My writer buddy, Pamela, is always posting funny things her third child says, and I think it must be a syndrome. She cracked me up today, and it reminded me it was time for another Kristen says ...
Sunday afternoons have turned into a kind of tradition for my middle child. Several of her friends are driving -- including Aaron, the boyfriend. Between the time we go out to eat after church and before youth group, their little cluster always wants to go to the park and hang out.
Each Sunday, it's the same conversation: Have you finished your homework? Have you done your chores? What's your specific plan and who's driving? And so on. We always try to emphasize that she ASK and not TELL. (Hmm, kind of sounds like a writerly problem, doesn't it? You know, show, don't tell.)
So, last Sunday, Emilie was peeking her head into the window of the car and the following conversation ensued:
Emilie: We're gonna go to the park, and ...
Me: We're gonna? Yeah?
Emilie: Asking. Implied.
Me: Just checking. Okay.
Kristen: Can I go? And can we fly our kite?
Emilie: (Sighhhhhh.) Maybe. (Walking away from car, out of hearing.)
Kristen: Without Aaron. Implied.
Me and Todd: (Cracking up.)
She must be missing Sister/Sister time.
Showing posts with label Kid3. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kid3. Show all posts
Monday, March 09, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Stories that go down in family history
It really has been a month since I popped in here, hasn't it? I'm trying to refocus and think through my blogging time.
BUT ... of course, I couldn't pass up a good opportunity for a Kristen says, right?
Tonight, at the Olive Garden. Kristen was puzzled when the waiter brought her a new drink before she'd even half finished the first one. I explained he was probably busy and thought he'd bring one while he had a minute rather than make her wait later. (Which is mostly unimportant and non-relative to the punchline, but gives you a little context and makes this longer and more worth your time for clicking, right?)
So, she couldn't find her straw when she was ready to move on to the new glass. I think it just took her a few seconds to remember it was in the old glass. We weren't really paying much attention to her mutterings until she found it in the old glass and said ...
"Oh, there it is. We'll be laughing about that in forty years."
HUH?
But, I bet we will now.
BUT ... of course, I couldn't pass up a good opportunity for a Kristen says, right?
Tonight, at the Olive Garden. Kristen was puzzled when the waiter brought her a new drink before she'd even half finished the first one. I explained he was probably busy and thought he'd bring one while he had a minute rather than make her wait later. (Which is mostly unimportant and non-relative to the punchline, but gives you a little context and makes this longer and more worth your time for clicking, right?)
So, she couldn't find her straw when she was ready to move on to the new glass. I think it just took her a few seconds to remember it was in the old glass. We weren't really paying much attention to her mutterings until she found it in the old glass and said ...
"Oh, there it is. We'll be laughing about that in forty years."
HUH?
But, I bet we will now.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A veritable goldmine opportunity
I'm mostly blogging over at my other blog these days, but still keeping it barely alive here. Mainly with random stuff like the much requested Kristen Says.
She's growing older, yet she still keeps us laughing.
Last night, for instance.
I'm sitting on the couch looking at Facebook, as usual. I'm viewing the page of a former neighbor we keep in touch with who's moving back here. By chance, the house next door is for sale. We're crossing our fingers she and her husband and their three little girls might actually get the timing right with the sale of their house and move in next door.
Kristen: Watcha lookin' at?
Me: Heather's page.
Kristen: Are they moving in next door?
Me: I have no idea. If the timing is right, wouldn't that be fun?
Kristen: Yeah, think of the babysitting opportunities.
(short pause while wheels turn in head)
Kristen: PLATINUM ...
Smart girl, her.
She's growing older, yet she still keeps us laughing.
Last night, for instance.
I'm sitting on the couch looking at Facebook, as usual. I'm viewing the page of a former neighbor we keep in touch with who's moving back here. By chance, the house next door is for sale. We're crossing our fingers she and her husband and their three little girls might actually get the timing right with the sale of their house and move in next door.
Kristen: Watcha lookin' at?
Me: Heather's page.
Kristen: Are they moving in next door?
Me: I have no idea. If the timing is right, wouldn't that be fun?
Kristen: Yeah, think of the babysitting opportunities.
(short pause while wheels turn in head)
Kristen: PLATINUM ...
Smart girl, her.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Kristen and Mom show their respective ages
While traveling to On the Border for Friday night dinner with Todd, Kristen, and my mom, we were talking about the vice presidential debates, and what's been said today among family, friends, and frenemies.
The space of nearly 60 years between two of the female species became apparent.
Mom: My beauty operator said the same thing.
Kristen: Your what? Your BEAUTY OPERATOR??????
The space of nearly 60 years between two of the female species became apparent.
Mom: My beauty operator said the same thing.
Kristen: Your what? Your BEAUTY OPERATOR??????
Friday, September 19, 2008
Kristen says ...
In a true demonstration of the pitfalls of the electronic age and its effect on families ...
As Todd, Julie, and Emilie sit with their laptops playing on FaceBook on a Friday night ...
Julie comments that Kristen is the only normal member of the family remaining. She has no laptop, no FaceBook, thus, no 21st century life. Todd chuckles. Emilie mumbles (after having wisdom tooth extraction earlier in the day). Kristen says ...
"Can't y'all just talk on FaceBook?"
Apparently, we were interrupting her movie.
As Todd, Julie, and Emilie sit with their laptops playing on FaceBook on a Friday night ...
Julie comments that Kristen is the only normal member of the family remaining. She has no laptop, no FaceBook, thus, no 21st century life. Todd chuckles. Emilie mumbles (after having wisdom tooth extraction earlier in the day). Kristen says ...
"Can't y'all just talk on FaceBook?"
Apparently, we were interrupting her movie.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Look ma, no hands!
It's pitiful that I haven't updated in more than three weeks, I know. If you're still reading, thanks for checking in faithfully anyway! I guess I'm going to have to start jabbing Kristen in the side to get her to say something new and hilarious, huh? ;-)Seems like I always post on the first day of school, though, so I must keep up the tradition.
Fall is not in the air here. Not at all. I didn't even get that weird little rush that usually comes with the first day of school, where you can somehow imagine fall is coming, even when it's still blazing hot. Now, if school had started LAST week, in the midst of some cooler, rainy days, maybe.
Today was surprisingly easy for day 1. I'd estimate about 15%, or 10 of the requisite forms are filled out (with exactly the SAME FREAKING INFO as last year! Can we just get a computer generated form to check off "all info the same as last year" puleeeze?!?!).
One started 6th grade, and bopped off with her friends for her second year in a school she likes. One started high school, and I have to admit that Julie of the non-teary first days of school (Can anyone shout, "FREEDOM!" with me?) had just the tiniest little lump in her throat as she drove away from dropping her oldest girl off. (First day privilege. She'll be waiting for the bus at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow with all the other freshmen whose parents believe in building character, saving gas and the environment, and the statistics that say it's safer to rider the school bus anyway.)
I simply had a quick realization that this is child two of three to start high school, and that really makes the remaining years of my hands-on job as a parent seem short. Even more considering how easily she jumped out of the car (well, not really jumped, but she wasn't nervous at all and neither was I). I must be doing something either really right or really wrong for her to be so confident. :)
My consolation is I had my children fairly far apart (five years between 1 and 2, and four years between 2 and 3). Originally, I said it was so I'd never have two in diapers at once, but more to the point, I realized how much I'd enjoy getting to know each one of my kids individually for a pretty long period of time and that I'd be a much better mom that way. We are not all wired the same as moms. (It was also nice having older kids who could tote the stinky diapers to the garage.)
So, Kristen will be a while in coming to this day of starting high school, but I'm sure it'll be here in a flash. And she'll be the one sitting in the car, clinging to my hand, saying, "Noooo! I'm not ready!"
Or maybe she won't, and I'll shake my head again.
Now, if I could just figure out the second-year college student and exactly where my responsibilities lie in helping him become an adult, I might sleep at night. This is harder than I thought it would be.
I simply had a quick realization that this is child two of three to start high school, and that really makes the remaining years of my hands-on job as a parent seem short. Even more considering how easily she jumped out of the car (well, not really jumped, but she wasn't nervous at all and neither was I). I must be doing something either really right or really wrong for her to be so confident. :)
My consolation is I had my children fairly far apart (five years between 1 and 2, and four years between 2 and 3). Originally, I said it was so I'd never have two in diapers at once, but more to the point, I realized how much I'd enjoy getting to know each one of my kids individually for a pretty long period of time and that I'd be a much better mom that way. We are not all wired the same as moms. (It was also nice having older kids who could tote the stinky diapers to the garage.)
So, Kristen will be a while in coming to this day of starting high school, but I'm sure it'll be here in a flash. And she'll be the one sitting in the car, clinging to my hand, saying, "Noooo! I'm not ready!"
Or maybe she won't, and I'll shake my head again.
Now, if I could just figure out the second-year college student and exactly where my responsibilities lie in helping him become an adult, I might sleep at night. This is harder than I thought it would be.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Ding ding ding!
Haven't done a Kristen says in a while ... so.
We've been trying to get her to bed earlier the last few nights so we can start gearing up for the new school year. She's nearly as bad a night owl as me, which is not a good thing come school time. So, about five minutes ago, I gave her instructions to get her teeth brushed, etc.
Todd saw her dawdling on the stairs on her way up.
Todd: Are you going to bed?
Kristen: No.
Todd: Wrong answer.
Kristen: No, sir.
We've been trying to get her to bed earlier the last few nights so we can start gearing up for the new school year. She's nearly as bad a night owl as me, which is not a good thing come school time. So, about five minutes ago, I gave her instructions to get her teeth brushed, etc.
Todd saw her dawdling on the stairs on her way up.
Todd: Are you going to bed?
Kristen: No.
Todd: Wrong answer.
Kristen: No, sir.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Oh, how they grow
It amazes me to realize this is the fourth year I've blogged on the birthday of my baby girl, who is not so much a baby any more. I just broke my middle child's heart, though, by commenting that I haven't been so faithful about blogging on her birthday. In typical middle child fashion, she hung her head and slunk into her room, then giggled. Then I reminded her she gets a national holiday and a three day weekend around her b-day every year. Blog schmog. Of course, then the younger daughter announced she gets a whole summer vacation.
For her birthday this year, we plan to remove the sign we put up over the window last year. Every now and then we notice it and comment, "We should probably take that sign down sometime. Naw, maybe next year after Kristen's birthday. Why waste a good sign?"
For her birthday this year, we plan to remove the sign we put up over the window last year. Every now and then we notice it and comment, "We should probably take that sign down sometime. Naw, maybe next year after Kristen's birthday. Why waste a good sign?"
So, here she is, my blue-eyed beauty, another year older, another year bolder, eating our national family food, fresh pineapple, and sporting a hairdo of her own making. I told her when she's 16 or 17 and going to prom, her friends are going to hate her for that curly hair. Let's hear it for the girl.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Bow to the Queen in Charge of the Cat's Delicate Stomach
At 7:30 a.m., I dragged myself out of bed to take the middle kid to colorguard camp, which she has every day all summer. nearly every week all summer. (It feels like every day.) As we walked through the front hallway, she asked, "You know there's cat barf there?" and pointed to the very edge of the carpet--the half inch that comes right before the tile, because that's how our cat rolls.
She has kidney disease and frequent hairballs and pukes a lot. We're not sure from which affliction, but at least a few times a week.
A few minutes ago, my younger daughter passed through and pointed to the same spot. "You know there's cat barf there?"
I predict that before the day is out, my mother or husband will point to the same spot and say, "You know there's cat barf there?" Well, maybe my husband won't. He might actually clean it up because he's cool like that.
If my son hadn't already absconded after only one year of college, he'd probably stroll through and say, "You know there's cat barf there, right?" (He'd add the "right," just for kicks.)
And I even know what you're saying. "Julie, you know there's cat barf there, right? And you haven't cleaned it up a full seven hours later?"
To all of you (minus my reading audience, unless you are one of the other mentioned parties), I say, "YES! I KNOW THERE IS CAT BARF THERE. BUT IF I AM APPARENTLY IN CHARGE OF CLEANING UP THE *FAMILY* CAT'S BARF, I WILL CHOOSE WHEN AND HOW TO CLEAN IT UP. IF I FEEL LIKE PASSING IT BY AND CLEANING IT UP LATER, DAG NABBIT, I WILL. AND ... BESIDES ... HOW AM I ANY DIFFERENT FROM YOU?"
Hmm?
Really, I'm not bitter. I'm not rebelling. It honestly just cleans up better after it dries and gets hard and crusty. Then you can just scoop it up, spray a little Oxy miracle spray on it, and voila! No cat barf or nasty stain from scooping it while it's ... okay, never mind that detail.
But, still. I'm just saying.
She has kidney disease and frequent hairballs and pukes a lot. We're not sure from which affliction, but at least a few times a week.
A few minutes ago, my younger daughter passed through and pointed to the same spot. "You know there's cat barf there?"
I predict that before the day is out, my mother or husband will point to the same spot and say, "You know there's cat barf there?" Well, maybe my husband won't. He might actually clean it up because he's cool like that.
If my son hadn't already absconded after only one year of college, he'd probably stroll through and say, "You know there's cat barf there, right?" (He'd add the "right," just for kicks.)
And I even know what you're saying. "Julie, you know there's cat barf there, right? And you haven't cleaned it up a full seven hours later?"
To all of you (minus my reading audience, unless you are one of the other mentioned parties), I say, "YES! I KNOW THERE IS CAT BARF THERE. BUT IF I AM APPARENTLY IN CHARGE OF CLEANING UP THE *FAMILY* CAT'S BARF, I WILL CHOOSE WHEN AND HOW TO CLEAN IT UP. IF I FEEL LIKE PASSING IT BY AND CLEANING IT UP LATER, DAG NABBIT, I WILL. AND ... BESIDES ... HOW AM I ANY DIFFERENT FROM YOU?"
Hmm?
Really, I'm not bitter. I'm not rebelling. It honestly just cleans up better after it dries and gets hard and crusty. Then you can just scoop it up, spray a little Oxy miracle spray on it, and voila! No cat barf or nasty stain from scooping it while it's ... okay, never mind that detail.
But, still. I'm just saying.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Bored already?
Here is a sign that summer vacation may already have gone on too long. While I work and ignore them, the children are practicing piano. In their pajamas. At 3:45 p.m.
While balancing footballs on their heads.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Redirect
If you're yearning for an update, check out the latest over at my other blog, where I share about our star sighting on the way OUT of Los Angeles.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Just saying
I'm still alive, I'm just in ...
Where my brother just escaped ...
Just kidding. He's really a pretty normal guy.Spending time with him and a few more of my favorite guys ...
And one of my favorite girls ...
Not to mention the scenery.
See you when I get back.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Kerrville, at last
I was waiting to post "the next day" until I maybe got the energy up to transfer video to my computer and upload a bit of the Kerrville performance to youtube, but ... I'm still waiting. It takes a lot of energy to do file transfers, you know.
So, until then, maybe this'll hold you:
So, until then, maybe this'll hold you:
Ryan playing at Kerrville.
I think his eyes were shut because of the sweat
rolling into them and burning. It was just a tad warm.
Check out those birkies.
Kicking back after his turn.
The outdoor theatre leads straight out the side
to the campgrounds and Texas Hill Country.
With his fellow songwriting competition winners,
from Texas A&M, UT, Texas State, and of course, UNT.
Guys in the middle are festival peoples.
Note: It appears the rolled up brown pants are part of some uniform??
The others didn't get the memo, apparently.
The other guy's were missing the holes in the backside, too.
(I forgot to make a note of the names of the other musicians. I do know the cute girl next to Ryan is HalleyAnna, and the guy with the shades is her string bass player, and they are called Starboat.)
Proud sistern. Before hippie chick transformation later that evening.
(Tie-dye dresses and airbrush tattoos.)
Next up, San Antonio. And maybe one day, video.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Nine
OnlyninemorenightsofdidyoudoyourhomeworkdidyouputupyourlaundrydidyoudothedishesdidyoubrushyourteethisyourswimsuitreadyisyourtowelreadydidyoupracticedoyouneedlunchmoneywhattimedoIneedtowakeyouupwhattimedoweneedtoleavearewetakinganyoneelsewhattimeshouldIpickyouuptomorrowdoyouhavesectionalsdoyouhavecolorguardpracticeareyoureallywearingthat?
And then I can go quietly insane on my own schedule for the summer.
And then I can go quietly insane on my own schedule for the summer.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Kids these days
It's been a while since I did a Kristen says, and I can't resist.
We have a policy in our house that if you want someone to sleep over, you have to clean your room before you receive permission. Otherwise, you can be a pig for as long as we can stand it. (I obviously never need to clean my room, because Todd lives here.)
Well, Kristen wanted to have a friend spend the night this weekend, so she called me on one of my numerous chauffeur runs this afternoon to ask. I reminded her she had to clean her room first. (Because, of course, they never remember the rules.) So, she called back about five minutes later to see if she could go play at a friend's house.
Me: Did you clean your room yet?
K: No, it won't take that long later.
Me: Hmm. I think you better decide now. Play now, no sleepover. Clean now, maybe play later, have sleepover.
K: Uh. Okay. I'm cleaning.
10 minutes later.
K: Can I go play now?
Me: Did you clean?
K: Yes.
Me: That wasn't very long ... are you sure? It's really clean? And the floor between your room and the stairs?
K: Yes! To my preference it is!
(You: HAHA!)
Me: You mean to your standards? How about mine?
K: I think so ...
Me: Okay, go play, we'll see when I get home.
3 hours later. Inspector Todd has ascended and removed wadded clothes and towels and papers and toys from strategic hiding places and deposited in the middle of floor. We go up to tuck Kristen in after having reminded her a couple of times to clean it up.
Me: I thought you said you cleaned!?!?!
K: I did, to my extent anyway.
(You: HAHAHA!)
Me: It's still a mess though.
K: Todd pulled all this stuff out!
Todd: But you said you cleaned it up again.
Kristen: (Pulls blanket over head.) I have no response.
That girl.
(I'm gonna cry when she turns 11. This age is freakin' hilarious. Of course, with her, I've been saying that every year.)
We have a policy in our house that if you want someone to sleep over, you have to clean your room before you receive permission. Otherwise, you can be a pig for as long as we can stand it. (I obviously never need to clean my room, because Todd lives here.)
Well, Kristen wanted to have a friend spend the night this weekend, so she called me on one of my numerous chauffeur runs this afternoon to ask. I reminded her she had to clean her room first. (Because, of course, they never remember the rules.) So, she called back about five minutes later to see if she could go play at a friend's house.
Me: Did you clean your room yet?
K: No, it won't take that long later.
Me: Hmm. I think you better decide now. Play now, no sleepover. Clean now, maybe play later, have sleepover.
K: Uh. Okay. I'm cleaning.
10 minutes later.
K: Can I go play now?
Me: Did you clean?
K: Yes.
Me: That wasn't very long ... are you sure? It's really clean? And the floor between your room and the stairs?
K: Yes! To my preference it is!
(You: HAHA!)
Me: You mean to your standards? How about mine?
K: I think so ...
Me: Okay, go play, we'll see when I get home.
3 hours later. Inspector Todd has ascended and removed wadded clothes and towels and papers and toys from strategic hiding places and deposited in the middle of floor. We go up to tuck Kristen in after having reminded her a couple of times to clean it up.
Me: I thought you said you cleaned!?!?!
K: I did, to my extent anyway.
(You: HAHAHA!)
Me: It's still a mess though.
K: Todd pulled all this stuff out!
Todd: But you said you cleaned it up again.
Kristen: (Pulls blanket over head.) I have no response.
That girl.
(I'm gonna cry when she turns 11. This age is freakin' hilarious. Of course, with her, I've been saying that every year.)
Friday, March 28, 2008
What's in the water?
Back when I was a kid, the last place you ever expected to see your parents was in the school cafeteria, unless it was a PTA meeting or program ... or you were in big trouble.
Not so anymore. It seems the latest badge of a "cool kid" is to have your mom or dad show up at lunchtime to eat with you. Even cooler when they come bearing fast food. It buys you the privilege of sitting at a special table with the 'rents and even picking one or two friends to come along if you are so moved.
So, my youngest wants to be cool, of course. (And maybe, just maybe, she actually likes to see us in the middle of the day for an extra hug and kiss as well.) She laid the heavy guilt on me last night. "Whennn are you going to come eat lunch with me? Todd does it alllll the time and he even has to do it on his day off and you don't even go to work anywhere!"
I told her he was just good at it--better at it than me, obviously. But of course, I showed up today. Fun was had by all, the food was even pretty good. No, I didn't take fast food. Can anyone imagine me getting there in time for lunch AND scheduling it so I managed to buy fast food on the way? Right.
There were only a few questionable situations.
First, the kids in this 5th/6th grade school have been SO BAD at lunch they had silent lunch several days this week. Including today! Yay! I asked Kristen when I got there if she wanted me to stay or come back another day when we could actually talk. She thought I was pretty silly and said you're allowed to talk when you're with your parent at the special table.
It was awkward, however, being one of about 10 people allowed to talk in a cafeteria stuffed with 300 silent 5th and 6th graders staring at you pitifully. Especially the kid sitting across from us (because apparently the special parent table is only the special parent *side* of the table in certain areas). He had long, stringy hair, glasses, loads of uncomfortable looking freckles, appeared to be about 15 instead of 12, and glared at us the whole time we ate and tried to make normal conversation.
We managed reasonably well, though, which leads to questionable situation number two. I picked up a bottle of water in the lunch line because (as I mentioned recently) I am not a fan of milk as a general rule. Especially not school milk. Ew. So, we were eating our pizza, corn on the cob, applesauce, and mandarin oranges, and Kristen asked if she could have a drink of my water. She was out of milk and the pizza was making her verrrry thirsty.
She studied the bottle, took a few swigs, then looked at it again and started reading the label out loud.
Kristen: "Water with fluoride. Isn't that the stuff they use for dead people?"
Me: "No, you must be thinking of formaldehyde." (For today, only, I was apparently smarter than a fifth grader.)
Kristen: "Oh, yeah."
But she pushed it back my way anyway.
The bell rang soon after and thus ended our lunch together. But, if Kristen and I start looking pickled any time in the near future, you'll know why.
Not so anymore. It seems the latest badge of a "cool kid" is to have your mom or dad show up at lunchtime to eat with you. Even cooler when they come bearing fast food. It buys you the privilege of sitting at a special table with the 'rents and even picking one or two friends to come along if you are so moved.
So, my youngest wants to be cool, of course. (And maybe, just maybe, she actually likes to see us in the middle of the day for an extra hug and kiss as well.) She laid the heavy guilt on me last night. "Whennn are you going to come eat lunch with me? Todd does it alllll the time and he even has to do it on his day off and you don't even go to work anywhere!"
I told her he was just good at it--better at it than me, obviously. But of course, I showed up today. Fun was had by all, the food was even pretty good. No, I didn't take fast food. Can anyone imagine me getting there in time for lunch AND scheduling it so I managed to buy fast food on the way? Right.
There were only a few questionable situations.
First, the kids in this 5th/6th grade school have been SO BAD at lunch they had silent lunch several days this week. Including today! Yay! I asked Kristen when I got there if she wanted me to stay or come back another day when we could actually talk. She thought I was pretty silly and said you're allowed to talk when you're with your parent at the special table.
It was awkward, however, being one of about 10 people allowed to talk in a cafeteria stuffed with 300 silent 5th and 6th graders staring at you pitifully. Especially the kid sitting across from us (because apparently the special parent table is only the special parent *side* of the table in certain areas). He had long, stringy hair, glasses, loads of uncomfortable looking freckles, appeared to be about 15 instead of 12, and glared at us the whole time we ate and tried to make normal conversation.
We managed reasonably well, though, which leads to questionable situation number two. I picked up a bottle of water in the lunch line because (as I mentioned recently) I am not a fan of milk as a general rule. Especially not school milk. Ew. So, we were eating our pizza, corn on the cob, applesauce, and mandarin oranges, and Kristen asked if she could have a drink of my water. She was out of milk and the pizza was making her verrrry thirsty.
She studied the bottle, took a few swigs, then looked at it again and started reading the label out loud.
Kristen: "Water with fluoride. Isn't that the stuff they use for dead people?"
Me: "No, you must be thinking of formaldehyde." (For today, only, I was apparently smarter than a fifth grader.)
Kristen: "Oh, yeah."
But she pushed it back my way anyway.
The bell rang soon after and thus ended our lunch together. But, if Kristen and I start looking pickled any time in the near future, you'll know why.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Academy Awards highlights
Of course, our family's most exciting moment--Falling Slowly for Best Song from the movie Once. Amazing! What a boost for independent musicians and film makers. My family screamed when they announced this award. Congratulations, Glen and Marketa! (You do read my blog, right?)
Diablo Cody's award for best original screenplay for Juno was also a pleasant surprise.
And then, Kristen says . . .
After various awards for a certain film, which you must figure out for yourself:
"What is a born-old tomato?"
and
When Nicole Kidman came out with her 1,400 carats:
"That is some necklace."
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Kristen says ...
Gail's blog about her witty grandson Sam reminded me of "Kristen says the darnedst things"--a category I've neglected for a while. :-) Either she's getting older, or I'm getting less observant. I fear it is both. So, to that end, I will regale you of a recent tale.
You know there are two givens when you have kids. (At least.) The first is they will follow you into the bathroom and it will be at least 18 years before you have the assurance you will be able to do your business alone again. Maybe more. Anyway. The second is when you hear a suspicious noise, or silence, whichever the case may be (and often scarier in the second incarnation), and you ask, "What are you doing?" you know what the answer will be, right? Exactly. "Nothing."
Well, this morning Kristen proved one of these points, but she's wised up on the second. I was in the shower and could hear little noises coming from the other side of the (frosted) door. So, in good mom form, I said, "What are you doing?"
She said, "Just standing here. Breathing."
Dadgummit. Just when you think you've got them trained.
And just so the other two won't feel left out:
Ryan texted me the other night, very excited, from college. "Mom, I just found the Denton Piggly Wiggly!" That, my friends, is scary. He's apparently been missing his small town grocery shopping exeriences from East Texas and Alabama.
And Emilie? She is quite the wise one. She recently dumped her boyfriend of more than two years (yeah, she's 14, but I think it's easy to stay committed for two years when you only see them five minutes a day during passing periods). We were talking about it in the car and she said, "I just wasn't interested in such a serious relationship at age 14." Go, girl. And if she kills me for this, it will mysteriously disappear from this blog without warning. :-D (You may wonder, but the kids are always asking me if I'm going to blog things they say, and they almost look happy about it. Watch out, Jerry Springer.)
What would I do without my kids to make me laugh?
You know there are two givens when you have kids. (At least.) The first is they will follow you into the bathroom and it will be at least 18 years before you have the assurance you will be able to do your business alone again. Maybe more. Anyway. The second is when you hear a suspicious noise, or silence, whichever the case may be (and often scarier in the second incarnation), and you ask, "What are you doing?" you know what the answer will be, right? Exactly. "Nothing."
Well, this morning Kristen proved one of these points, but she's wised up on the second. I was in the shower and could hear little noises coming from the other side of the (frosted) door. So, in good mom form, I said, "What are you doing?"
She said, "Just standing here. Breathing."
Dadgummit. Just when you think you've got them trained.
And just so the other two won't feel left out:
Ryan texted me the other night, very excited, from college. "Mom, I just found the Denton Piggly Wiggly!" That, my friends, is scary. He's apparently been missing his small town grocery shopping exeriences from East Texas and Alabama.
And Emilie? She is quite the wise one. She recently dumped her boyfriend of more than two years (yeah, she's 14, but I think it's easy to stay committed for two years when you only see them five minutes a day during passing periods). We were talking about it in the car and she said, "I just wasn't interested in such a serious relationship at age 14." Go, girl. And if she kills me for this, it will mysteriously disappear from this blog without warning. :-D (You may wonder, but the kids are always asking me if I'm going to blog things they say, and they almost look happy about it. Watch out, Jerry Springer.)
What would I do without my kids to make me laugh?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Is it spring break yet?
Fifth grade is hard. I have a lot of homework this year.
(And let me just say that it is good I am not a teacher. I am not a patient homework helper. My poor kids.)
(And let me just say that it is good I am not a teacher. I am not a patient homework helper. My poor kids.)
Friday, September 07, 2007
Not quite ready for prime time
My kids have always been pretty mature for their ages. Really. Other people tell me that frequently; it's not just my humble opinion. Of course, there is Ryan, who maybe reached the peak of his maturity and is going backwards now that he's in college. But anyway.
Tonight Todd and I decided to take our 10-year-old out with us for a slightly more cultural and in-tee-lect-ual evening than we usually attempt with kids in tow. We like our date nights, hadn't had one in a few weeks, and Kristen didn't have plans, so we just dragged her along.
First stop, First Fridays at the Modern. Kristen loves art, talks of becoming an artist one day, or, for plan B, an art teacher. So, we figured a short visit to the Modern was not a stretch. She's been there before with my in-laws and enjoyed it. She frequently refers to "I like to call him Andy Warhog" as her favorite artist, and really digs his flourescent green and black self-portrait hanging at the Modern. So, the special exhibit right now is sculptures by Ron Mueck. Amazing lifelike sculptures of people, only larger or smaller than the real thing. We've seen lots of news ads and reviews for this collection and thought it would be fun and Kristen would enjoy it, too. There was, however, the small matter of (in the museum's own words) mature subject matter, including nudity.
I led Kristen around this exhibit for 30 minutes or so with her arm intertwined with mine and both of her hands covering her eyes. She kept warning me not to lead her up or down any stairs without letting her know ahead of time, and asking, "Can I look now?" I kept telling her she could look all she wanted, but she'd only peel her hands away from her eyes if I placed her directly in front of a sculpture that wouldn't alarm her and promised there weren't any scary ones in her peripheral vision.
We got lots of sidelong grins and guffaws from other patrons.
Moving right along, when the museum closed, we went to Sardine's, a local Italian restaurant that's been around forever but I'd never been to. We didn't expect it to be quite so ... dark. As we walked in, Kristen said several times, "It's very dark in there. It's too dark, let's just go to Dickey's BBQ," which was right next door. We were able to read the menus by holding them very close to the candle.
The food was delicious, despite the fact they didn't have any kids' entrees. Kristen and I just decided to split spaghetti con pollo (a/k/a spaghetti with chicken), and they went ahead and put it on two plates for us. (Of course, that was $3 extra when we got the check, but they really did give us a ton of food for the money--we probably brought half of it home.) Kristen ate a few leaves of lettuce from the salad we split three ways and announced she was full. I convinced her she should try some of the spaghetti and said I'd pick off the green things and put all the chicken on my plate so all she'd be left with was plain old spaghetti.
Well ... in the process of handing me her plate, we knocked over a glass of Coke, and had to throw our cloth napkins over the rapidly spreading puddle before it ran into our laps. Our waiter came by shortly and offered to let us move to a new table, but we preferred to stay in our very dark corner. He brought new napkins, but for some reason dropped Kristen's into the remaining puddle. Really, he was very gracious and nice, but when we said we still needed another napkin, he brought several, and when I said I needed a new straw, he brought four. Hmm. Rough night for our waiter.
Kristen proceeded to entertain us with our favorite family party trick--sucking her nostrils totally in without touching her nose with her fingers at all. She also enjoyed dancing all over her side of the booth to the jazz combo's fortunately LOUD accompaniment.
All in all, it was a lovely evening. I had fuzzy memories of what it was like to go out with the kids when they were much younger, and a reminder that as mature as we like to think our kids are, they're not always quite ready for prime time.
Gotta love 'em.
Tonight Todd and I decided to take our 10-year-old out with us for a slightly more cultural and in-tee-lect-ual evening than we usually attempt with kids in tow. We like our date nights, hadn't had one in a few weeks, and Kristen didn't have plans, so we just dragged her along.
First stop, First Fridays at the Modern. Kristen loves art, talks of becoming an artist one day, or, for plan B, an art teacher. So, we figured a short visit to the Modern was not a stretch. She's been there before with my in-laws and enjoyed it. She frequently refers to "I like to call him Andy Warhog" as her favorite artist, and really digs his flourescent green and black self-portrait hanging at the Modern. So, the special exhibit right now is sculptures by Ron Mueck. Amazing lifelike sculptures of people, only larger or smaller than the real thing. We've seen lots of news ads and reviews for this collection and thought it would be fun and Kristen would enjoy it, too. There was, however, the small matter of (in the museum's own words) mature subject matter, including nudity.
I led Kristen around this exhibit for 30 minutes or so with her arm intertwined with mine and both of her hands covering her eyes. She kept warning me not to lead her up or down any stairs without letting her know ahead of time, and asking, "Can I look now?" I kept telling her she could look all she wanted, but she'd only peel her hands away from her eyes if I placed her directly in front of a sculpture that wouldn't alarm her and promised there weren't any scary ones in her peripheral vision.
We got lots of sidelong grins and guffaws from other patrons.
Moving right along, when the museum closed, we went to Sardine's, a local Italian restaurant that's been around forever but I'd never been to. We didn't expect it to be quite so ... dark. As we walked in, Kristen said several times, "It's very dark in there. It's too dark, let's just go to Dickey's BBQ," which was right next door. We were able to read the menus by holding them very close to the candle.
The food was delicious, despite the fact they didn't have any kids' entrees. Kristen and I just decided to split spaghetti con pollo (a/k/a spaghetti with chicken), and they went ahead and put it on two plates for us. (Of course, that was $3 extra when we got the check, but they really did give us a ton of food for the money--we probably brought half of it home.) Kristen ate a few leaves of lettuce from the salad we split three ways and announced she was full. I convinced her she should try some of the spaghetti and said I'd pick off the green things and put all the chicken on my plate so all she'd be left with was plain old spaghetti.
Well ... in the process of handing me her plate, we knocked over a glass of Coke, and had to throw our cloth napkins over the rapidly spreading puddle before it ran into our laps. Our waiter came by shortly and offered to let us move to a new table, but we preferred to stay in our very dark corner. He brought new napkins, but for some reason dropped Kristen's into the remaining puddle. Really, he was very gracious and nice, but when we said we still needed another napkin, he brought several, and when I said I needed a new straw, he brought four. Hmm. Rough night for our waiter.
Kristen proceeded to entertain us with our favorite family party trick--sucking her nostrils totally in without touching her nose with her fingers at all. She also enjoyed dancing all over her side of the booth to the jazz combo's fortunately LOUD accompaniment.
All in all, it was a lovely evening. I had fuzzy memories of what it was like to go out with the kids when they were much younger, and a reminder that as mature as we like to think our kids are, they're not always quite ready for prime time.
Gotta love 'em.
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