EEK!

The girls and I decided it was still hot enough after supper to drag out the sprinkler for 10 minutes.

That and the fact that for some reason they decided they just had to wear their swimsuits while they ate pizza for supper and the sprinkler sounded like a good way to pre-wash the pizza sauce off of Kayla.

Alaina offered to bring out towels for her and Kayla while I set up the sprinkler with Kayla. Alaina walked out with two towels. . .

And a SPIDER on her hand.If you don't know me, I'd rather sleep with a snake, than squish a spider. That's how much I HATE spiders. In our house, we have a dustbuster that has been dubbed the "bug-vac" and Alaina is always more than happy to run and vacuum up any bugs that enters the house. She's usually scolding the bug the entire time about how they shouldn't come into the house when mommy said they would be fine if they stayed outside.

I have no idea why the thought if spiders makes me tremble. So my reaction to seeing one on Alaina's hand was a bit . . . umm . . .Much?

And was it small? OH NO! This wolf spider had long spindly legs that stretched from one side of her hand to the other.

Here's a glimpse of my internal dialogue upon spying the spider.

Where on earth did that big brown streak on her hand come from? Oh, Shit! It's a spider! Did she see it? Where the hell did it come from? Calm down calm down! if you panic she panics! Do I point it out to her? No because she's walking down the concrete steps and she might panic and mis-step and hurt herself. Oh crap! Oh crap! Get it off of her? That's a wolf spider right? They aren't poisonous . . .I don't think. Oh crap, I don't know a black widow from a garden spider why would I know if it is poisonous or now. Your panicking, STOP PANICKING! OH jeez was this IN THE BATH TOWELS? Cripes just get it off of her! Grab something and get it off of her! What can I use. Too late! It's moving! Quick do something!

So I tried to quickly but gently swipe the spider off her hand.

And missed.

So it started to crawl up her arm.

Copy and repeat most of the above panic and I pretty much slapped the spider off of Alaina's arm the second time.

Alaina paused in whatever she had been talking about, the context of which I don't remember because I was too busy staring at the spider. I have no idea She looked at me if I was crazy and said.

"Mom. Did I have a spider on my hand?"

YES! Oh my GAWD it was huge! LOOK AT IT! ITS RIGHT THERE! KILL IT KILL IT!

Is what I was thinking. But in reality I put on my best 'mommy is calm' face and said,

Yep! But he's off now.

"Ohhh its big Mommy! I'm going to stomp on it."

No. Don't do that dear. Its outside and spiders eat nasty bugs so leave him alone.

And she did.

So I guess I must be doing okay in not reinforcing the "Girl sees bug and goes EEK!" Stereotype with Alaina.

And Kayla?

Kayla is probably going to be an entomologist. Because as I'm picking up the sprinkler to put it away, she is down on her hand and knees with her nose in the grass.

Blowing on the back of a huge cricket to make it jump.

And GIGGLING the entire time she's doing it.

I can't decide if I'm more proud or terrified.

Check this site out . . .

If anyone ever asks me why I didn't have any 'artsy' photos for my wedding or why I didn't have any professional pregnancy photos taken . . . .

I'm sending them to this site.

http://youarenotaphotographer.com

Towanda!

500 Stanley nickels if you can name that film.

And a thousand Shrutt buck if you know the value of a Stanley nickel.

Yes Missy! I actually did it!

I scolded someone for taking my parking spot!

Yesterday Jeff and I decided we needed to go bed shopping so we headed for the mall because I've been wanting to look at Sleep Number beds. As I was circling the lot, someone was getting into their car 2 spots from the door (Hooray!) so I backed up to give them plenty of room and turned my blinker on to signal my intent to park.

As they were pulling out, Snotty Suzie, as I'll call her, came whipping around the end of the aisle and almost read ended the car that was backing up. Sensing immediately what was going to happen, I looked at Jeff and said, "Oh no, she is NOT going to take my spot!"

But, Oh yes, she did.

If it would have been the holidays, I would have chalked it up to the parking lot crazies and moved on. But this happened on a Thursday at noon.

So much to Jeff's dismay, I laid on the horn, pulled up behind her, rolled down the passenger side window and yelled in my best stern/angry/scolding parent voice.

"DID YOU NOT SEE ME?!?"

Psycho Suzie conveniently had her window down, so she heard me and leaned out and with shocked confusion said, "Excuse me?"

"I was waiting for that spot! How did you NOT see me?"

The wretched hose-beast Suzie (see how her status is declining?) had the balls to say, "But you were parked!"

I was not PARKED. I had my BLINKER on and was WAITING patiently for THAT spot! Were you NOT paying attention?

Sphincter Suzie is beginning to get embarrassed by now and says, "Fine I'll move . . . "

But I'm quick to cut her off as I see a spot open up 4 stalls down, "NO, don't bother! Just PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT YOU'RE DOING!!!!"

Sh*thead Suzie is lucky I didn't bother to note what she looked like other than her dark hair and ugly sunglasses. I was formulating a second verbal assault but she was smart enough to high tail it to the anonymity that is the mall food court, so she avoided my wrath.

And did you catch the fact that I was driving and Jeff was with me?

Yep, my poor husband was trapped in the passenger seat while Towanda yelled across him at Scum-of-the-earth Suzie.

A thousand apologies, honey, and thanks for walking into the mall with me while I scanned the food court like a vulture scours the desert for its next victim. The next victim happened to be the guys at the Sleep Number store, but again I'll save that for another day . . . .

Now I want to talk about 2 books the girls and I found yesterday.

Book One:

When I was in elementary school, I used to repeatedly check out one specific Mythology book from the library. It was old, gray, and the title, "Mythology" was barely legible on the cover.

After they decided to close my school when I was a junior (booooo), they were selling off a bunch of items at an auction and my dad asked me what I might want from the school.

That Mythology book was the only thing I could think of to request. Sadly, they had already moved the library to the school we merged with, but that didn't stop me from fantasizing about breaking into the school to steal a children's library book.

Flash forward to yesterday.

The girls and I walked to Barnes and Noble to use a coupon I received in my email. While they were hugging all of the stuffed animal, (because why else do you go to a book store?) I spotted this book on a Mythology display next to the stuffed animals.

The illustration on the cover looked very similar to the ones from the book I had poured over for hours at a time when I was 11, so I picked it up and flipped it open.

And almost cried.

Because in my hand I held the holy grail. It was not just similar to the book I remembered, it WAS the book!

I now have my very own copy of my favorite book from the Trumbull library. And while I would still risk a hefty library fine to possess the exact copy with the faded gray cover, I can now flip through and look at all the drawings that I poured over as a child whenever I feel like a trip down memory lane.

This was one of my favorite illustrations. (Please excuse the poor photographs, I have no talent for lighting and a poor camera that doesn't help the situation.)

This is Narcissus, entranced by the beauty of his own reflection. In the background you can see Echo, who has fallen in love with Narcissus and is repeating all the loving phrases that he is saying to his own reflection.

All of the illustrations are clever and wonderful in this book and so very 1960s that they make me simultaneously laugh, smile and cringe.

On to book number 2:

But because my girls love books and since I love to sew costumes for Halloween, we bought the new Fancy Nancy Halloween book.

We sat down to read it for our bedtime story after bathtime, and while I'm sure the girls enjoyed it, I was a bit disappointed. Something wasn't quite right. Nancy wasn't being her usual Fancy-self.

Here's how Nancy usually sounds.

Nancy always remembers to point out the Fancy words as she says them. But in this new book?


How the heck are the girls supposed to know what Fuchsia is fancy for?!? Something is terribly wrong in the world of Fancy. I didn't pre-read the book like I usually do it stores, because Nancy has never disappointed me before.

After I finished reading the story, I shut the book and noticed the problem immediately. Do you see those five evil words listed before my beloved Author's name?

Ack!

What happened, Jane? Did you sell out? How dare you let Nancy's name be put on this ignominious excuse of a story!

(Ignominious is a fancy word for Lame)

Shame on you, Jane.

Shame on you.

Because I'm tired

Today was full of fun things to write about, but I'm just too tired so I bring you a picture show that a comment from my cousin prompted me to post. . . .

25 years ago when my hometown turned 100, my sister and I were in the small hometown parade, dressed as little pioneer girls, pushing our baby buggies down the street.

Check out our totally period appropriate buggies!


I wish this picture showed a bit more of our faces, because this is a picture from our 125 year parade celebration in my hometown.


Mimi pulled our skirts out of the cedar chest so that everyone could stop us for the next 2 months to mention how they remembered Stacey and I doing the same thing.


Of course since Stacey was the chaperone for my girls, she had to deal with being called Katie all weekend, but so goes the life of a twin.

And for comparison's sake, here's a photo of me from back in the day. . .

Maybe tomorrow I'll have enough energy to post about scolding a woman today for stealing my parking spot.

Belated Post

First I must give a shout out to my brother who had a birthday yesterday.

Who would have guessed that the way to two little girls' hearts is to take them fishing, let them terrorize you, and call them "Turbo."*

*Results are only guaranteed if you are Alaina and Kayla's "Uncle Scott."

Happy Birthday, remember that on this day all the offenses you've committed over the years are forgiven. But since, your birthday was yesterday, all bets are off.

And now for my random thought of the day, because I can't quite figure out what to type about yesterday's teacher curriculum meeting yet.

Everyone, meet my Dad. . .AKA Farmer Dave/Disco Dave, Preach, or Papa.

Hi Papa!

Dad has a small cattle farm, where, last I knew, he had about 40 -60 head of cattle. Having cows, means that our main source or protein in life was beef.

And I do love beef.

Yesterday, I was pondering the eating habits of my family and suddenly had a panicky thought. . .
"WHAT IF ONE OF MY KIDS BECOMES A VEGETARIAN?"

Now for most people, this thought would not instigate panic. But for the daughter of Farmer Dave, who grew up knowing that nothing tastes better than Sunday roast with potatoes?

I got a little queasy. Sure I can cook vegetarian meals, I do it often for friends who have opted for a "greener" lifestyle. By a meat-less life is not a life for me.

So girls, when you hit your teenage years and start to rebel against everything that I love, including red meat, just know this . . . . .

The day you stop eating red meat is the day you start cooking ALL the family meals.

P.S. - Notice I don't mention pork or chicken? Frankly I could live without either of those as long as I could keep beef and have Turkey on thanksgiving.

What did I forget?

In the midst of my deviation from my regularly scheduled hormones, it appears that I've neglected to mention something rather important. I was stalking-slash-browsing one of my favorite blog sites and she mentioned that she had a "bad ear."

Ooooo! I thought. I can sympathize with that! So I asked her a bunch of invasive questions (which I love to do, so if you need and idea for a blog entry, Katie to the rescue!) and thought I might for once refer to my blog in a comment . . .

Only to realize that I never actually shared the news that I've got hearing aides.

Yep! And not just any hearing aides. OLD PEOPLE hearing aides. You know, those big klunkers that stick halfway out your ear canals. And while everyone gives me a sad little look when they hear about getting hearing aides, I tell them there's no need to feel sorry for me . . . .

BECAUSE THESE THINGS ARE FABULOUS!

Have you ever been in the next room and heard your phone ring and just know that you aren't going to get to it in time. That NEVER happened to me because I couldn't hear my phone in THE NEXT ROOM! And I can actually hear my kids talking to me in the van now.

So I'm ALL about the hearing aides. Ghetto old person style or Jack Bauer secret service style.

And then a little feel good moment for me. I don't get a lot of time to sit down and sew, so I'm pleased as punch that I managed to take a few hours to get this put together.

My pretty little 1920s/30s apron. I copied the pattern from a vintage pattern that was in my college costume shop because I loved it so much. And what's not to love? Eat your heart out skimpy little 50s aprons! You got nothin' on my classy gal! Nothing is going to stain my clothes with this apron on the job!

And don't you love how it practically matches my bedroom walls? Maybe it should double as lingerie . . . .

or not. : )

Creating Common Sense

This week my hero at my office retired. Which was rather unexpected as the lucky lady is years shy of 50 and doing it by choice. I'm still pretty shocked because I'd always imagined I'd get to work with her as a direct report again later on down the line, but how can you not be excited when someone gets to happily retire early?

I want to be just like her when I grow up.

At my job, everything is happening at once or as we like to call it annual planning. And as everyone else in the world already knows, just because one part of your life gets busy, the rest of your responsibilities don't sit peacefully and wait for you to have some free time. And since life always like to give me a bit more that I can comfortably chew and still stay on the sane side of a mental breakdown . . . the morning after the weepy/happy retirement party was Alaina's first day of school.

So as my mom did to me, Alaina was dressed in one of her favorite outfits, her hair was styled in a fancy style that I regretted starting about halfway through it, and she carried her pretty new back pack with her name written on the front.


And don't be thinking that I made this hair style up. Oh no! I bought a BOOK on how to do my little girls hair a few months ago because I was tired of being shown up by the teachers at Alaina's daycare. For some reason they loved styling her hair and she kept asking me to duplicate them the next morning.

School was a blast for Alaina no tears were shed by her, myself, or her dad, and a new stage of life is beginning. And I am SOOOO excited for her!

But as my house quieted down this evening and I was mopping the bathroom floor I began to ponder the great journey of parenting and the events to come. Actually I've started doing that a lot lately. But the things that I wonder about the most are the instructions of common sense. I'm sure I could find a book about teaching your children common sense, in fact I know they wrote two for college kids about what your mom/dad should have taught you, but even those are a little beyond what I'm concerned about.

Where is the list of things that you should make sure to teach your child before inflicting them on society? And I want to know when I should teach them those things. And should I keep a list of items that they aren't old enough to be taught yet so that I don't forget to teach it to them later?

This actually came about because I was thinking about learning how to mop the floor.

It seems simple right? Bucket + Soapy water / rag x scrubbing = clean floor.

But have you ever seen someone mop a floor that hasn't learned by trial and error? Let me tell you, it's pretty apparent when someone doesn't wring out the mop rag, used water that needed to be changed or didn't scrub the tile enough. But can you blame someone if they haven't moped enough floors to know better? And how do you go about correcting a behavior like that?

I'm about to tattle, but my husband isn't a pro at steam cleaning carpets. Oh sure, he's done it a few times. But the last time he did it the carpets were in a pretty sad state, and since they are unfortunately white, from the last owners mind you, he went over them three times.

Now when I steam the carpets, I use HOT water, minimal soap, and make sure to run over the carpet an extra time with the fresh water tank empty to suck out as much water as possible so the drying time after I clean is 12 hours or less.

After Jeff steamed the carpets? Drying time was 3 days in some spots. Unfortunately I was in the position of critiquing something that could be considered common sense. So I tried starting with the obvious and commented on the drying time.
Jeff was quick to point out that he, unlike me I guess, went over the carpet 3 times.
So I commented that the carpet was bubbling up in some spot. Which he has no defense for, other than how could you possibly tie it back to the cleaning? After all, it never did that when I clean the carpet.

So I waited.

Waited until the time was just right. AKA, the next time Jeff was steam cleaning to catch him in the act. It took a while, but I finally managed to catch him in the act. Apparently, Jeff wasn't familiar with the set up of the steam vac and how the trigger switch dispenses the water and you should release it to suck up the dirty water. I (not very subtlely) pointed that out to him and got an, "UH!" for me efforts. But the look on his face was enough to make that UH mean.

AND HOW THE HECK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT WHEN THIS THING DIDN'T HAVE AN INSTRUCTION BOOK!

And so these are the kinds of things that I wonder about teaching my kids. Gone are the days when your education can be measured by your knowledge of multiplication tables, state capitals, and president. Now you are expected to understand how to program all the electronic devices in your house with just your phone, stay up to date on the statuses of friends on facebook and twitter, and know all the local gossip before you've even talked to a person face to face in the morning.

How is a parent to keep up with common sense? Will my girls be mocked if I teach them how to cook, clean, and sew before they go to college? Do they get bragging rights if they are the only girls in their dorms who know how? Or will they just be weird?

And let me ask . . .did anyone teach you how to mop? steam clean a carpet? sew? What about ironing a dress shirt? Folding a fitted sheet? Pick out fresh produce?

I suppose rather than having to admit you don't know how to do a common sense task, you can just watch a video on YouTube these days.

But I bet I can still recall most of the state capitals faster than you can google them on your smart phone.