Tag Archives: Random

What you never want to hear your husband ask your 3 year old…

25 May

While our family was getting ready to go on a hike the other day I heard my husband in the other room call out to our 3 year old:

 Tristan, where did you put Dadda’s knife?

Has your mouth dropped yet?  Mine did.

Are you a Tigger or an Eeyore…or worse?

28 Apr

While driving in the car the other day with the kids, and yes, all four tires were working this time, the boys began a conversation about Winnie the Pooh.  We had heard somewhere that there is a character on Winnie the Pooh to represent every type of personality.  So, their conversation went something like this:

Kaiden:  I would be Piglet, because he’s so shy.

Tristan:  I’m Tigger…boing, boing, boing!

Kaiden: No, I’m not Piglet, I’m Roo.  Because he likes to play and go on adventures.

Tristan:  I’m Tigger…boing, boing, boing!

Kaiden:  Dadda’s Eeyore.

There was no need for explaining, we all agreed on that one.

Kaiden:  Who’s Mama?

Now of course I was expecting him to say Kanga.  You know, the mother of the group.  The one who tends to all the creatures in the Hundred Acre Wood.  The one who nurtures them, cares for them, supports them.  But when I went to open my mouth with my chosen character, my son beat me to it…

Kaiden:  Mama’s RABBIT.

RABBIT?  Are you kidding?  Now it doesn’t take an expert to realize that out of ALL the characters on Winnie the Pooh, RABBIT is the least lovable.  RABBIT is the yellow starburst of the Pooh world.

RABBIT is bossy.  RABBIT is controlling.  RABBIT is a NAG!  They don’t even make stuffed animals to represent RABBIT; a self loathing Donkey, yes.  But RABBIT…Never!

Me:  I don’t think I’m Rabbit.  I think I’m more like Kanga.

Maybe they simply forgot about Kanga.

Tristan:  No Mama…you’re RABBIT!

Even my 3 year old is in on it.

So what started out as an entertaining conversation has now turned into an internal evaluation of my own character.  I don’t want to be RABBIT.  Perhaps if I were more timid, I would be Piglet.  Or if I hid my intelligence I could pass for Pooh.  If I channeled my energy I could be Tigger, or if I were more of a know- it-all I would be Owl.

But instead…I’m RABBIT.

Isn't he LOVABLE?

Oh well, I guess I’m off to tend to my garden and yell at everyone.

Who would you be?

Damsel in Distress and Proud of it!

15 Apr

SAVE ME!!!

I’ve only ever lived in an age where women were strong, independent and powerful.  I had parents who embraced this value and instilled (or forced) it on me.  When other little girls were taking Ballet in their cute girlie Tutu’s, I was taking Karate in a variety of colorful belts.  When I turned 16 I learned how to drive a stick shift, change a tire and the oil, and (to my protest) pump my own gas.  I was taught girls can do anything boys can do.  After all, I was a woman.  And a woman can bring home the bacon, fry it in the pan, and give birth to a baby all at the same time without even breaking a nail. 

We are women, hear us ROAR!!!!

But…when my car blew a tire yesterday on the freeway and I barely made it safely to the next off ramp, did I roll up my sleeves, grab my bag of tools and fix it myself?  No, I called every Man in my life to come to my rescue.  I called my husband, my brother, the men at Les Schwab tires, and anyone with even the faintest amount of testosterone.  Did I call my fellow women to come help me lift up the car with our bare hands and rip off the old tire with one swift motion?  No…I did however call my sister in law for a ride, and emotional support.  And as I was making my various phone calls I found random men from who knows where rushing to my aid.  They wanted to help, they knew how to help, they needed to help!  Because despite all our advances in equality, to them I was a damsel in distress, and a primal instinct in every man I came across told them to rescue me; just as a primal instinct told me to be rescued. 

Could I have changed my tire on my own?  Probably…but I didn’t want to.  Could I have figured out how to jump start my battery with the assistance of another car?  (Because on top of the blown tire, my battery also died) Probably…but again, I didn’t want to.  Could I have pushed my car off the road to a safe place for jump starting?  Hell No!  Those things are heavy. 

So call me lazy, call me girlie, call me a sorry excuse for a strong woman living in a feminist society; but yesterday turned out perfectly in my eyes.  My Men got to fulfill that heroic desire to rescue their fair maiden from danger, and I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty.

So the moral of the story is…even a strong woman should be rescued every once in a while.      

The Most Important Day of the Year!!!

10 Mar

Happy 71st Birthday!

 

 

Happy 71st Birthday

Chuck Norris.

 

 

You put Round House Kicking red heads on the map.  Thanks to my Dad, you were an ever present force in my childhood with such classics as The Delta Force and Missing in Action.  And who can forget your Emmy award performance in Walker, Texas Ranger.  Yes, Chuck Norris today I will solute you with a flying front kick out my door as I rush to tell everyone the good news of the day you were born.

And to all of my lucky readers, in celebration of Mr. Norris’ special day, a few quotes:

1.     Luke wanted to know the ways of the force.  The force wanted to know the ways of Chuck Norris.

2.    Chuck Norris actually died 20 years ago.  Death just hasn’t built up the courage to tell him yet.

3.    Chuck Norris and Superman once fought each other on a bet.  The loser had to start wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants.

4.     When the Boogeyman goes to sleep at night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

And my favorite…

5.    Chuck Norris wasn’t born with feet…just boots.

Happy Chuck Norris Day everyone!!!

Worlds Longest ZEBRA found at Oregon Zoo!!!

2 Mar

Worlds Longest Zebra!

Every once in a while, things just line up perfectly, don’t they?

 

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”  Henry Davis Thoreau

Where the hell’s MY cookie?

24 Feb

 

 

I took February off from the blog, not on purpose, but as you all know life happens.

I went to the grocery store the other day with the boys.    Whoever thinks being a stay at home parent is easy, has obviously never gone grocery shopping with 2 kids.

After spending an hour at home making the list, planning the weekly meals and clipping the appropriate coupons I load the 2 kids in the car.  I prepare the diaper bag full of the essentials in case something goes down while we’re out, i.e.: sneeze, potty accident, or other.  We head up to the store.  I get both kids out, fling the diaper bag over my shoulder, pinch my reusable grocery bags under my arm (because I do care about the planet) and I ask Kaiden, my 8 year old to carry the shopping cart cover.

Inside the store, I place the cover over the infant seat and wrestle Tristan, my 3 year old into it.  I am regretting letting him wear his snow boots by now, as his feet won’t fit through the holes.  Once the basket is loaded up, we finally get into the actual store.  I am bombarded with pleas from Kaiden “Can I have that ball?  Oh, I need these markers!”  But I push on anyway.

I stop to get some lunchmeat at the deli.  A big mistake, for stopping the cart even for a moment prompts Tristan to try and climb out.  I wrestle with him as I order my “Ham please.”  Kaiden has found a balloon and is using it for a punching bag.  Tristan now wants to join in.  I grab the Ham and speed towards the produce section.  My kid’s favorite section as there is always fun things to grab and a ‘fun little toy that you pull and hundreds of bags unroll to the ground.’

We finally get to the Bakery.  Ah, the Bakery; the only place where the aroma itself has actual calories in it.

The boys are suddenly on their best behavior.  There is an actual sign after all that states:

“FREE COOKIE TO WELL BEHAVED CHILDREN.”

The lady comes with her hair net on and cookie bag out.  My boys use their “please” and “thank you’s” as if their life depended on it.  Once they have the actual cookie in hand they are quiet for the first time all day, well, except Tristan; he is humming.

I speed through as many isles as I can while they are preoccupied with their prize.  I don’t get far though as Kaiden has inhaled his cookie and is now pestering his brother for the rest of his.  I then play referee while I struggle to read my perfectly planned out list.  Did I mention I try to use a calculator?  Tristan falls for it and gives his brother the last of his cookie, not realizing by doing that there is no more cookie left for him.  Then the whining starts for another cookie.

I race through the last remaining isle; the dreaded cereal aisle.  My boys perk up as if it is Christmas at the sight of the colorful packages of “obesity in a box.”  I say “no” every few steps.  By this point Tristan is really trying to get out.  The only thing stopping him is the snow boots, which I am now thankful for.  Kaiden has found a bouncy ball he is recklessly bouncing through the isle, teasing his brother with.  I start to slow as I pace through the frozen section for I know what comes next.  The check out…

After placing my reusable bags up first, then the rest of the food with the help of Kaiden, Tristan finally manages to get free.  I place him in the back of the cart, where he somehow reaches the stacks of candy conveniently placed at the checkout.  I sift through my coupons with the line piling up behind me, I scan my store card (because they all have them now) and I struggle to make sure I am not buying any of the extra “stuff” my kids threw on when I wasn’t looking.  I load up my bags and head towards the car.

I get the kids in first.  Then if the weather will allow, I take my time loading the groceries and enjoying a moment of silence.  I get in and drive away from the store, knowing I will be back tomorrow because I’m sure I forgot something.  But as I drive away and wipe the sweat off my forehead, I can’t help but wonder…

Where the hell’s MY cookie?

 

Living your Buried Life…

29 Jan

 

 

Do you ever feel like your Life is living you?  Like the life you intended to live somehow got buried beneath the life you have?

 

 

It’s been a while since my last post because I have been so busy.  I have been racing around, doing and accomplishing and checking off the things life demands of me.  That’s when this post came into my head and I thought it should be shared.

When we are kids, we are told we can do anything we want to do.  And we believe it.  We can’t wait to grow up and go do all the things we’re told we can do.  And sometimes we hold on to that belief through High School and maybe even College, but somewhere in our twenties Life finds us.  It steers us off course with marriage and kids and jobs too good to pass up.  And before we know it there’s a mortgage and bills and pets and insurance and we find ourselves buried beneath Life.   Most of us go on living beneath the rubble, some completely unaware, and we find we don’t even recognize ourselves anymore.  We go into “sleep mode,” working and saving for that last little bit of life, when let’s face it, some of us are too unhealthy to enjoy anyway.

We put our dreams in a box marked ‘tomorrow’ and we bury the key.

I know I am not the only one who feels this way.  There is a famous literary poem by Matthew Arnold about it called “The Buried Life,” and then a show on MTV based off that poem also called “The Buried Life.” There have been countless songs about it.  Some of my favorites are “I’m in a hurry and don’t know why” by Alabama (hear it).  “Live like you were dying” by Tim McGraw (hear it).  And one of my favorite kids songs “Fast and Slow” by Laurie Berkner (hear it).  There are whole movies also about it, “Fight Club,” and “Office Space.”

Every once in a while, when Life finds us again and awakens us from our “sleep mode” we are reminded of what is truly important.  Unfortunately it usually takes a tragedy to do this.  Illness, Death, a Close Call, and for a brief time we live life differently.  We try new things, we go new places, we cherish the ones we love, and we dust off that old hobby of ours we once thought would make us riches.  We change and we find happiness.  But if we aren’t careful, Life’s cold hand will find us again and place us back into the race of living to work and saving life for tomorrow.

When I am feeling lost and regret about all the things I haven’t done yet I remember an article I read a while back about how to find the true value in your life.  It said to do this, first ask yourself 3 questions:

Question #1:

What would you do if you had a million dollars?

Go ahead and answer, I’ll wait.

Did you answer?

My answer is probably pretty standard to most.  I would buy a slightly bigger house.  Nothing enormous because who wants to clean that?  But one that definitely has an office.  Then I would set aside money for my kid’s college.  I would travel and see all the exotic places I’ve envisioned in my head.  And I would probably start a non-profit to help keep drunk drivers off the road.  Pretty typical right?

Question #2:

What would you do if you only had 2 years to live?

Go ahead, answer.

Ready?

Knowing my time is limited, I would do all the things I save for tomorrow.  I would write that book and I would publish it without fear of rejection because hey, I’m dying.  I would still travel.  I would spend money more easily, so long as I knew the people I was leaving behind were taken care of.  And I would write letters to my sons.  I would want to leave a piece of me with them for every birthday they would have without me, every celebration, and every milestone I would miss.  Suddenly the house from my millions doesn’t seem so important with only 2 years left to live.

And now the final question.  Are you ready to find out what you should be doing with your life?

Question #3:

What would you do today, if you knew you were going to die tomorrow?

Please, if you answer any of these, answer this one.

Ready?

I would spend it with my family.  I would take them to one of our favorite places like the beach or river and I would just play with them.  I would laugh and cry and be entirely in that moment.  I wouldn’t be worried about the bills or dinner or the next holiday coming up.  I would just breathe them in and tell them all that I love them.  And then at night I would still write those letters of things I wanted them to know until I physically couldn’t write anymore.

You see, that last day I wouldn’t spend it vacuuming.  I wouldn’t spend it traveling to some far off land and taking pictures of the 7 wonders of the world.  I wouldn’t spend it working for a job I hate or with people I don’t like.  I wouldn’t spend it surfing the web or tweeting to my peeps.  I would spend it doing the only thing that really matters.

I know we can’t just shut off our life and live that last day every day.  But maybe in understanding why we are running the race in the first place can we start to find ourselves.  We can start to live our buried lives because none of us really know when we are living our last day.

Boys RULE! (Literally)

18 Jan

 

 

“Snakes, snails and puppy dog tails

That’s what little boys are made of…”

 

 

 

Let’s add worms, frogs, mud, spiders, scabs, boogers, swords, fire, and any other dangerous or gross object out there.

Testosterone swirls through my house like a hormone induced tornado.  There’s wrestling and punching, sword fights and Nerf wars.  We have more bug catchers than I can count and they house a varied number of species on any given day.

My toilet seats never down and my hair is always up.

I’ve considered replacing our couch with a full sized trampoline since that’s what they use it for anyway. We camp, hike, skateboard, play soccer and anything else that will tire them out.  They know the Rocky Theme song by heart and can somehow always manage to fit the word “poop” into any sentence.

I don’t go anywhere without hand sanitizer and band aids, and I’ve considered just leaving their bike helmets on permanently.

Who knew a tissue could be turned into a weapon?

Yes, there is never a dull moment when raising boys, but my absolute favorite task is the laundry.  After spraying the grass stains, dirt stains, blood stains, and snot stains, I finally check the pockets.  I have rescued many things from the old wash cycle:  Marbles, flowers, leaves, sand, tiny toys, jewelry, I found a battery once, but I think the worst treasure I will forever remember pulling out of my son’s pocket would have to be…

A worm.

Can anyone relate?