Shimmie shimmie shoes..... for rent

Many hundreds of years ago, when The Husband and I were child-free, my sister and her The Husband were cooperative enough to provide me with a cool little nephew and Godson. My plan for my life with children was to enjoy, bask in the adoration, and spoil spoil spoil my little nieces and nephews. Always, ALWAYS, with the option to turn around and hand them back over to a more responsible party capable of meeting all those tedious and un-fun needs. In other words, back to Mom and Dad. Or someone. Someone else.

Part of the spoiling available to a double -income- no- kid family, is expensive things that are ridiculous for a child to have. So the family who is child- free is able to give gifts that are impractical but, really really cool. Such as, a pair of Nike *ahem* running shoes for a child just about one year old.

So impractical were these shoes, but so so oh so cute. Obscenely expensive, I remember they were around $40.00. I just could not get over how cute these little shoes were. They are about 3 inches long, dark blue with orange and white. Before I gave them, I used to take them out of the box and play with them a bit. They were just so dang adorable, I swear they smiled back at me! I set them on a counter where I could unintentionally see them every day.

Finally I gave them to my nephew as a random gift of Auntiehood. Then, I became pregnant. Coincidence? No. I think those shoes got my ovaries jumping. Ready to party down. Ready to get up off their lazy tubes and get to work. (my apologizes to any rigid anatomy purists).

Along came Teena and along with Teena's appearance came the complete and total disappearance of nephew- spoiling funds. Actually, the complete and total disappearance of a lot of funds. Most funds. The shoes came to live at my house again, for Teena to wear on her non-walking feet as a baby. Anyway.

My sister and her The Husband decided they wanted me to have another nephew, and Teena another cousin so they set about cooking one up. Only, there was stubbornness encountered. Stubbornness encountered that would become explained once next nephew put in his appearance. Now I may be taking some liberties with the actual facts (and many liberties with grammar), but as I remember it, my sister and I had a conversation about those little Nike shoes and happy ovaries and shoo-wop doo-wop, along came next nephew. Then came Genea and suddenly there were a lot of kids running around our parents house on Thanksgiving.

And yet, my sister and her The Husband decided again that they wanted me to have just one more niece or nephew. They had bought a big house you see, and had bedrooms with no one in them. Clearly that was unacceptable, so they again set out to cook up another baby. Every *ahem* appointment was kept for 2 years with no little biscuit joining the meeting.

Suddenly one day, in a land much further north, an Auntie was cleaning out her closet. The Auntie had not done this in a dreadfully long time however things had started to move out of this closet by themselves in the night and the situation had become dire. The Auntie (that's me) came across the adorable pair of little baby Nike shoes. Soooooo so cute! I remembered that my sister was diligently having appointments in order to provide me with the next niece or nephew and I decided to set those little shoes aside and send them to her. For inspiration. For her ovaries. And whatever else might benefit from some inspiration.

But I never got a chance. Because she called me a few days ago to say that she is pregnant!

It's the shoes.

Now being as we in this house are now a family of two- kids- one- income, there is no money for expensive ridiculous little things therefore I am willing to rent out the mojo of my Shimmie Shimmie Fertility Nike's. So, who is going to be first?

And of course, congratulations to my sister and her new baby on the way! I'm going to be an Auntie again!

Too True Tues

Well I have to admit, Too True Tues turned out to be a lot more fun than I even thought it would be. I thought it would be fun, I didn't know it would be really fun! Who knew there was something worse than granny panties? I mean, seriously!

Now I have this Mr Linky widget so no one has to go digging around at the end of the post comments looking for backlinks.

Here it comes. My embarrassing but true thing. It isn't a bad one as in I did a bad thing. It is a bad one as in, wow, how stupid can one person be. Just one person, all by herself. You'll find the answer next.

When Teena was 2, so two years ago, I called her doctor and got a same day appointment. For what? Because her head was smelly. Oh yes I did.

See, here's the deal. Teena is a sweaty kid. She heats up fast and when she sleeps her head sweats bucket loads of... sweat...and... stuff. Honestly, I have had to replace many a pillow because of the funk and stains. Even as a baby this would happen. After a day or two of hot weather, her head would start to stink but it wasn't all that bad until she started to (finally!) grow hair. Then the funk would get in her hair and it would stay. And it is a bizarre smell, difficult to describe. Very rich and sort of like expired ground beef.

Not exactly my dream for my little girl.

Anyway, go figure I was watching TV, House maybe? And they were talking about this disease that resulted in the smell of maple syrup. Many months later, during a hot stretch of weather and no air conditioning my amazing powers of recall (for irrelevant bullshit that is, not important stuff) brought that little bit into the front of my tired brain and my brain said to me, Self, you should really look into that on the web. So then I find out about all kinds of metabolic or endocrine or something diseases that cause a stink on a person. AAAAAAAAAAAack! Called the doctor. Who said, bless her heart, that I'd better go ahead and bring Teena in.

Of course they ran tests and she was fine. I think the chances are pretty high that they said to bring her in so they could check me out. Looking for my tinfoil hat meant to deflect the alien rays. Or sniffing to see if it was me that stank. Of whiskey.

But the stink is still there. I mean, you could wash her head 3 times and the funk would still hover around. We attached a small fan to her bedrail and it has gotten a little better as she has gotten older. But if it creeps in, it is hard to get out and she is still a very sweaty little kid. Obviously that comes from the other side of the family.

OKAY! So tell a story! Something unexpected, maybe even embarrassing about you! Put yourself on the little linky thing here!

Virginia anyone?

I finally cobbled together enough money (and credit)to go to the Beyond Consequences Instructor training in September. It will be in Virginia Beach- anyone want to come? Anyone live in the area (and willing to reveal it)? I am going to go a day early to hang out at the beach, or pool, or bar or whatever.
Here is the website

www.beyondconsequences.com

Then maybe, I can get a J. o. b. !

Sometimes I know what I am doing....

Sometimes.... not so much!
Ok, most times not so much!

So I did my Too True Tues and several people went ahead and did a post too which is SO COOL! And hilarious I might add! But not all of them are showing up on the link back thingie and being honest I have no idea why. Some showed up yesterday and are gone today. Some new ones came on today and so I am going to list them here and next week I will plan ahead!

Momma Chaos
Annie
Sherific Sheri
Mylifeandloves
***NEW*** 8/8/09
Mountain Momma

If you fessed up on something and it is not showing up, leave me a note and I will add your link. This is way too important information to leave to chance!

minor bump in the road

So I am not even going to hint that this is a big problem. It is not any sort of issue to get fussed up about, just the sort of thing that made me think twice. So, thought I would share. Cuz that is how I am. Generous.


When Teena was in her pre- 4k summer school class, there was a little girl who started a few days late. Teena and she became friends, in that 4 year old little girl way. She came home one day all excited about her new friend and so I asked about the girl. The conversation went like this.

Me "How cool, a new friend! Tell me about her!"

Teena "Um, she is my friend"

Me "What do you like about her?"

Teena "She is my friend"

Me "Okay.... what does she look like?"

Teena "I don't know"

Me *sigh running out of patience....* "Okay, what color hair does she have?"

Teena *pause* "She doesn't have any hair"

Me (Ohhhhhhh, must be the kind of friend no one else can see) "Okay, eat your lunch."

A week or so later, I met the little girl who did indeed turn out to be real. And you know what? She has NO HAIR! Ha ha, her hair was cut super super short, just head fringe really. She appears to be Indian, as in from India, not as in Native American. Teena just looooves her. She also has the prettiest girlie name, and wears the most gorgeous girlie dresses.

Getting to the point, tonite Teena was dancing around in front of that show America's Most Talented Whatever. The one Genea is going to sing on as soon as we knock the crap out of her mental health issues. And she said, out of nowhere, sticking her foot up on my coffee table and showing me her leg, "look Mama, my skin is almost as dark as my friend Girlie". This is what my brain said:

*aaauck!!! She shouldn't say that! Could that be considered a racist thing to say? Her friend might be offended! Other kids might be offended! That's offensive! Correct her! Get on that now! Baaak! Yikes!*

My first instinct was to jump in there and correct Teena. Just to let her know that is not something we comment on to other people. We don't talk about skin color with people who have different skin colors. It could be considered rude. Or offensive. Or worse. I mean sure we were in our own home in our basement, but if I didn't say something in the moment, I would be missing an opportunity to teach her something important, really important. And if I let the comment slip by, was I letting her know that it is okay to say these things? Giving the wrong impression? These thoughts conflicted with my other thoughts, which were basically she is 4 and she says 75,000 things in an hour and her perspective is probably that she wants to be like her friend.



When I was a kid, I was ignorant of racism. Ignorant as in, I just did not know about it and so I did not think in that pattern. But in a very real way, that is a luxury I was allowed. The circumstances I was born into made that lack of awareness sustainable. Many more people in the world have no choice but be fully cognizant at all times. While I strongly feel as an adult that people in this country need to be aware of racism, acknowledge it and do their part to work against it, I also see a value in leaving that slate clean for a time. Because when I learned about things like slavery and the holocaust, it scared the hell out of me. That people could treat other people in such heinous, tortured ways... it was terrifying and horrifying at the same time. And honestly, it may be right or wrong or none of the above but learning about it made me look at people from different racial backgrounds in a way I hadn't before. It was intimidating I think, to look at people knowing how they had been treated by others and survived. Fear of a misstep changed my interactions for a time. There was also a certain disconnect though, for example my friend next door was 8, and I was 8, and he was Jewish and I was Catholic and we were both born only 8 years prior. He also was not a girl and I was. THAT was the big difference to me, as a kid. Big kids taunted us for being friends because he was a boy.



Like I said, conflicted. On one hand, I think maybe I should have laid some groundwork with my girls on the subject. On the other hand I think well, sooooo, Teena is right, she is getting tanned and her skin is getting darker and her little friend Girlie does have slightly darker toned skin. And if I make an issue of it, then it is out there as an issue. But then, if Teena said something like, look at that old lady in the wheelchair and pointed, I would correct her. If we came across someone who is albino and she said, wow that person is really light and pale, I would shush her, even if we were just driving by in the car and the person could not hear us.

By disclaimer though, I am in no way shape or form trying to make this a bigger issue than a minor bump in the road that got me thinking. My perspective comes from only the direction of being Caucasian from a Caucasian background, and that might make me less aware than I could be.

Conflicted, like I said. And quite likely overthinking. Ahem.

Too True Tues

I had an idea and it sounded like fun in my brain. However my judgement may be altered and unreliable from being saturated in children's TV. I thought it might be fun to have a bi- monthly post about something personal, true, but unexpected. Then other people can post their unexpected but true facts and link back and it will turn in to a huge festival of true and possibly embarrassing confessions. Doesn't that sound like fun?!!?



So here is the idea. Write about something you probably should be embarrassed about but aren't. Something you hide, but don't deliberately keep from people. Like, if you were being tortured in a prison in a third world country, they would need no water to get this little fact out of you. If they threatened to play country music oldies at full blast all day and all night long, you would spill the beans and make a big ol' mess on the floor waaaaay before they ever hit the play button.

Here is mine.



I LOVE granny panties. Oh YEAH. In fact, I believe that the average Granny is likely to be jealous of my undies. You could sew a house cozy out of them. Big white shapeless cotton drawers. Mmm hmmm.



I have no use for scratchy lace. Sure lace is pretty! On... well.... on something I am sure. But definitely not on my undies. Don't need a fancy high-leg looking cut of the fabric. Don't care where they hit on my hip. High rise, low rise, ranch style, not interested. Briefs, bikini, boy cut huh? No flowers or seashells or deadbolts printed on the fabric. No shiny fabrics that slip around, no thank you. I want me some security in the positioning. I just don't want anything sliding. Nuff said. Filmy delicate mesh type material? Non applicable. If they can't go in the laundry with my jeans and survive, they are going to die from drowning. Seriously, the only thing I hand wash is my hands.



Don't even get me started on thongs. Strapping dental floss on my rear end, just not my idea of a good time. I spend my days trying to get my undies OUT of my butt, not the other way around. And lets face it, thongs just scream "hootchie". Get you a thong and a tongue piercing and you will have my kids in 10 years (just kidding, really). (that better not happen yikes). People that say they wear thongs so they don't have panty lines are just lying. Yup, I said it. Lying. Put on some granny panties! They stretch so far that if lines are going to show they will be at your knees and get lost in the bend anyway. Ha! Solved that problem didn't I!



So that is the idea. Be thinking about your semi- shameful secret that you are ready to share with the People of the Air. I will take the next week to figure out a linky thingie to use. (PLEASE don't leave me hanging here like an idiot!) You can start now if you want, use the linkback feature, or leave a link in the comments and I will put it up.



Just plain, white, huge granny panties. The bigger, the better. The huge-er they are, the happier I am!

Slacker parenting rules!

We have, at my last frantic look, 29 days until school starts again.

tick, tick, tick......

Last week I realized the error of my ways. I had inadvertently left the TV on and someone had put on PBS. I don't know who. It was like putting Dennis Rodman in front of a bar. The girls just got sucked right in and appeared unable to move themselves away. Physically unable. Glued to the edge of the couch/ bar stool. Quiet. Did I mention the quiet? Calm too.

This is what I have been doing wrong, I have been forcing these dear little innocents to use their brains. Exercise their minds. Exercise their bodies. Get sun. Get fresh air. Practice handwriting. Learn coins. All those useless ways to make time go by. Fighting. Arguing. Whining. Resisting. Complaining. UGH!

When all along, all I had to do to get cooperative, pleasant children, was to turn on the TV. Dangit. Some day I will get this right.

(the above is glorious use of a highly developed skill set in sarcasm and is not intended to reflect reality)

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