With fall coming soon, I am mentally preparing for the usual barrage of decisions that need to be made and money that needs to be spent on birthdays and Christmas. Thanks to Shannon's keen observation not only during tv shows but during commercials, she has made my job a little easier. Though I'm not sure which is harder; buying a gift for a child that knows exactly what they want and has to own only that IMPOSSIBLE to find toy, or having to guess what my child might want and hope I don't completely ruin their special day because they got a cheaper generic version of Barbie's mansion instead of the obscenely priced name brand version.

Shannon saw an ad for something called "Zhu Zhu Pets" (referred to in America as Go Go Pets) and has simultaneously jumped on the must-have-toy-this-year crazy bandwagon as well as sealed her doom.

Watch this commercial and tell me if I'm crazy.

On the one hand, they are cute and appealing in a I-just-wanna-carry-em-around-in-my-pocket kind of way. With the cute noises and fun little accessories. But is it just me or are they creepy too? I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's just the Japanese feel to the ad that throws me off but something about these innocent little guys makes me uncomfortable.

I am obliged to watch these ads repeatedly because Shannon squeals with excitement when they come on and demands that I also see them so that I don't mistakenly purchase a "Fur real" pet instead. (which are SO last year)

Even though I like the concept of not having to care for a real animal, something about these things gives me the heebie jeebies. In the back of my mind I am picturing Chuckie dolls that come to life and terrorize the town. Or the killer bunny from Monty Python.

We're having enough problems with nightmares lately. I don't want to have to console my child in the middle of the night because they are petrified the harmless soft little battery-powered toy is going to come to life and bite their ears off.

At least she doesn't want a pony.

I've never seen "The Three Faces of Eve" but I understand it's about a woman with 3 distinct multiple personalities.


I think I could count 256 different moods/"faces" projected from my oldest.


And I'm still counting.


Generally, I consider myself to be relatively confident when it comes to child-rearing. The kids know who's boss and usually I DO have the answers they need to hear.


Often when Shannon has a bad day, she talks about it with me. Usually it involves who is best friends with who today or how "nobody's respecting her" when her brother and sister don't let her boss them around. Or that "it's just not fair!" when she can't have what she wants that very second. Typical emotional 7 yr.old stuff.

At least I am able to draw on my own unfortunate childhood experiences and share my wisdom with her.

Right now, she listens to me. And if I'm careful not to drone on too long, I can avoid "lecturing" and losing her interest.

But someday I fear she will not come to me willingly nor will I have all the answers.

I fear this day is coming too soon.

Like probably 5 years. (or tomorrow)

Then what am I gonna do?

How can two babies, born and raised in houses close enough to use walkie talkies (pity we never did) be so completely different? Both come from loving families with siblings.

Both households share similar fundamental values. (and sometimes a cup of sugar too)

Both children are equally loved and cared for. And they played together a lot as well.

And yet, photographic evidence seems to paint a picture of one beautiful, polite, even cherubic child.

And the other...well let's just say if a stranger was given the choice... well which one would you pick up? The cute angelic baby on the left, or the cranky fussface (and probably stinky) one on the right?

Yep. This is proof that geography doesn't make a speck of difference in manners.

If we were identical twins, we could easily be told apart simply by who was sitting quietly and who was tearing into their cupcake ready to mash it whole into their mouth and ask for seconds before baby number one even gets the paper off.

Guess which baby I am. (hint: I slightly resemble Frankenstein. How appropriate.)

How is it that my daughter is singing the exact same words to the exact same tune I used to when I was a kid and was making a mad dash to the bathroom? Must be genetic.

"Gotta go gotta go gotta go right now...." sung to the tune of that (insert musical link to the song hours were spent trying to find)
(ok, couple minutes)

It's the same tune I bonk the brains out of Katie to when she's on my lap and we're pretending to be riding a horse. (when it's not to Bonanza. I'm talking about the other riding song.) It's also a song often played when viewing a scene portraying a lot of things getting done in a short amount of time. (maybe sped up too)

Da da dum Da da dum Da da dum dum dum....

Somebody help. Because I gotta go gotta go gotta go right now Upstaaaairs And get off my butt.

We introduced the kids to the (heavy on the music, light on the humility) band Metallica today.

I fear Daniel may have found himself a new hobby. He looked a bit like Lars (above) only he was banging away on a rubbermaid container with a rainstick and some other long-ish type toy.

As long as he doesn't go the Ozzy route...

Oh how do I love thee air conditioner? Let me count the ways...

Without this most ingenious invention, I am certain I would look (and behave) like this:

I'm such a spoiled (youngest) child that I had the audacity to turn on the oven today. That's right. I'm not afraid to say it. Because even though you poor condition-less souls liquefying in this torrid climate will come to kill me tomorrow for bragging about it, I made cinnamon rolls today. And every luscious bite is worth the cursing I will receive. (are you sick of my adjectives yet?)

We are so detached from the outside world right now, the kids got bored and made up a game in honor of the fiery weather. It's pretty much a: lets-put-on-all-our-winter-clothes-and-pretend-to-have-a-snowball-fight-in-our-living-room kind of a game.

It's 3000 degrees outside and my kids have their mittens and hats on. Again, I can't stress it enough. I need to meet the creator of this snappy contraption give that person some cinnamon rolls.

And my first-born child...

kidding

When we are children, we are always expected to complete certain activities that are "for our own good."

"Eat the crusts! They'll make your hair curly!" (or what I was certain to be true- "it'll give you chest hair")

or "Stay outside (in the apocolyptic typhoon) a little longer. It builds character."

The one I currently apply the most is "You made the mess, you clean it up."


When I was a kid, unlike many others who don't view it as a punishment, I took swimming lessons.


Of course it was for my own good. It builds character right? And confidence, right?

Nothing made me more sick to my stomach than the knowledge that on swimming days, I must endure the most humiliating (to me) and stressful experience I could imagine. Read reports in front of the class aloud? Cake compared to this torture. You mean you actually want me to stick my head under the water?

You're crazy.

Jump off the diving board into that deep vat of shark-infested death? Yeah right, sure you'll catch me.

Once I got so worked up I actually vomited. Fortunately, we were on the way back home because class had been canceled. (and I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I had eaten OJ, pickles and carrots for breakfast)
Who did these haughty teenage instructors think they were? So arrogant and caught up with flirting with each other. Or determined at whatever cost to the petrified child to impress the parents with a card full of fishy stamps on every requirement. (I only got fishies on the "blows bubbles" line. THAT I could do all day)
So what revenge did I enact on these nasty instructors?

I married one of 'em.

Not one of the ones from my childhood... just someone who was one. Geesh. What are you guys thinking??

I love the library. I love it because it's a free activity we can occupy the kids with for at least a half hour. Maybe that's not as long as I'd like but when the chasing and raised voices begin, I'm ready to check out. (in every sense of the word) (hardy harr harr)

But what I really like about the library is that it's an excuse for me to check out children's books for myself and no one is the wiser to my sad situation.

I'm terrible at history. I've always found it just D U L L. But often I'm reminded of my ignorance, (like all those social gatherings where people want to discuss the absurdity of the seven years war or something) and I wish I could contribute to the conversation. With the kids returning to school soon, (not soon enough) I have a new motivation to rejuvenate my knowledge of history. This way when asked, I can actually talk about the Boston Tea Party and explain why it wasn't a frilly gathering of women gossiping and drinking Darjeeling.

I found a book called "George vs. George The American Revolution as seen from Both Sides". I have now read this cover to cover (all 55 pages of ages 8-12 info) and am proud to say I know a bit of history I didn't know this morning. Thanks to the pretty pictures and simplified text, I get it. Why didn't I do this sooner? So what's the next major war? Too bad I didn't discover this in high school. It would have saved me a lot of headaches and c minuses. ( I know, I'm pretty pathetic)



This is Cocoa. He's ours but was inspired from the Cocoa at the library story time. He has his own song and dance. Funny how amongst several other children dancing and singing along, mine sit quietly with their hands in their laps, practically imperceptibly doing the hand motions. Yet at home, when I try to recreate story time, they not only don't sit still, they don't shut up either. How can I gain the respect the story time lady has?

I love to sit and read to the kids. It's the one activity that doesn't require much effort on my part and I can be proud that I'm doing something educational with my kids. You'd think with an art degree, I'd be more prone to creative endeavors. Not so much really. I never seem to have the energy or we don't have the right supplies. I'm not really a "game playing" kind of mom either. I do it once in a while, but then I get bored so quickly. Or frustrated because someone is picking a fight. Even story time is not without it's flaws. Always someone is jockeying for position on my lap, or can't see, or hasn't learned how to BE QUIET. And if I'm "in a mood", I become irritated when I find myself constantly stopping to explain the pictures when the text would explain it if they could just WAIT A MINUTE!



Despite my complaining, I consider story time at home to be one of the more pleasant activities I do with the kids. Except when I get elbowed in the gut as they adjust their position. That's not cool.