Saturday, April 4, 2009

How to drive your mother insane, otherwise known as being a teenager

Anybody have a teenager or two at home? Want mine? I had to take the two of them shopping for shoes today. Not fun.

One of them doesn't really need new shoes. She just wants them. She wants to buy every shoe she tries on, but alas, has no cash. The other has cash, but doesn't want to part with any of it. He also hates every shoe made, every style made, every material they're made from, every color they make, on and on, ad nauseum. He, however, needed new shoes. He'll tell you he doesn't but I know better. I've seen his shoes and they should be given to men wearing hazardous material suits.

Three hours of my life was given to this pursuit. Three hours that I could have been knitting, or shopping for shoes for myself. Three hours I could have spent spring cleaning or something else equally pleasurable. [Did I really just write that?]

End result? Three hours lost, two pairs of shoes bought for her, one mother vowing never to take them shopping again, zero shoes bought for him. Ugh.

I'll be going out again tomorrow.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Sighin' and cryin'

I have a friend I've known since kindergarten, and for anyone who knows me, that was quite a while ago. Pooh. She has three boys, the youngest one about ten years younger than the middle one. We decided the other night that he's her "do-over". She gets to do motherhood again, knowing all the stuff she learned the first time around. As we were talking about that, I started thinking about my own kids and what kind of mom I've been. A good one, I hope. I think so. They might tell you different, depending on what kind of trouble they've gotten themselves into. But it made me think about time passing, boo-hoo, and I started to look at old pics of my kids and how much they've grown and I noticed something. I have a lot of pictures of the the two of them actually laughing with each other. They like each other. That warms my heart.

I've always wondered if my kids will be friends when they become adults. My sissy is one of my best friends. We hang out together a lot. We laugh and cry. We get mad but we make up. We share. We have fun. When I look at these pics, I hope they do all these things too. Except the crying part. I don't think my son will do that.

Of course, after I started looking at these pics, I got weepy because time went by way too fast. They grew up. They got big. They don't fit on my lap anymore and I can't cuddle them. I need to stop looking at these pics.

Now my oldest is getting ready for college and my youngest will follow him a few years later. We still have some time with her. Maybe I can teach her more things. Like how to become friends with sales clerks so they tell you when the sales come out. Or why you don't want to upset your mother since she's holding the purse strings when you shop together. Important things like that.

Goodbye childhood. It was nice to know you.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Spring showers bring (fake) flowers

Ask anyone who knows me, I kill plants. I don't mean to. It just happens. I don't really have to do anything, maybe just walk by them. My husband reassures them (all two of them) as I walk by that I'm not going to harm them and please, don't die. These were healthy, vibrant, green and growing when we moved in. Below are pics of our houseplants now.

They're not even my plants. They belong to my mother-in-law, who is a plant whisperer. She can grow a sixty foot palm tree from a piece of dust. Look what I've done to these plants, and I don't even go near them.

What's a girl to do? She gets fake flowers. They don't die, they don't need water, and when I get tired of them, I put them in the closet for a little while.

My sissy is a new convert to fake flowers. She pooh-poohed me when I started my collection but now skips happily along beside me, gathering flowers in her arms as we shop. [Can you say "little red riding hood"?] She doesn't have to buy them since she can actually grow things. The only thing I can grow is mold on the inside of my sour cream containers.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Fishing isn't for sissies

I love having my nieces for sleepovers. I get to do all kinds of fun things that I don't take time to do by myself, like shrinky dinks. They are very cool to watch in the oven. They curl up into some hideously deformed blob, and just when you think they couldn't get any worse, they flatten right out. Amazing. I don't have any pics of the actual shrinking of the dinks [is that what they're called?] since my oven hasn't been cleaned in quite a while and we'll leave it at that. But I did get some pics of my nieces preparing them.

After we did our shrinking, we had meatballs, cucumbers, and carrots. D. made her meatball sandwich, just like Auntie and J. For dessert we had root beer floats. I'm not going to tell you how much root beer I put in, let's just say it's a good thing their mother wasn't around. Sorry, sissy, there are no rules at Auntie's house. So there.

But the best part of the night came while we were playing Wii. D. and E. were playing together and D. lost every single game, every single time. Every. single. time. She doesn't take this very well.

So they're playing the fishing game and D. is pulling in more fish than E. But, in the very last moments of the game, E. lands a huge fish worth a bajillion points. D. loses again.

Auntie takes pity on her and says, "Hey, D. I'll play with you because I always lose at this so you will definitely beat Auntie." Auntie wins. Uh-oh. Tears. Minor meltdown.

Her sissy takes pity on her and says, "D., I'll play with you only..." [and this is when K. and I fell out of our chairs, laughing] "...I won't do anything. I'll just sit in the chair and close my eyes even."

D. is okay with this. She starts playing, tells her sissy not to do anything, and starts pulling in fish.

The wrong ones.

The ones that give you negative points.

She's down 190 points before you know it. E. is winning the game and she's sitting in a chair with the remote in her lap and her eyes closed. UH-OH. I start rooting on D., telling her to go near the really big fish. Please, honey, go near the really big fish. She finally lands one with not a second to spare and wins the game. Final score 20-0.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Friday Five

Getting this in just under the wire....

1. Favorite shoes?

2. What time does the sun set near you?

3. Do you like spending time in the sun?

4. Do you burn or tan?

5. Monopoly: yay! or no way!

Look for my answers in the comments!

Shoe Rants (and knitting love)

That is what I saw on the shoe rack TEN days after I needed them. I spent countless hours searching towns, cities, hills, valleys, dales, whatever it took to find a pair of white leather ballerina flats. They could not be found. Anywhere. TEN days after the wedding there's an abundance of white leather ballerina flats. I counted four pairs before I turned around and walked out of the store. Grrrrrr.

This is the new project I put on the needles. A green cable knit sweater. I have nothing green. I'm Irish. I need green things. I discovered this when I went to find something green to wear to work on St. Paddy's day. The best I could come up with was a greenish, orangish, yellowish (I have no idea what color it is) turtleneck that has tiny little bleach spots on the front from my husband's efforts at doing the laundry. I stuck a pin over them and hid them, kind of. But it really irritated me all day that that turtleneck was the best I could do. What kind of Irish woman am I? So, on the needle went a new project. I love it. The yarn is squishy soft, warm and oh so cozy. It's some sort of fancy schmancy wool that I can't remember the name of but it cost me my first born. [Not really. I offered him in trade and Pam said no.] I can't wait to wear it. I just can't let my husband anywhere near it with a bottle of bleach.

P.S. Anyone know where I can find a pair of black flat dressy shoes with a pointy toe?

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Perfect Dinner....

according to my 5 year old girls that are going to "Auntie's" aka my sissy's house for a sleepover this coming Saturday night:

Spaghetti and Meatballs
Bread--in case you want to make a meatball sandwich or just to eat plain
Root Beer Floats

Seriously, this is what they are going to have. They discussed it the other day when "Auntie" came over before they left for school. Auntie let them decide everything.

It's kind of obnoxious the rock star status "Auntie" has in our house. In my girls world she is "da bomb". And she really is called Auntie...not, Auntie C. I was having a conversation with one of the girls, D., a month or so ago & was referring to Auntie C. She looked at me serious as can be & says, "Mom, can you just call her Auntie". No lie. So, in our house she is just "Auntie". Rock star. Kind of like Cher, Madonna, Sting.....she's "Auntie". I can just picture it in lights now!

Oh, and they're going to make Shrinky Dinks. That will only further the rock star status. If she starts asking me to remove the red m&m's from a bowl, I may have to re-think her fabulous sissy status.

The other best thing about Auntie's house is because there is a fabulous uncle who always takes them out to the workshop to tinker with stuff. And there is a 14 year old, K., who likes to do their hair. And there's a 17 year old boy, J., who lets them jump on him. Plus they all(even uncle) like to watch Spongebob together.

It will be a perfect sleepover.

And it couldn't be more timely, since right now I might resort to selling them, we've had such a bad week. There's been lots of sister arguing & me yelling. Good thing they're going to Auntie's. I may pack extra clothes for extra sleepovers. Just kidding sissy! We'll get them on Sunday at church.