Saturday, November 27, 2010
I love my Poppa all day!
I eat my food all - This is a direct translation of "I ate all my food" from Portuguese.
Elise: Why you screaming Momma (in my defence, I wasn't screaming, just pleading with the car in front of me to actually use that thing known as a gas pedal and drive faster than 20 miles an hour)?
Me: Because some people just don't know how to drive
Elise: But Momma knows how to drive... you drive soooooo good!
hee hee... she's pretty smart!
What's that the noises? - Translation: What's that sound?
My nose is sweaty! - What she says when her nose is running
Me: Elise, you're a conundrum
Elise: I'm not a hockey player!
Me: Elise, you can't wear those crocs with that dress, they don't match
Elise: The point is, I get to wear my crocs.
Me: Elise, do you want to come with me to the mailbox to mail some letters"
Elise: Which ones Momma, B and D?
Poot taste - Toothpaste
Sticky Mouse - This is what she calls Mickey Mouse
Me: Elise, do you sometimes talk just to hear your own voice?
Elise: A little bit...
We were doing an alphabet puzzle, and for each letter I would ask her what words start with that letter, for example; the letter T, she would answer "toe". When I held up the letter J and asked her for a word, her reply was, "jay-jay"... which is what she calls a specific part of the female anatomy. Awesome. Can't wait until they cover the letter J in pre-school.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I'll bet you have people asking You, "what is up with (fill in the blank)" all the time. Like the platypus for example. I'm guessing You've taken Your fair share of ribbing on that one. Personally, I think the platypus is kinda cool; a downright funky animal. I only regret that I've never seen one in person.
But I really gotta ask You, why did You have to come up with pregnancy hormones; namely, the ones that make me crave weird things at odd hours of the night? It's not like being pregnant isn't hard enough, what with the nausea, the wild mood swings, and the getting bigger with the round ligament pain and things of that nature.
And let's not even mention the pain of child birth.
What I take issue with is the fact that I can be marching my shopping cart down a grocery store aisle, minding my own business and keeping to the exact letter of my shopping list when BAM! Out of nowhere, I spy a bag of marshmellows and think to myself, "how good would a roasted marshmellow be right now?"
Never mind that I'm nowhere near a campsite, and the fact that it's ten billion degrees out during this very pleasant (she said, sarcastically) Texas summer day. All I can think about is a white-melty-blob of high-fructose-corn-sugar-goodness. All rational thinking goes out the window and I toss the marshmellows into my cart.
Fast-forward a few hours later, and I now find myself in front of my stove, "roasting" a marshmellow over an electric burner on a wooden kabob skewer. And by "a" marshmellow, I mean 5.
Well, pregnancy cravings must happen for a reason, right God? At least that's what I'll keep telling myself as I'm double-fisting the candy corn.
Yours very hungrily,
Sunday, November 14, 2010
So Fred dropped Mattias and I off at home, and took Elise to see B. When she got home, I told Elise how proud I was, and how sweet it was of her to want to go see B in the hospital. Then I asked her why she had wanted to go.
Her response? "Because she was in the hospital!" But the kicker was what she added afterwards.
"She's sick and maybe lonely."
A pretty terrific moment in the midst off the terrible threes.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
There was always an assembly at school (usually the day before, since Remembrance Day was always a day off), marked by the reading of In Flanders Fields (see below), and the playing of Last Post. This was followed by two minutes of silence at 11:00 am (the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month), the time the Armistice of World War I was signed in 1918. To this day, the sound of a lone trumpet makes me want to bow my head and stand silent.
We wear poppies on our lapel to honour our veterans; a symbol of the famous poem In Flanders Fields which was written by a Canadian during WWI. To read more about the history of the poem, you can go here.
I thought it appropriate to post the poem today, in Remembrance of all who died so we could live free.
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Dear Person or Persons in charge of Daylight Savings Time,
Yes I know the time change was a few days ago so this may seem a little late. You see, it took a few days to put my thoughts down into writing because I've been wandering around my house trying to figure out WHAT BLOODY TIME IT IS.
It seems some of my clocks are smarter than me and change on their own. Some, my husband changed on Sunday. And others still display the "old" time. My problem is, I can't figure out which is which.
So, onto my issue with you. I hate the very concept of DST. It is, quite simply, a load of crap. I don't care that on some farm, in a far away land it makes the cows happy, or whatever bull you're touting, but it screws with my life and it must stop. And I don't appreciate the propaganda the news is spewing by telling me, "you gain and EXTRA hour!" That is pure crap to the highest degree.
We're onto you, yes we are. Who are we? We are the parents of children who cannot tell time, and ergo do not give a flip about your stinking time change. We are the parents of children who are now waking up a FULL HOUR EARLIER than normal now, because of a reason that no longer exists. My daughter has decided to add an extra half hour to that, because that's how she rolls.
An hour may not seem like a lot to you, but when your days are filled with house-cleaning, meal-preparing, blood-sugar-checking, insulin-shot-giving, child-rearing, errand-running, diaper-changing, laundry-washing and nose-wiping; and you do it all while suffering from the 500th consecutive bad hair day, AND quite certain you have poop smeared somewhere on your person (because why else is THAT SMELL following you around the house like the dog when she's hungry), well then, I would say an hour is HUGE.
So I am urging you, PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy... do away with DST. Or I shall be forced to hunt you down, find out where you live and start banging away on your bedroom window an hour before you usually get up. I will also knee you in the groin for the extra half hour. Because that is how I roll.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
I didn't realize it until I looked down to the lower right-hand corner of my computer and saw the date staring back at me; 11/7/2010. Mattias is two months old today!
I cannot believe how time has flown by, wasn't it just yesterday that he emerged from my belly, all red-faced and screaming? It seems like my cheeks should still be wet from the tears I shed when I first laid eyes on him.
What can I say about the littlest man in my life? For starters, he is incredible. He is about the easiest baby could ever ask for. Oh sure, at first we went through the adjustment stage, where all he wanted was to be held, but soon he seemed to figure it all out.
Lately he has been all smiles. They are the most beautiful gummy grins ever. This child seems to smile with his entire body, every part of him wiggles with pure joy. And did I mention that he slept through the night at 5 weeks?
Because I know you want to see them, here are some recent pics of my sweet baby boy:
Saturday, November 6, 2010
One of my favourite things to do was exchanging "What do you call a man with no arms and no legs" jokes with my brothers. For some reason, I find these hysterically funny. And for prosperity's sake, here are a few of the ones that will get a chuckle out of me every time:
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in the water?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs up on stage?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs laying under a car?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs hanging on a wall?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs laying in front of a door?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs being sent through the mail?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting on the beach?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in a pot on the stove?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting beside a hole?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in a hole?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs in the morning?
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs on the barbeque?
And quite possibly my absolute favourite:
What do you call a man with no arms and no legs sitting in a pile of leaves?