Lyrics Abuse--also known as "variation on a theme by Heisler and Goldrich"

I just woke up from an accidental nap. Now, I am generally in favor of all the napping I can get. It is rare for me to turn one away. But this one snuck right up on me. I think it was some combination of the following ambient noises:

children's audiobook read by Tim Curry

lego bricks clicking and unclicking

pokemon cards being sifted (Little C can't shuffle)

and the Beta Test Phase for the reinvention of the drumstick

Also contributing were this flu I can't quite shake, and the 50,000+ word novel I just finished for NaNoWriMo. (Like, just verified the win before I went upstairs to see what my sick little kids were doing.)

The strange thing is I might not have really been asleep at all. It is hard to tell. Everything sounded exactly the same when I decided to roll off the bed as it did when I decided to roll onto the bed. (Decided might be a little strong. It was more of a gravitational cooperation.) And the clocks upstairs are utterly unreliable, owing to frequent "adjustments" by small fingers so using them to actually gauge time is ill-advised. But the sun has definitely migrated. And no matter how hard they try, those little fingers have not managed to adjust that one yet. I think. So I have come to the conclusion that I did, in fact, have a nap.

In my confusion, I still managed to recognize the intense knocking of caffeine withdrawal inside my skull. So I went down to the local coffee shop to self-medicate. I was blissfully minding my own thoughts while waiting for my beverage. (Blissfully might be a little strong. It was more of a scattered drifting. Bordering on Zen.) And the nice barrista (barristo?) asked me if I wanted an extra shot of espresso as he happened to have made one extra. (Hear that? Choirs of Angels my friends.)

And I sang, "Yes my name is Alpha...and thank you for the extra.....shot-of-espresso-because-boy-I-really-need-it-today-is-it-that-obvious?-I-tried-to-smooth-the-pillow-creases-off-my-face-on-my-way-over-but-I-guess-it-didn't-work-so-welllllllllll."

Ok, so I only played "Taylor The Latte Boy" internally. But, boy, do I wish he'd softly answered "Hey." Because we all know that quadruple latte means that...well...that I might be able to stay awake long enough to make my cygnets some lunch.

stew-pendous!

I say, if your children are going to be watching television anyway, make them watch the Food Network. (Shhh. I am going to pretend I have sponsors for a minute. Humor me.) I want to be clear that Food Network does not sponsor this blog.

In fact, your children should start watching it while still in the womb. And here is why I say this absurd thing. Because some day your child may just surprise you with a made-up soup like this:

Miss M's Magnificent (mushroom-free!) Vegetarian Coconut and Green Curry Soup

1 big carrot, sliced the way you like it

1 clove garlic, chopped tiny

2 chopped scallions which are NOT the same as leeks but are the same as green onions

1 sweet red pepper cut the way you like it

olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan

cook those things a little to soften them up

1 can of coconut milk (the full-fat creamy kind, please)

4 cups of stock (use vegetable if your vegetarian is paying attention, but chicken is better)

1 tablespoon prepared green curry paste

1 teaspoon prepared ginger paste (it comes in a tube, but fresh would be better)

1/2 of a key lime, squeezed and dropped in the pot for extra flavor

salt and pepper to taste

warm that all up a bit and serve over rice

I am not exaggerating when I say that it is VERY, VERY yummy and simple to make. Moose and I added a little left over turkey to our bowls which was also very good. And mushrooms would be incredible in here, but you'll need to change the name. If you trust me even just a little bit and like coconut curry at all, you should try this soup.

Say it ain't so!

Oh. I just had one of those facebook moments. The one where you see someone you used to know in someone else's friend list. You know, that girl who was a few years older than you. She was kind of punk and super cute. She was funny and boys liked her but were intimidated by her at the same time. And so she was never really appreciated until she went to college. Anyway, she was super cool. She liked edgy music, spiked her short hair and went dancing in short skirts and boots.

And now?

Rocker/Smart Chick has a profile picture of herself in, gasp, a hideous Christmas sweater.

Is it wrong of me to hope that the sweater was for some kind of theme party? Like the kind where you have to wear the worst seasonal sweater you ever got as a gift and when the lights go out everyone strips them off and when the music stops you have to grab any sweater and put it on and then the lights come back on and you have to wear the new hideous sweater for the rest of the night.

I am not so sure I can handle the truth.

Happy Thanksgiving!

We had to cancel our Thanksgiving plans. We will seriously miss being with family and friends this year. But the desire to contain this nasty flu thing Moose and I are suffering won out in the end. And we are 2/3 of the way through pulling together a very nice meal.

Tawny Port, Mango Stilton, Aged Cheddar, and roasted Squash Seeds for an opener!

Bacon Wrapped Turkey Breast

Squash Soup

Mashed Potatoes

Spinach Salad

AND

3 pies!!

I know, it seems like overkill on the desert end, but yesterday was Pie Day with the neighbor ladies. We usually spend the morning together making enough pies to feed the neighborhood. But my seasonal-variety flu got in the way. I am as bummed about missing Pie Day this year as I am about missing our extended family. But the ladies brought us over our three pies anyway.

And as much as we wish we were with the tribe in Illinois (AARGH! We are missing our nephew and his wife that came home from Virginia!), it is kind of hard to be upset spending a quiet, stress-free, travel-free day at home with my little family.

Did I mention there were three pies involved? I am tempted to slice into them in my Grandmother's tradition. She would cut as many slices as there were people at the table. (It was kind of nice when my sister went to college and my portion went from 1/6 to 1/5.)

Hey, Stranger...

My kids got home from school today and spent a few minutes in the yard playing, discussing the passage of time. They were planning ahead for the snow yet to fall and the springtime after that. When, suddenly, Miss M yelled some code word followed by, "This is not a drill!"

One boy went into the playhouse to retrieve two pair of binoculars and a notebook with pencil. Then they scurried about, spying on some car delivering the local newspaper. They were whispering things and scurrying between bushes. And by the time the car left our cul-du-sac, they had a full report. I will share it with you.

Car: gas guzzling with duck tape

Driver: Man, older, not clean, clothes dirty, might smell

Activity: dropping papers in bags by mailboxes, not sure

Location: made a left turn out of court

Spotted by Miss M

Reporting by Miss M, Big C, Little C

On Tuesday

Consider this your only warning. We have some mad spying skills up the hill, and we are not afraid to use them.

So this Mom Walks into an Insult...

Our school is short on meeting space. So when I go in to run a Literature Group with first graders, we are at the mercy of everyone else's schedule. Today: LUCKY!! We had space in the gym. Extra lucky, because there was a pile of mats I could park on while the kids sit on the floor. The inequity was not missed by any of the kids.

D-Man: Hey! Why are you on the mat?

Ladybug: I call the corner!

Mama: Hold on! You all get the floor...so you can...spread out, yah, have lots of space. In fact we have the WHOLE gym today.

Reptile: (Raising his hand politely) Then why are you on the mat if we have all this space?

Mama: Well, I have old lady bones. And sitting on the ground is very uncomfortable for me.

Valentine: You have old lady arms too. Can I see that jiggly part?

Tangle: Wiggle your arms like this!

Kangaroo: (shy, quiet tittering)

Mama: et tu, Kangaroo?

It All Started With an Innocent Trip to The Drug Store

Much like The Great Chastity Belt Discussion of '09, tonight's topic was The Production and Sale of Illegal Drugs. When the kid's questions outnumbered my competent answers I tried to end it with, "Hey! Guys, not only do I not know how the raw materials are processed into their illegally usable form, I have neither used them nor would I even know where to find any!" And I took a deep breath. Thinking it was done. But Big C is always ready with one more...

"Jeez, Mom! If you could just figure out how to GET the drugs, the cops could just tail you and nab the dealers!" (And then there was some sort of noise from the boy which indicated his mother is a simpleton.)

(No one else will warn you about these pack-hunting attack sessions. But I will. If you have clever children, don't let them get you in a corner. EVER.)

Oxymoron in Action

(Also known as irony.)

Two things struck me as ironic this morning.

The second was the classic guy getting out of his car at the community center, sucking down the last of his cigarette and tossing his fast food wrappers on the ground before he goes in to work out. You know, for his health. But it's better than nothing, right?

The first episode, I will tell you in advance, ended well. By well I mean that the child involved was the only one crying and no one was hurt. I have to tell you that first because it involves a pre-schooler, a busy dad, and screeching breaks. It is set in the school parking lot. And walking into a story like that can make many people a little edgy from the get-go. I debated ruining the ending by eliminating the element of suspense. But since most of the people I know that read this are parents (or children), I thought it wise to forgo style for ease of mind. You're welcome.

There is a preschool program housed in our school. This morning I was walking back to my car as a dad was bringing his three year old to school via the approved cross-walk. He appeared hurried while his child was dawdling. And to teach his son a lesson he let go of his hand (see why I warned you?) and walked more quickly. This cross-walk divides the parking half of the lot from the drop-off lanes on one side and the thruway to the teachers lot on the other. (Don't even bother trying to figure that out. It is the WORST designed parking lot I have ever come across. And that's no hyperbole.) So the dad yells back over his shoulder for his son to hurry up. Now, I realize I have not introduced you to the protagonist yet. But I thought since I already gave away the ending I should hold something else back. But here you go: a bespectacled little guy who was trying very hard to ONLY step on the yellow parts and ALWAYS land four steps on each section. I know. I wanted to put him in my pocket. He is my kind of kid. So the dad again yells over his shoulder to hurry up so he doesn't get hit by a car. You know that scene in The Lion King Part One and a Half where Timon is on guard duty and he is doing his best Scurry, Sniff, Flinch!? Well, our google-eyed hero did a Sniff, Flinch, Scurry! And turned, in his parentally-induced panic, and scurried away from one car and right at the bumper of a moving car. (Again--you're welcome.) Brakes squealed. Mothers squealed. And his father grabbed him and yelled at the driver. Which is the ironic part. Because if he hadn't yelled at his child in the first place that kid would never have left the crosswalk. Trust me. It's an OCD thing.

Moose Lessons

Moose is not perfect. Lord, don't get me started on his imperfections. You don't have the time and I don't have the bandwidth. But there are days when he gets it so right.

Like the evening a couple of weeks ago when I was trying to get some writing done and he closed the door to the room and told me he would get the kids going on homework and put them to bed so I could work. Then he brought me tea. And Oreos. (Which made Lorraine swoon.)

And today, when he called me before leaving work. He said he had a plan. It involved the kids going to bed early, opening a bottle of port, some Stilton, and watching Glee and Project Runway. And yes, I asked him if maybe he was a little gay. Which is totally cool. No judging. But then he told me the rest of his plans and, let me assure you, that he most certainly is not!

I am a sucker!

I am. Let me just start with that.

How do school principals and teachers spot mamas like me? How do they know if I start in with one project it will turn into 3? And why can't I use my PTSD excuse outside of the PTSA meetings? (I really do start to panic at the thought of attending those meetings!) I must give off some funky mother hen pheromone. Maybe they smell it in my unwashed hair. I need to bathe more often. Maybe even daily.

But if I did I never would have met Zac today. Zac who should be in 6th grade but is not. Zac who is sweet and kind and funny and vulnerable and unfocused and distracted and sweet. It took us a good hour and a half to complete one assignment and correct two others. It should have taken 1/3 of that time, potty breaks and broken pencils included. And that principal KNEW I would fall for this kid and that is why she hooked us up. Because taking care of my own three plus the 23 first graders in my three literature groups wasn't enough. Now I have a soft spot for Zac too. The dear, little thing.

And Devin. How did his teacher know to send him into the hallway right where I was working? It is a conspiracy and that damn principal is behind it, that's how. I was not even scheduled to work with him but how do I NOT help when he is sitting there goofing off with his book closed? But the good news is Devin got his work done. I had to bribe him with stories about why the time is off on my watch and where I went on vacation and what I did there. But I learned that, properly motivated, that kid can divide words into syllables like a champ! And he learned he could do it too.

And those TEACHERS!! They are like vultures! All chatty and sweet and appreciative. Thanking me every time they turn the corner. Waiting until I am feeling so happy that Zac is getting it and he is smiling and focused and Devin was off getting more catch-up work to do with me...and then they pounce. I was carrion in cashmere. And now the third grade teachers could use some help with some writing remediation (which means "please come and work with them") for a few (lord help them but it had better only be a few!) students.

And I will do it. Because sometimes just having a Mama checking on you helps. Even if it is not your Mama. Sometimes laughing while you work and getting some individual attention helps. And sometimes, most of the time, this Mama is actually happy to spread her wings a little wider and make a little room for a few more.

That's what HE said...

While people watching during Scottsdale Fashion Week I was channeling a little Michael Kors: "short, tight and shiny says slutty, sluty, slutty."

A Fly on The Windshield

If you were in my minivan tonight driving home from the Mexican restaurant you would have heard this:

Little C: (terribly excited) Hey! There is that giant letter M that Ronald McDonald threw out of his pocket and they stuck it on that pole!! Right there!

Big C: Um, Little C, he didn't really do that, you know.

Little C: Yes he did! It was in his pocket and he threw it with magic.

Big C: No, that is just the Mythology of McDonald's. Ronald is an advertisement.

(Then nothing but silence until we got home. Crushing imagination and spirits: all in a day's work for Literal Boy.)

Musical Haiku

Five dollar plastic

whistle. To me you sound like

three dollar plastic.

(Yawwwnn...)

Hey, Little C, I am thrilled you are making good use of your newly found morning time. Reading is always a good choice. I agree that the time change this weekend is a good thing. And I see that you are saddened that the rest of the household has chosen to use that time to sleep a bit longer. Please know, should you continue to bombard me with trivial questions while I am trying to pry open my eye to stick my contacts in, you will continue to be met with the same result:

disappointment.

I don't know if the Nymphs of the Wind work for Zephyr. I would assume so. So let's go with yes. And if you fail to achieve a perfect score on your SAT's because I possibly gave you the wrong answer to this question, my apologies, sweetie.

Mommy's Helper

A young girl returns from the mailbox on a crisp (it was bitter and cold) Fall day. She brings her mother the mail.

Mama: Anything good in the mail?

Girl: A few bills and a lying catalog.

Mama: Which catalog is lying?

Girl: This bra catalog.

Mama: What is it lying about?

Girl: It says that Push-Ups instantly add two cup sizes.

ADDENDUM: You do understand that when she thinks of push-ups she thinks of gym class, right?