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Go Nigel, Go!
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Ahem.
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
Jun
27
It is 4 a.m. on the day of Julia’s 5th birthday party. I just finished her cake. This means I have been up all night working on it. And here it is.
I know. I KNOW. It has a lot of problems. I’m not even going to discuss them, because it is finished. FINISHED!
I would be embarrassed to tell you that it took me sixteen hours to make it, but I think that doing anything for a whole sixteen hours in a row is kind of an accomplishment. Or a sign of insanity.
It looks nothing like the cake I had planned. It turns out that I have a lot to learn about fondant. Also, our air conditioning failed and I discovered that everything I ever knew about buttercream frosting had changed, so this cake is kind of an against all odds sort of miracle confection.
It actually looks good from far away and, hopefully, in the eyes of my five year old.
Jun
24
The Five Interview
by Leslie
Today is Julia’s 5th birthday. And since I can’t seem to complete the sappy, weepy post I’d been working on, I thought I’d capture the moment with an interview with my birthday girl over breakfast.
Julia, what do you like most about yourself?
I like…hmmm…I like being five and, I don’t know, being myself.
What might you like to be when you grow up?
A princess or a firefighter.
What is your favorite thing to do?
Dress up and be like a princess.
What’s your favorite food?
Strawberries.
What’s your favorite song?
That’s a tough one. There’s so many favorite songs I like! Well, you know, Love Is A Battlefied. That one. Burning For You and Run Runaway. Those are the songs I’m telling you.
What was the best thing about being four?
Going to preschool.
What new things will you do now that you are five?
Go to Kindergarten and play with my new five birthday presents. And I’ll go to college soon.
What can you do really well?
Sing. I’m really good at singing.
What makes you feel proud?
Just being myself.
What makes you happy?
That I’m five. I just like being five. Being five feels really kind of good.
Jun
22
No, You’re Schmoopy!
by Leslie
Dave and I like to play this annoying little game of one-upmanship in which we each declare that we love the other more.
“I love you more!”
“No, I love YOU more!”
Well. Dave thinks it’s a game. I’m actually pretty serious about it. In fact, I have evidence in my favor.
Look at the picture.
Check out his body language. What is it saying? Let me show you.
I know. This means I am less loved. And it’s cold and lonely in the deep dark night. But it also means I am the winner. And winning is surprisingly warm, my friends.
Jun
19
Broken
by Leslie
Every time I take one of the girls to our family doctor for any reason other than a regular check up, he waves his hands at me and says, “Bah! You worry too much!” EVERY TIME. Except this time. This time, he pulled out his cell phone and asked, “What’s your cell phone number?” and entered it into this phone. I knew then that I probably hadn’t even begun to worry enough.
“I’m going to send you to the hospital for x-rays. If it’s bad news, they’ll probably have you hang around…but I’ll call you with the results.”
So, we went to the hospital and had the x-rays and they had us hang around. And I thought, It’s bad news. But then, a nurse came out and told us we could leave and the doctor would call us. And I thought, The news can’t be that bad! But then the doctor called and said he was referring us to a specialist that was going to fit us in that afternoon. And I thought, This news could be really, really bad. Then, the specialist was called into emergency surgery and we were given an appointment for the next day. And I had a complete emotional breakdown.
It had all started with a thud. It was a thud like any other. If anything, it was less of a thud than the usual thud that comes from one of Lucy’s tumbles. It wasn’t even really a tumble. Just a little misstep. One moment she was toddling behind her sister toot tooting like a train and the next, she was on her back.
She lay there for a moment.
“You okay, Lucy Bear?” I asked from across the room, expecting my words to stir her to get up.
That’s when the tears started. I walked over, picked her up and cuddled her while feeling her head for a bump. (You gotta worry about the head since that’s where the brain is and all.) But her head was fine. It was her leg that was broken. Of course, we didn’t know that right away. We didn’t even know it the next day after spending it at our family doctor’s office and the hospital. We learned it this morning when we finally landed in the orthopedic specialist’s office and he said, “Well, it’s broken.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Really,” he said firmly. “See the tibia and fibula?” He pointed to the fracture on the x-ray.
I started to cry. I’m not sure why. The worst was over. The injury had happened. From this point on, Lucy was only going to feel better. Still, I cried.
They put a hot pink cast on her leg. (Julia picked the color.) The doctor said she won’t be able to walk in it because of the way he positioned her foot. He says she’ll revert to crawling and likely have to start all over on the walking front when the cast comes off in a month or so. As upsetting as that is, today I don’t mind that she can’t walk. All I want to do is hold her anyway.
Jun
14
How To Make A Tire Swing
by Leslie
Items Needed: A tire. A strong rope. A tree.
Step 1: Drill holes in the bottom of your tire to prevent water from gathering and making it all gross when it rains.
Step 2: Take the tire to the car wash to clean it with a high pressure hose. Also to justify the trip to the ice cream parlor next door.
Step 3: Use a ladder to reach a sturdy tree branch and tie the rope to the branch.
Step 4: Realize that your ladder is a lot taller than it looks when you actually climb up it and that the branch is really high.
Step 5: Put the ladder away.
Step 6: Concoct a brilliant plan in which you place a softball in a sock, tie it to the end of the rope and toss it over the branch.
Step 7: Enlist help from someone that can actually throw.
Step 8: Tie a slip knot and pull it until it reaches the branch. You will have a double rope of unequal size.
Step 9: Tie the rope around the tire using a square knot.
Step 10: Discover that knots are really hard to tie.
Step 11: Go inside and Google How To Tie A Square Knot.
Step 12: Attach the tire using the rope with a whole bunch of the knots you know how to make.
Step 13: Have the heaviest member of your family test the swing to insure its strength. You may not want to tell them that their weight is the reason they were chosen.
Step 14: Untie all those knots and hike the tire a little higher up that rope. Make sure your drill holes are at the bottom. Repeat steps 9 through 13.
Step 15: Let your impatient kid swing, already. You can cut off the excess rope later when her leg gets tangled in it and she falls and gets hurt.
Step 16: Pat yourself on the back and admire your handiwork from the street, just like the neighbors will.
Jun
11
It Turns Out That A Glue Gun And A Dream Don’t Equip One To Do Nearly As Much As One Would Hope
by Leslie
I’ve been channeling Charlie Brown. Everything I touch gets ruined!
For two days, I’ve been trying to create Julia’s 5th birthday invitations. If I were smart or sane, I would have purchased the ready-made you-fill-in-the-blank invitations and got writing - or even better - got Julia writing. But I am dumb and crazy. I thought it would be BRILLIANT to make our own invitations, you know, to save time and money, and generally, BE AWESOME. Now, twelve hours and $12 in, I am not feeling awesome.
They’re pretty much done and they look like this.
The tulle dodads are supposed to be fairy wings. They look like bows, but WHATEVER. Try making little fairy wings. It’s hard, yo.
Notice how we went with the yellow, green and purple sort of theme colors? That’s kind of magnificent, right?
The map is on the back of the invitation. I could have just added, “Wear your play clothes, bring your bathing suit and come hungry,” on the invitation, but I like to make things challenging. Like a riddle or something.
We added R.S.V.P. postcards (which I will add postage to on Day 3 of The Great Invitation Challenge) because many of the people I invite to stuff never call or e-mail to say whether or not they’re coming. And then, I have to pick up the phone to call them, which pretty much is the last thing on earth I ever want to do. So, postcards. I addressed them to Julia and made them all letter-like to her to insure that the event is well-attended. Because who’s gonna decline that invitation? Dear Small Child, I am not coming to your party. Signed, Brutal Heart-Crushing Meanie. P.S. Santa isn’t real.
They may not be fancy, but they should be effective.
Jun
8
The Mark Of The Beast
by Leslie
I was lying in the yard flying Lucy like an airplane when our cat Ruby approached.
Ruby was dumped off at our place last year. Initially we thought Ruby was a girl. Then he grew some testicles. We tried changing his name to something a little more masculine, but it was too late. Ruby was Ruby. And sometimes, Ruby The Boobie. Because Ruby is dumb. I think Ruby is also angry. There’s something about the way he keeps screwing other cats right on my front porch that makes me believe he’s got something to prove. He’s like, “Look at this! I’m ALL MALE, bitches! Check out my BOY PARTS, you stupid humans!”
Anyhoo.
I sat up when I saw Ruby coming and said, “Hey Ruby!” extending an arm to pet him. I don’t know, it must have been the last straw, like, “Call me Ruby one more time and see what happens,” because the little fucker PEED ON ME. He sprayed the right side of my body from hip to shoulder.
I.Was.Livid.
I started screaming. I scrambled to my feet. I ran at the cat. I wanted to scream nasty things at him, but the kids were watching. So, I just lunged at him and yelled, “YOU! ARE! NOT!!!! MY! FAVORITE!!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
I stormed into the house, tossed Lucy to Dave and went to the bathroom to scrub the pee off. You know what? When a cat pees on you, no matter how much or how hard you scrub, you never feel like you get it all off. Even two days later. It’s like being burned with acid. It’s demeaning as well as painful and it scars you for life.
Jun
5
Every week day, Julia writes a page for her journal. This pretty much consists of copying her name in upper and lowercase letters as well as some other words I choose. Sometimes she’ll draw a picture, too.
Notice the I love my mom at the bottom of that page? She added that on her own. Sweet, right?
Well, that was yesterday, Foreigner.
This morning, she woke up in a bad mood and was trying hard to get under my skin. I must have been doing a good job hiding how well it was working, because she brought out the big guns and said, “Mom, remember that time I called you FAT and YOU CRIED and I said I’d never call you FAT again? I just want you to know, I’m never going to call you FAT again. I am not going to say that word FAT to you ever again.”
Suddenly I couldn’t stop hearing The Knights Who Say Ni in my head.
I didn’t dignify her efforts to destroy me with a response. I just gave her a journal page to complete.
I shared this with Dave as I was obviously pleased with myself for A) not yelling, B) not crying and C) being so smart.
He said, “So, now, not only can she say it, she can write it.”
“Uhhh, yeah.”
“Good work, honey.”
And now I’m off to find a shrubbery.
Jun
2
Call It A Curse Or Consequence
by Leslie
I got a speeding ticket yesterday. For some reason, when I tell people this, they laugh. And I guess it’s funny. I had it coming. But laughing at someone when they get a speeding ticket is like watching that video from The Ring that makes you die seven days later, just without the death, and instead, speeding tickets. So, don’t! laugh! or seven days! I’m just sayin’.
I received a citation for going 69 in a 55 MPH zone and must pay $115.
It could’ve been worse. I could have been caught going faster. I could have been reprimanded for not having my current insurance card with me. Or my current registration. Also, a current driver’s license. I’m still driving with my West Virginia license. My license isn’t expired or anything. But I’ve been living in Ohio nearly three years and you’re supposed to transfer your license within thirty days of your move. So, like I said, it could have been worse. It seems that I am very lucky. Or blessed by the Baby Jesus. Or sexy enough to hypnotize a cop with my black magic woman eyes.
The kids were with me, of course. Thankfully, Lucy was snoozing in her car seat. Julia witnessed the whole thing, which means she can relay the ordeal with stunning accuracy to anyone that will listen. Just ask the cashier at Dollar General. Initially, she was worried that they were going to take me to jail. Also, that the officer’s uniform wasn’t blue. Because wearing the wrong color is just as disturbing as seeing your mama sent to the hoosegow. But, it turned out alright and she learned that mommies have to follow rules, too. I learned never to laugh at someone getting a speeding ticket again, lest I be cursed with one of my own.
Just so you know, the only way to undo the jinxy voodoo death curse in The Ring was to make a copy of the tape, so if you laughed at me, you might want to Stumble this post or e-mail to a friend or something. Or SEVEN DAYS!
Jun
1
Two Girls, One Big Day
by Leslie
Yesterday, Julia performed Lightly Row in her piano recital…
…while Lucy took her first steps out in the hallway, Dave claims. He was the sole witness, which he says is the payoff for always being the one to remove her from all the recitals, graduations and award ceremonies we got to when she gets fussy.
It sounds shady to me. So, we’re calling these…
…her first steps.
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