Archive for November, 2009


Weird Things the Kids Say…

November 23rd, 2009 at 10:23 pm » Comments (5)

1. Ethan-9yr, upon inspection of his goldfish crackers: “Are these the organic cheddar variety?”

“uh, NO. those are multigrain.”

Then I had to google pepperidge farm to see if he was making it up, and if there really are organic cheddar goldfish. There isn’t.

2. Ethan-9yr had a conversation last night with my mom, made up with phrases he thought were French. I cannot and will not even attempt to re-create it here. It made no sense then. It won’t here either. Notable, though, since he got frustrated with her for not understanding the meaning of his phrases, even though he admitted he’d made them all up. I left the table and left them to it.

And LaLa — I know. You’re right. i used to do the same thing, and my favorite was trying to use the word ‘souffle’ in every conversation. Which is hard for a little Texas girl to pull off. But I did it anyway.

3. Caden-5yr: “NO ONE else’s mom in my class has a monster truck.” (I wasn’t there for this one. Don’t know if he was embarrassed of me or not for this one, but knowing him… probably.)

4. Seth-4yr: “Prolly.”  My mother REALLY wants to tell him about the extra syllable, making this word ‘probably,’ but feels she cannot do so until i stop saying it that way, too. I’m 34. Good luck. But I only say it that way when i’m really tired. And that extra syllable is SO much more effort.

5. Caden-5yr: “And NO ONE else’s mother kickboxes.”

(Sigh.)

6. Seth-4yr, to me: “Why you not pitty anymore?”  Yes. ‘Pitty’ does mean ‘pretty.’  He thinks I’m only pitty when my hair is up, and I had taken it out of its (really unpretty) ponytail only to be met with him appearing at the bathroom door, asking why i’m no longer pitty.  Maybe I should teach the child the question, “What’s with the ugly hair?”  Nah.

7. Seth-4yr on how to solve the dilemma of making a snowball that will not fall apart: “Just take a meatball while it is still cold and FO that!”  {Fo = throw}

This may make no sense at all to you, but it’s a subtle commentary on how meatballs in this house are always the frozen, from-a-bag variety. So, need a snowball that won’t fall apart? Get a frozen meatball from the freezer. Seth-4yr is brilliant like that.

And I don’t like squishing meat between my fingers if at all possible. This mighta been the last time. The phrase ‘sausage balls’ still makes me gag. And laugh. But mainly gag.

8. Ethan-9yr, on his view of my writing success, or lack thereof (which cracks me up all on its own): “How big is your name on your book?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Ethan-9yr: “If you’re a REALLY good writer, your name is bigger than the title.”

I collapse laughing. Mike runs and gets a copy and shows it to him. Because that’s just what we do here.

So then Ethan-9yr looks at it, shrugs, and says, “Well. Not bad. It’s bigger than Roland Smith’s name on HIS books, and he’s my favorite author.”
I’m so glad I’m not trying to impress these kids. From the frozen meatballs, to the non French speaking adult version of myself, and the doing ALL the things the other mothers don’t, to the uglified hair… well. At least my name is bigger than Roland Smith’s.  (but I’m not in any rush to  tell Ethan-9yr Roland Smith is a MUCH more successful writer.)

At least my hair is up. Seth-4yr, right now I am pitty.


Muskrats: Awesome Distraction

November 15th, 2009 at 9:27 pm » Comments (0)

Stopping the writing frenzy otherwise known as NaNoWriMo (the ‘write 50,000 words of a novel in November’ project) in order to take a quick break here.  I’m almost at 30,000 words and the last two nights I’ve fallen asleep typing only to read the last couple pages the next day and notice that I have no memory of them. They were written while I was asleep.  And not bad, either!

This is brilliant, of course.  I should be doing this ALL night while i sleep and the multitasking skill that speaks of is AWESOME.

I was completely bothered by something the other day. COMPLETELY. I had an appointment I was sure was at 11. It was at 10. But I missed it and then they called, and I didn’t answer because i do NOT answer phones, not even cell phones really. And then? Then they called  my mother. Who called me. And i DO answer phones really, if it’s my mother calling, because I was raised better than to not do that.  And then I had to call back and GROVEL because I missed that appointment and that is SO flaky and I so don’t ever want to be that person. I mean, ick. Flake, flake, flake.

They were nice enough to still see me at 11.

I was on my way. Feeling like a flaky flake flake moron of the worst sort. These people don’t know me well. They don’t know yet that I won’t be doing this sort of thing to them ALL THE TIME, and really what good would it be to say so? None. So I’m ALL worked up over it, because  they probably can’t stand me and I can get crazy/guilty/full of self loathing over tiny things quite easily and then? Then  a song comes on the radio.

It instantly snaps me out of it.

Not because it’s a great song.

Because it’s SUCH a horrid, disturbing song that i cannot possibly be focused on how to more effectively hate myself while still listening to this.

So I turn it up. WAY up.

‘Muskrat Love,’ y’all.  Captain and Tenille.

That song will snap your perspective way into another galaxy JUST. LIKE. THAT.

The drawback is that you will instead be listening to Muskrat Love. By Captain and Tenille. So use judiciously, and highly infrequently.

I suppose I always thought that was a bad analogy for a song. But NO. It’s literal. It’s about a romance between actual rodents, y’all. REALLY. I  must have thought that because unless you really need to distract yourself from something, any normal person would change the station.

Immediately.

Before realizing it’s a literal song about rodents and their love.

Elaborate descriptions of their courtship are sung. Electronic rodent-y noises are RAMPANT. Those muskrats shimmy, and wiggle, and do things with their whiskers that are supposed to be sexy to other muskrats. (I think. That was my impression upon hearing.) They have names. I don’t want to remember them. (It’s been a couple days and I’m starting to block it out and I”m good with that so don’t remind me.)

I looked up muskrats. (Don’t google image search ‘muskrat love.’  Really, don’t go there. That was a bad/naive call on my part, and save yourselves from those images.)  If you want to see a muskrat you can click HERE though. They’re BIG and ugly. Wikipedia says they are medium sized, but if that’s what they say a medium sized rodent looks like, I hope to never see a ‘large.’

If you can’t resist, here are the lyrics. But you probably should. Unless you’re having a really bad day.

And then the song ended. My mouth was hanging open just a bit. I was completely shocked that this song had ever been recorded. I arrived at my appointment and everything was FINE. If they thought I was a flaky moron they were nice enough  to not act like it at the time.

so i didn’t mention muskrats, or they might have found that much harder to do.


To Launch a Rescue Attempt…

November 4th, 2009 at 7:55 pm » Comments (5)

I’m doing it! After all these years of watching and cheering on Geekwif, I’m finally doing NaNoWriMo with her. That’s when you try to write a novel of 50000 words all in the month of November. So it’s a month of messy ponytails,  late nights, and even more takeout than usual.

Blogging will be sparse. As will everything else except writing, pretty much.

(If you want to join us – or if you already are doing NaNo, look me up as HolyMama please, and we can be buddies.)

This morning, mom and I were unloading washer, loading dryer, discussing who knows what. From WITHIN the near empty washer comes a voice that clearly says, “To launch a rescue attempt would be illogical.”

As bizarre as that is, we didn’t scream. We didn’t even disagree. There’s no rescuing from the endless cycle of laundry in this house. It would be illogical. But the voice of the washer said as much…?

Turns out it was a little Happy Meal toy from last year, a tiny Spock character with a large head and an ability to withstand the power and wetness of the washer with his voice still intact.  Ethan-9yr has drawn on his face with a pencil, and yet that didn’t wash off. But he’s pretty clear on his status, and it’s enviable.  HE needs no rescue.

Well good for him.