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Go Nigel, Go!
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Would You Like To Buy My Monkeys?
Jun
16
Hair
by Leslie
God smiled on me today. Just as I was checking the theme for this week’s photo hunt, my husband asked for a haircut. So, we had a little fun.
The first was an attempt at making a “G,” for Grimmett. Dave thinks it looks like the Internet Explorer Icon. I think it looks more like Pac Man. The second one? Well it’s just funny.
Jun
15
They Call Me…Um…
by Leslie
I’ve been walking around lately with an empty feeling, like there’s this hole in my soul. Last night, as I lay awake aching from the void, I think I finally realized what is missing.
I don’t have a nickname.
I’m a nicknamer - I give them to everyone I have strong feelings for. I love nicknames. I even did my senior seminar research in college on names and naming practices (which is an incredibly interesting topic, by the way. Just think about it. A nickname as simple as “Junior” carries a lot of weight with it; it immediately frames that person in relation to someone else. I mean, if we call our child “Sport” or “Champ,” what is that saying? Did we call them that because they exhibited those qualities? Is it because those are qualities we find desirable and, therefore, encourage? I’m starting to go overboard, but…anyway…)
Nicknames are relevant - they’re indicative of the perceptions and expectations others have of us. And I don’t have one.
I had one when I was a baby: Bumpers. Because when I was born, I was bumpy. The nickname faded with the bumps. Since then, I’ve lived without a nickname.
I attempted to nickname myself in junior high school: Pepperoni. It didn’t stick and I now realize that was a blessing in disguise.
I also realize that no nickname is probably better than a negative nickname. I’m thankful I wasn’t the one they called “Pork Balls” in high school. Still, I feel a little left out without a nickname.
Even my husband has struggled to nickname me. I call him Grim. (It’s short for Grimmett, our last name.) Unless we’re in bed. Then, I call him Neil Diamond. But, everyday, I call him Grim. He calls me Leslie. Just like everyone else calls me Leslie.
I’m concerned. Why am I so hard to nickname? Is it because I have no depth to my personality? What the hell is wrong with me? Why, for the love of God, will no one nickname me?!?!
So, Readers! Give me your nicknames! What is your nickname? Tell me about it. Then! Suggest a nickname for me. Here are a few I’ve been kicking around, just to get you started:
The Double-Freaking-Butt-Kick (inspired by Suzanne)
Dinky Doo
Grim-Ra
Smash Mouth (because I talk a lot of smack and trash or smash…sucka!)
Wedge
I am eagerly awaiting your responses, Secret Squirrels (that’s my nickname for you guys).
Edited to add: Julia has chimed in with some nickname suggestions. Here they are:
Cheese
Crazy Potato
Jun
13
Not A Baby Anymore
by Leslie
Julia started ballet and T-ball this week - her first 3-year old activities. Her Suzuki piano lessons begin tomorrow.
I’m beginning to realize that turning three is a pretty big deal.
Jules has been involved in activities since she was 3 months old - activities with names that begin with “Kinder” or are some variation of the word combination Mommy, Baby or Me. Whether she was swimming, tumbling or getting a jump start to learning, I was an integral part of the process. I was there, supporting her, guiding her and doing it with her. And it was grand. It was mothers and children, dancing, spinning, laughing, sharing, holding hands and celebrating life. But now, she is turning three and that has changed everything. She’s a strong enough swimmer that they don’t need me to get in the water with her. There isn’t room for me to stand with her on the field. My presence is no longer a benefit - it is a distraction.
My heart tore in two when I heard those words from the ballet teacher, “Parents! You are not allowed in the studio! Your presence is a distraction to the students. If you’d like to watch the class, there is a video camera running. You can watch the class on the television in the waiting room.” And so, seventeen parents rushed into the 12×12 waiting room, squeezing, pushing, and straining to see their princess on the little screen.
Julia wasn’t hard to find. She was the bouncy one. The one that, when the teacher walked around helping the kids get into their positions, walked after her, straightening arms and adjusting feet, too. The one that had to run out into the waiting room about fifteen minutes into the class to declare, “Mommy! I’m doing it! I’m doing ballet!” I was the parent who was crying.
She wasn’t hard to spot on the T-ball field either. She was the one that was forcing team members to wear her glove as a hat. The one that raised her arms over her head, bounced and yelled, “Good job,” to each of her friends as they took their turn at bat, rather than getting the ball. And she was the smallest one on the field. I was the parent on the sideline, taking pictures and reviewing the Spectator Code of Conduct they handed out to us at the start of practice.
A Spectator Code of Conduct.
Do you know why they have that? Because somewhere, sometime there was a spectator or spectators that broke each of the conduct rules, so they had to tell us, in print, that we aren’t allowed to scold our children for making mistakes or yell at the coaches or become violent.
The parents at 3-year old activities are not dancing. There is no spinning. We do not hold hands. Geez, I wish we would, though. I think letting go would be a whole lot easier if there were a warm hand to hold on to.
Jun
12
Flushed
by Leslie
Gus died today.
Who is Gus you ask? Gus was my trusty, rusty push lawnmower. He was a $99 Wal-Mart special - special being the operative word. I pushed him over countless miles of lawn and he cut it all without fail, until today.
Once the time of death was called and Gus was put to rest, we hopped in Stella (She’s my van. I sorta like to name things.) and drove to Lowe’s to purchase a replacement. Everyone had some input - Julia wanted a red one, Dave wanted one that was self-propelled and I wanted one that wouldn’t cost much money. We all won when we found Big Red.
Big Red is used, but new to us. His former owner callously bent his axle and then dumped him off to be fixed and never returned. Our Lowe’s store associate, Lyle, lovingly repaired Big Red and offered him to the friendliest family he could find for half the regular purchase price. And so, Big Red became Big Red Grimmett.
Before we could take Big Red home, I had to go to the potty. Dave was catatonic having succumbed to the lure of the John Deere lawn tractor section, so I grabbed Julia by the hand and marched to the bathroom. We slipped into a stall together and I sat down - last night’s buffalo wings were firing back on me. (Please know, dear readers, that I normally wouldn’t dream of doing a number two in a public restroom, but there were extenuating circumstances. I mean, buffalo wings are spicy. And unpredictably explosive.)
Then someone else entered the bathroom. She took up residence in the adjacent stall where she heard this:
“Mommy! You put your poop in the potty! Good job, Mommy. You did it! You pooped in the potty!”
Flush.
“Bye bye poopy! Bye bye…….uh oh. Mommy, that poopy didn’t go down.”
Flush.
“Bye poopy. Bye….Mommy? It still didn’t go down.”
Flush.
“Mommy, your poopy isn’t going down.”
Flush.
“That poopy is in pieces now.”
Flush.
“There it went!”
Then the woman left her stall and began washing her hands. This is what she heard next:
“All done, Mommy? Let’s go…..why do I have to wait? You’re all done, Mommy.”
Yeah.
At least the woman stifled her laughter until she left the bathroom, so I had the illusion of dignity.
Of course, that illusion was shattered the moment I published this post. Or maybe when I published the one about the can o’pee. Or the stinkers.
Jun
11
Pillow Talk
by Leslie
“I saw this canopy at the store today that I’d like to pick up-”
“You saw a can o’ pee? Wouldn’t that be stinky?”
“Not all pee is stinky. Mine smells like an ocean breeze.”
“Well, mine smells like a forest…if you peed in it.”
Jun
10
Listen, Do You Want To Know A Secret?
by Leslie
Okay, it’s becoming an addiction. Here’s my third video blog.
Jun
9
Shoes
by Leslie
She may be wearing princess shoes, but they’re filthy and so are her knees. That princess knows how to play.
Jun
8
Monday night, I was sitting in the hallway outside our bedroom, leaning against the wall, sniffling and staring out into space when Dave quietly slipped out of the room. He took two steps toward me and fell to his knees. I went to him and we sat there - knee to knee, forehead to forehead, clutching each other. I cried while he whispered, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Our three hour tag team effort to put Julia to bed was done. She had literally brought us to our knees.
After we pulled it all together, we went downstairs to formulate a plan to get our child under control. Admittedly, we felt a little stupid. Julia has always been a very well-behaved child. Sure, she disobeyed on occasion and made mistakes, but a time-out and a talking to put her right back on track. We hadn’t really planned for the day that time-outs quit working and she would question our authority so vehemently. We thought we had a few years before that was going to happen. We were naive idiots.
We discussed our options for discipline. The only thing we’d established before was that spanking was out of the question, but we were so distressed, we threw the option out on the table. We began weighing the pros and cons and quickly found that neither of us could do it. We just didn’t have it in us. So, we settled on a chart to inspire better behavior. We chose a daily picture chart of daisies that would hold a smilie or a frownie, based on her conduct. Experience had taught us that the only things we could use as leverage were popsicles. So, we made it simple: if she had more smilies than frownies, she was allowed to have popsicles. If she had more frownies - NO POPSICLES. We put it into practice the very next day.
After doling out two frownies, the power of the chart was tested.
Julia: Mommy, have a popsicle, please?
Me: No, you may not. You have too many frownies. You need some more smilies to get a popsicle.
Julia: More smilies?
Me: Yep. You could go pick up your toys in the dining room - that might get you a smilie.
Julia disappeared around the corner and returned a few moments later. She handed me a piece of paper. She had drawn smilies all over it.
Julia: Mommy, now have a popsicle?
“Ha! Ha! Nice try,” I thought. Actually, it was a very nice try. So nice, that it put a great deal of fear in me that my child is much smarter than I am. Already at not quite 3 years old.
After a full day of turmoil over the chart, we saw improvement. She was disturbed by getting frownies and began working to get smilies. Yesterday, she had a frownie-free day.
*lyric from Brand New Day by Van Morrison
Jun
7
One week ago, Julia busted into the bathroom while I was sitting on the toilet, marched up, poked me in the stomach and said, “Mom, you’re fat.”
It was more than an insult. It was a battle cry to signal the start of war.
Julia has entered a phase I call, “She’s mad as hell and she’s not going to take this anymore.” What is she mad about? I have no clue. Who is she mad at? Me. How does she express her anger? She calls me a jerk, blows raspberries in my face when I put her in time out and runs far, far away from me every chance she gets.
Like at the library on Tuesday. She ran from me. Screaming. At the top of her lungs. Grabbing and tossing books as she went. Knocking over the bicycle they’re giving away for the summer reading program. Laughing and yelling, “Mama’s a jerk!” After lunging and missing her three different times, I finally trapped her in a corner and swooped her up into my arms. We were leaving the library. To express her objection, she shrieked, “Help! My mommy’s hurting me! Help! Help!” Patrons came running…I don’t remember much after that. It’s been erased from my memory. By anger. And a twist of humiliation.
The past seven days have been an experiment in torture - a journey of pain that has led me to the edge of my sanity. As I stand, clutching the end of my rope and peer into madness, I find that it isn’t a dark abyss of terror. It’s more like standing at the top of a giant rainbow-colored corkscrew slide that spits you out into a sea of cotton candy. Pink cotton candy.
I kinda want to go down the slide.
But, I’m holding on in hopes that this is only a phase or that she’s simply possessed by Satan, which means that either time or an exorcism will straighten it all out.
Dave’s strong feeling is that she’s been hypnotized to rebel by Dee Snyder. What do you think?
Jun
6
I’m having a very bad day which makes this the perfect time to catch up on some tags I’ve been hit with. Filling out forms and focusing on others is better than spreading my ugliness around so, here I go with the fun facts and linky love.
First up: The Thinking Blogger Award.
Karly and JerseyGirl have bestowed this honor upon me, making me a three time award winner! You can’t see it, but I’m Cabbage Patching. And if I had any coordination whatsoever, I’d be doing The Running Man or a little JumpStyle. I am truly flattered. I’m not certain that I am deserving, but I’ll take it! Now, to fulfill my duty as a Thinking Blogger, here are five blogs that make me think:
Scribbit - Michelle is like June Cleaver with internet access. She’s an extremely organized and diligent blogger you can rely on for daily servings of food for thought.
The World According To Suz - If thinking = laughing, then this is the blog that’s been making me think the most, lately. I’m head over heels for this chick. If you aren’t reading her blog, you’re missing out.
Mom Blog - Amanda’s blog was the first blog I read on a regular basis. I feel like I know her. Regardless of topic, her writing is honest and real. You can’t help but love her.
This Simple Life - Toni offers advice like my mother - insightful yet so simple, you just can’t deny it. It’s like comfort food for your brain. She is down-to-earth and genuine, and wise beyond her years.
My Grimm Reality - Dave makes me think. Mostly about sex.
Next: Random/Interesting Facts About Me
Dana tagged me for 8 Random Facts About Me and Jen (when she was at Parenting Toddlers) tagged me with 10 Interesting Facts About Me. I’m going to compromise and give you 9.
- I’ve been on two honeymoons in my life - both to Niagara Falls.
- I once won a Budweiser T-shirt for being able to name the five fraggles from Fraggle Rock.
- I got a hickey at church camp in 1992.
- I had a foster sister for a while growing up. She was removed from our home after pushing me in front of a moving car.
- I failed the road test portion of my driver’s exam the first time I took it.
- I was kicked out of a State Park and banned from returning for one season for horseplay in a canoe.
- I had a huge crush on my high school biology teacher. His initials were BWH, so we called him the Big Wild Hunk. Mmm…he was foxy.
- I thought the song One on One by Hall & Oats was Why oh Why until just last week.
- I think House of 1000 Corpses is the freakiest movie ever made. I still have nightmares about Captain Spaulding. If I could do that memory eraser thing like they had in Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, I’d do it to get that freaking movie out of my head.
Finally, a meme with no name, courtesy of Daddy Forever.
INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:
1. Mom of 2 and Wife of 1
2. BlondeMomBlog
3. Holly’s Corner
4. Daddy Forever
5. My Mommy’s Place
Next select five people to tag:
1. Karly
2. Faith
3. Jenn in Holland
4. Mommy The Maid
5. JerseyGirl
What were you doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago, I was finishing up my junior year in college where I’d just been elected president of my sorority and made the monumental decision to change my major from neuroscience to speech communication…so, I was partying. Or sleeping.
What were you doing 1 year ago?
House hunting.
Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake Ice Cream
2. Crunch ‘N Munch
3. Tootsie Rolls
4. Wheat Thins
5. Anything with icing
Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
1. Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver
2. Good Morning Starshine by Oliver
3. Summer of ‘69 by Bryan Adams
4. Kiss Off by the Violent Femmes
5. Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Keep fresh flowers in my home
2. Electrolysis (Be gone chin hair!)
3. Buy Kraft Macaroni & Cheese instead of the generic brand
4. Enter Dave into the World Series Of Poker
5. Open my high class kitty kennel to fund my feline veterinary clinic, where I’d offer free spaying/neutering and adoption services
Five bad habits:
1. Cussing, dammit.
2. Rolling my eyes
3. Ignoring my husband while sucked into the vortex of my laptop
4. Interrupting
5. Loudly singing along to music everyone is enjoying, making up the words I don’t know
Five things you like doing:
1. My husband
2. Eating
3. Quoting awesome movies
4. Saying “badonkadonk”
5. Interpretive dance (My latest is to “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake.)
Five things you would never wear again:
1. Blue eye shadow
2. A Bikini
3. A tube top
4. Anything neon
5. Edible underwear
Five favorite toys:
1. My camera
2. My laptop
3. My Guitar Hero game
4. My Bulls-Eye Ball game
5. My lawn tractor
Whew!
Are you still here?
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I Write A Haiku Each Day
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Hurts So Good
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Categories
- Daily Haiku
- Mommy’s Stuff
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
