pushed my button and I think I told him f you. I promptly apologized but honestly, he needs to watch what he says to a woman that he’s left behind with two crazy children.)


To be ready to read the new Shopaholic book by Sophie Kinsella which comes out today.


To enjoy watching Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare in Love and be a little bitter that FlashForward, a series he was in, was cancelled.


To not be surprised that Lindsay Lohan failed her drug test. Throw her in jail! To heck with the overcrowding. Maybe the other inmates will snap her into shape. (Literally)


To have listed more stuff on eBay here. (Tom should be proud of me. He’s always like, “You never get rid of stuff, blah blah blah...”)


To have really liked the new show The Event. I miss Lost, maybe this’ll help feel the void.



To prefer this dude,



who played Thomas Culpepper on The Tudors

to the dude who most girls fawn over who played Charles Brandon.



He is attractive, no doubt, but I prefer Thomas Culpepper (who in real life is Canadian and for some reason I have it in my head that all Canadians have been to Prince Edward Island where one of my favorite movies Anne of Green Gables was filmed....and plus, he looks good in orange, which is a hard thing to do.)

Ghost Adventures

I was okay, I swear it.

Watching that Ghost Adventures show on the top Scariest Moments during the day made it okay.

I knew I couldn’t handle watching such a program at night. When I watch things like that at night I start to panic over every little noise. So I was smart and watched it during the day. And really, I was fine when it was over.

I was even fine when it got dark because by then I had watched several happier shows (Gilmore Girls, and the Survivor episode I had recorded...)

I didn’t even think about ghosts as I climbed into bed. I easily shut off the light, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

But then in the dead of the night I felt it.

I had been snoozing on my stomach and yes, I sleep with only underwear on so my back was naked. And it was on my back where I felt the scratch.

On the ghost show, some evil ghosts were scratching the members of the ghost team.

I immediately thought of this, sat up and screamed, “SCRATCHING!”

Which is a weird thing to shout, I admit it, but when you have been sleeping peacefully for a few hours the mind doesn’t work quite right at first.

I heard a thump on the floor and did what every other self respecting twenty-eight year old would do: I dove under the covers.

Holy crap, a ghost was coming to get me. A ghost had just scratched me. Maybe the evil ghost from the show knew I was watching the program and didn’t like it and had flown to Wyoming TO TEACH ME A LESSON!

Oh God.

I stayed under the covers for a few minutes until I had to get fresh air. I peeked out and forced myself to look around.

Nothing.

But then Max the cat jumped on the bed which caused me to scream and hide under the covers again until I computed that it was just the cat.

Wait.

Just the cat….

Then it all came together.

It was the cat that had jumped up on my back and because of his claws, he probably accidentally scraped me.

And that thump? Well, I probably had inadvertently pushed the cat on the ground. Sorry, Max.

But good news!

There wasn’t an evil ghost out to get me.

I hadn’t been scratched! Well, I sort of had, but it wasn’t anything serious.

Everything was okay!

Everything was…

“Max! Get off my pillow!” I hadn’t realized that the cat had settled down on it until I went to get comfortable.

I scooped him off and put him on Tom’s pillow. He did not look pleased with me.

I’m thinking I might be scratched in the future.

Only this time, it won’t be an accident.

The Story of Glen

“Glen! Step away from the tree! I see you standing there, Glen, and I’m not kidding, I will learn how to make antelope jerky, so help me!”

I was screaming outside my front door at an antelope, who I’ve named Glen. Glen, you see, keeps eating the tree that some commander on this base strangely decided to plant in my yard. (He didn’t do it personally, he just gave the order. I’d have been amused to see him do it personally though.) I mean, hello, commander? You do realize that this base is filled with wandering antelope who like to eat plants?

One of those antelope is Glen. Now, okay, I’m not entirely sure if it’s the same antelope that munches on the tree. They sort of all look the same. Brown fur, white asses. But I’m pretty certain it’s the same one. Why? Because unlike most antelope, when I approach, Glen slowly walks away like, “Ugh, this witch again.” Other antelope run off as though Kathy Griffin were dancing above your head or something. But Glen....well, Glen is an asshole, no question about it.

(I know any members of PETA reading this are probably horrified. I apologize. Animals are lovely creatures, really, but not when they eat stuff that I’m working hard to grow in my yard.)

Want to see my depressing tree?



And yes, I even surrounded it with fence to keep Glen out. But he pushes his ugly mouth through the holes in the fence and chows down.

That is what he was doing when I shouted at him.

“Glen! Go eat some grass. Do you hear me? EAT THE GRASS NOT THE TREE!” I was in my driveway now. One of my neighbor’s friends was getting out of her car and did a double take when she saw a barefoot woman clad in sweats and an oversized t-shirt threatening the local wildlife. Most of my neighbors get my quirkiness (they’ve witnessed me running into the side of my house in order to get my daughter to laugh many times and have heard me bellow, “Please put on your pants!” to my kids and sometimes even my husband too) but this woman clearly didn’t know what to think of me. She blinked in my direction and looked from Glen to me and back to Glen and then hurried into her friend’s house.

This is Glen by the way:





Doesn’t he just LOOK sneaky? And notice how he’s calmly wandering around. He’s probably telling his antelope friends, “There’s a great tree in this crazy woman’s yard. Let’s go eat it and piss her off!”

Glen finally walked away but not before shooting me an evil look and taking a crap in my yard.

Thanks a lot, Glen.

Inside Natalie's Closet: Halloween Costume!

It’s no secret that I love buying my children clothes. So occasionally I’ll do an entry where I show pictures of their latest outfit.

Today I’m showing Natalie’s Halloween costume.



She’s a Peacock Princess!



The costume is from Gymboree.



Aren’t the wings fabulous?



I asked Natalie what she thought of Jennifer Lopez becoming a judge on American Idol. She’s all, “Huh?”



Then I asked what she thought of chicken nuggets and she got happy again. The girl lives off of chicken nuggets. I’m surprised she hasn’t turned into a giant piece of chicken.





She did some poses.



And then was all, “Can I turn on the hose?”

I was all, “Sure, if you want me to spin you around my head by your ankles shouting curse words.”



Natalie was like, “Um?”

Then she continued, “You can’t do dat to me.”

I said, “I actually can and will. So don’t get me wet. I’m wearing my good Mudd jeans.”

Thankfully she made the right choice and backed away from the hose.

She actually started to run around the yard going, “I’m a peacock princess.” Only she left out the “pea” part so you can imagine what the neighbors must have thought.

Anyway.



She sort of blends in with my car.

Sweet.

Looking At The World Differently

“What’s wrong with me?” Tommy asked from the backseat of the car.

I chewed my lower lip. We had just finished up Tommy’s IEP meeting at his school and it’s never easy to hear that your kid has trouble learning. That he will most likely struggle his entire life.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” I assured my eight-year-old son who I noticed had issues from a young age. For one, he wasn’t talking like all the other two-year-olds. Then I’d notice that he’d do this thing where he walked back and forth over and over again, watching something from the corner of his eye (I would later discover that this was known as stemming.) Loud noises would freak him out and I’d get constant phone calls from his preschool teacher (“Tommy melted down when we had a fire alarm drill. I couldn’t calm him down for an hour.”) When other children would cry, Tommy would run over and squeeze them, as if trying to stop them from making a loud noise.

Now that he’s in third grade, he’s improved on a lot of those things. He doesn’t really stem and he’s developed coping mechanisms to deal with sudden noises. But still. There are a lot of things that he still has issues with.

“You remember what you have,” I prodded Tommy.

He sighed. “Aspergers which is a form of Autism. And I hate it.”

I stuck the keys in the ignition. “What do you hate about it?”

From the rearview mirror I watched Tommy pick at his nail. “I don’t want to be different.”

He’s at the age where he’s noticing that people are different from he is. He asks why everyone doesn’t go to the Resource Room. He wonders why he gets pulled from class to go over Social Situations. He doesn’t comprehend why he can’t play sports as easily as the other boys in PE. (That part could be because his mother is a klutz.)

I turned around in my seat and faced Tommy. He didn’t meet my eye. He struggles with eye contact which is one reason why he does Social Situations with the school counselor.

“You do know it’s okay to be different, right? If you were like everyone else, the world would be a boring place, don’t you think?” I said. I squeezed his knee and he allowed this. I’m grateful for the fact that he allows me to touch him. Some Autistic children shy away from touch.

“I know,” Tommy grumbled. He’s heard the speech many times before. “But it’s just not….fun.” He blinked his eyes rapidly and took deep breaths. He does this in order to prevent himself from crying. Tommy has always been sensitive and he’s beginning to learn that eight-year-old boys don’t get mercy from other children when they shed tears.

“You see the world differently from everyone else. And some day, Tommy, you’ll see the good in that,” I promised.

Tommy finally met my eye. “I guess so.”

I started the car as a bunch of thoughts danced around in my head. Would kids accept him? What would he be like as an adult? Would he ever get married? What if….and oh God, this is the selfish thought that somehow finds its way in my mind and I hate myself for even thinking it….what if he has to live with me forever? Would my own marriage be able to survive that? Divorce rates are high when an Autistic kid is in the mix.

As I drove home, the envelope containing all of Tommy’s IEP paperwork was in the corner of my eye. When I got pregnant, I had no idea that the baby I carried inside of me would need so much paperwork. It’s almost a foreign concept for me to have my other kid start school without any paperwork. The other day I almost asked when her IEP meeting would be.

When we got home and headed for the house, Tommy said, “Mom? Maybe looking at the world differently isn’t so bad.”

I swallowed and felt a lump in my throat. “It’s really not, Tommy. I’m glad you get that.”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Tommy continued and for a second he was just like any typical third grader.

I smiled. “Of course we can have ice cream for dessert.”

Hey, It's Okay Tuesday!

I got this idea from Glamour magazine. They have a section called Hey, It’s Okay and will list a bunch of things to be okay about. I think I’m going to do this every Tuesday now. You're welcome to join in and do something like this on your diary. Doesn't have to be on a Tuesday either.

Hey, It's Okay....


To cringe when grown adults speak in a baby voice to each other.


To not understand the rules of golf (I want to learn. Someday. I thought the rule was just to get the ball in the hole (teehee enter dirty joke here) but apparently it’s much more than that.)


To wonder why people don’t wear their seatbelts.


To say to your kids when they are whining about having such a tough life, “At least you haven’t been stuck in a mine for over a month like those men in Chile!”


To hope that nothing else breaks in the house (my computer tried to over the weekend.)


To hate how everything seems to be 3D these days. I don’t need everything up in my face, thanks.


To be excited for Survivor to start again this week.


To also be excited for premiere week the following week! Hello Grey’s Anatomy, The Middle, Modern Family, Cougar Town... (And tonight Parenthood starts!)


To wonder why parents allow their preschoolers to sit up front in the car with them. Isn’t that, I don’t know, dangerous?


To be excited for the new Nicholas Sparks book to come out today (I pre-ordered on Amazon.com!)

Things That Make Me Go Huh?

The way Tyler from Teen Mom dresses. Does anyone else want to knock off those sideways hats that he wears?




Why Max was attacking my slippers…at first…then I saw there was something in them and was to hurl said slipper out my front door. Thankfully I realized it was Tommy’s plastic grasshopper and not a real one.




The fact that Natalie always tries to take her water with her to preschool. Sweets, they’ll offer you milk, I promise.




Why this dude always parks his car right in the entry way of the Cul De Sac that he doesn’t even live at. He lives across the street and has a perfectly good driveway.




How to put together Transformers. Tom used to fix them but he obviously can’t do that now. I’m tempted to put an ad in the paper that reads: “Wanted: person who can transform Transformer toys level 3 and above.” Or maybe I’ll just send all the Transformers to Tom in Korea and he can transform them and send them back.

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I'm guest posting over at The Blue Zoo today. She's part of an awesome Blog Hop, so check it out!

Maybe I'm Getting Old...

....but doesn’t this look kinda painful?







I found this in the latest issue of Cosmo and did a double take. Is the girl...upside down? How would that be fun? I’d be all, “Please don’t drop me on my head, thanks.”

And to continue on with the weirdness, Cosmo is telling me that these are in style:



I wouldn’t know whether to wear it or pet it.

Cosmo also informs me that to cheer myself up, I should listen to Justin Bieber.



No thank you, Cosmo.

I’m 28, not 14.

And I prefer to be upright when I’m doing the nasty and wear boots that don't resemble my pet.

Goofy Pictures

Sure it’s fun to do a nice family photo.




But....

It’s even more exciting when you do this:



I know. My kids are all, “The eff? These are the adults who are meant to care for me?”

So of course we had to teach them how to make funny faces.



Tommy is still all, ?????

I love my crazy family.

What Was It?

What in the world?

What was that?

Was there a....MAN downstairs?

Oh my God, there was a man downstairs and it was eleven at night. Who would be awake to help me? What should I do? Run downstairs with the bat that I keep by my bed raised over my head while giving a Zena type call? Throw my slipper at his head?

Okay. I could do this. I was a capable adult.

I took a deep breath and moved to the staircase. I took one step and paused. I could still hear him.

It sounded like he was....

...singing?

Was this some sort of weird prank?

Maybe it was a new craze? Maybe it was the thing to break into people’s homes, sing, and then leave?

Wait.

The singing stopped. Now what? I craned my neck to see if I heard the burglar moving around. But it was silent.

Did he leave? Maybe I hadn’t heard it at all? I do have an overactive imagination. I once thought the curtain was a ghost.

“EEEEE!” I went. Not because the assailant attacked me, but because the cat brushed against my leg.

Max! He’d protect me. Sure he was just a cat but he was pretty fat. I bet if he managed to sit on the burglar’s face he could suffocate him. Only...how could I get the cat on the burglar’s face? Surely the burglar would throw him off? Unless Max dug his claws into his neck and somehow rendered him unconscious! Yes! He could—

Oops. I needed to pay attention.

“Max,” I whispered. “Is there a robber in our house?”

Max responded by plopping on my feet. He lifted up one leg and started to give himself a bath.

“Now is not the time to bathe,” I hissed.

I mean, really. We might be getting robbed and he decides he wants to have clean fur?

I was on my own. With the bat above my head, I charged down the stairs and came face to face with...

No one?

I flipped on the light, expecting to see someone crouched behind the couch. But no. I was alone.

And then my eyes rested on it.



And then it all computed.

There was no burglar after all. It was the singing flower pot! When it needs water, it starts to sing.

Mom got it for me because I forget to water my plants.

I poured water into the pot so it didn’t startle me again.

“No good comes from plants,” I muttered.

If they weren’t dying on me, they were figuring out some way to freak me out.

It’s official: plants hate me.