A Poem

Mom, You Are Meaner Than You Think You Are

"Mom, you are meaner than you think you are!"
screamed my beautiful four-year-old daughter,
seemingly out of the blue.

Maybe it was the outfit I wouldn't buy (hideous)
Or more probably,
Turning down cupcake number two.

Maybe it was all the scolding
About taking off sand-loaded shoes.
In the house, the car, the dance studio,
So much sand does this little girl ooze.

Maybe it was beyond sassy attitude,
or craved i pod and pierced ears.
So many things that wouldn't fly.
Or the rush for makeup, nail polish, cell phone.
So many things I am not ready to buy.

Maybe she knows I am wishing she won't grow up just yet,
That will have to wait a least a year or two.
So to my four-year-old daughter I said,
"Come hug the mean, old mother of you."

Some Questions I Have

1) Is Girl Scout Cookie season over yet? I hope so crunch, crunch.

2) Does anyone else have a gas tank that keeps moving to the other side of their car? That is pretty annoying.

3)What the hell is a super delegate? Are they getting swag?

4) Why does my cat prefer dog food and my dog prefer cat food?

5) Why do I wonder why my daughters room looks like this:

when my visiting parents see her room, they both say it reminds them of when I was little?

6)Are little boys allergic to pairs of socks?

7) Why have I been at the age where all the clothes for women look too young or too old? And I have been at this stage for YEARS?

8) How long does it take to properly train a husband?

9) How many cool people am I going to meet blogging? So many funny blogs, so little time.

10) I forgot my last question. Must have that stay-at-home-momheimers that someone was telling me about. Who was that again?

A Morning in the Life

6:20 am
Dear 9 year old son at my bedside "Mom, where are some boxes? I am putting all my favorite movies together and I need a box this big." Stretches his hands out.

Me (half asleep): "Huh?"

6:40 am
Click! Dear 9 year old son is back. "Mom, don't move. I am trying to take a picture of the cat."

Me (in denial): "Why don't you get ready for school?"

Dear Son: "WHAT??!!! I thought it was Saturday. This is the worst day of my life!"

7:30 am

In kitchen. 9 year old dear son seems to have recovered from the worst day in his life:

"Mom, you know why I like you? You are smart and you have lots of great ideas."

Husband: "What about me son? I am pretty smart too."

Dear Son: "Well, you are kinda smart Dad. You just don't like to show it."

7:45 am

Dear 4 year old daughter shows up for breakfast. She had been a little nervous about having a new babysitter the previous night.

Me: "So, how did it go with the new sitter last night?"

Dear Daughter:"Oh, it was great mom. She was no trouble at all."

7:50 am

Dear 6 yo son sits up to eat breakfast: "What? I have to eat pancakes? This is the worst day of my life!" A few seconds later... "Mom, I need a strip of carpet."

Me: "Huh?"

Dear Son shows me his science book he checked out at the library and it indeed says "strip of carpet" for an experiment in friction and velocity.

Mutter to myself : "I guess I need to put crawl around in attic and find the extra pieces of carpet on my list."

8:00 am

Dear Daughter comes down dressed for school: red and black plaid dress, purple cheetah coat with belt, brown and white tights, pink glitter ballet flats and hot pink suede pageboy hat.

8:10 am

Husband: "Well, we're off. Have a great day honey."

Me: "Huh?"

Ballet, Girls and Balls

My 4 year old daughter started ballet a few months ago. I am a reformed tomboy, so the art is out of my scope of knowledge. She tells me what she needs (shoes, wraps, leg warmers, etc.) and I figure out how to get the required items. She has an impressive attention span for her age. I watch her class and she is dialed in to the teacher's every command. Why I can't even get her to clean up her room for 5 minutes is beyond me. She can execute complicated ballet moves in a studio filled with kinda-not-paying-attention-little-ballerinas.



The other day she ran in and said "Come look mom! Wilbur (the cat) is doing a tendu!" I asked the child what in the world is a tendu was. She showed me- it is when you have your toe pointed and leg straight. I rush in to see the ballet performing cat and there he is on the carpet, licking his balls.



Now, this is a funny moment for sure. And heck, his leg was straight and he was pointing his toes. I have been designing tee shirts for precocious little girls. What a funny cartoon I could draw of this..... But I concluded I would better have a chance of selling a shirt with a cat licking his balls with a ballet reference to a guy, than the same to a little ballerina or her mother.



Such is life for me........................... :)

One big step for woman, one small step for womankind

OK, I am doing a blog. Why? My friend Hayley told me to that is why! People are going to read this? I am still grasping the very concept. I have participated in online discussion boards for several years now. This seemingly one-sided conversation is outside my comfort zone. But I figure it is cheap therapy and maybe a way to let my hair down. That's right- I can't let my hair down, because it has been Kramertized by chemotherapy. More on that later.

Today I almost had to do yoga. It is raining. I usually take the two dogs for an hour hike every day. Built-in upper body workout, as the two dogs weigh close to 200 pounds, and so do I by the way. Need to be more of a "master" as Cesar Milan would say. But I would miss the hour of semi-restraining the two beasts. So we lumber around the neighborhood, not perfect, but perfectly happy in our own way. Anyway, I almost had to break out the yoga mat when the sun broke through after lunch. I may even make it all winter without having to do the dirty deed that is yoga, that everyone seems to like except me.

Tonight my oldest child is in his school talent show. I have seen the auditions and the dress rehearsal and I can honestly say that elementary kids should not be holding talent shows. They just aren't very talented! Boo hiss, bad mommy. I am I am! I find it hard to not suppress a smirk when the group of boys play "We will, we will rock you!" with a few beeps and honks out of tune. I am not even going to mention the girl who spent more time picking up her batons than not. I guess I am sensitive to my own child's "comedy act". The kids were laughing. I guess I need to lighten up.

OK enough bitching! I feel better already. Now I am off to contemplate what "my favorite salad" is so I can make it for the pot luck tonight......................