Posts Tagged ‘antics’

Tormenting our kids..

December 2, 2008

…is a duty and a privilege. The latest elaborate prank on Joseph involved the ongoing meme of Joseph’s hatred for Buzz Lightyear, who in younger and kinder years was a treasured friend to the boy. James has collected his related paraphernalia, in particular anything depicting Evil Emperor Zurg. At one point James made Joseph a Star Wars CD and, awful man that he is, made the first track Zurg’s Planet. Joseph was, erm, indignant to say the least.

So anyway, James has got a couple Zurg figurines on his desk; half to piss Joseph off, half in defiance of his growing up (whose, you ask? Good question..). James started his prank by putting this through the mail slot:

(Yes, it’s taken me a while to post this). Joseph, having failed to notice in his excitement that it’s written on my note paper and that it’s quite obviously James’ handwriting, asked if he could call the number. He called the ‘courier’ and had a very sweet and polite conversation about his parcel. I would have gotten all sniffly at the cuteness if I wasn’t trying so hard not to laugh. Joseph got off the phone and said the parcel would be coming tomorrow. Then James ran around the side of the house and phoned Joseph back.

He told Joseph that a courier was in the area and would drop the parcel by shortly. A couple minutes later, James dropped a parcel on the step, rang the bell, then booked it for the back door. While Joseph was getting the door, he slipped back upstairs to his office.

Joseph happily trotted back inside with his parcel and opened it up.

The letter read something along the lines of, “We hope you will enjoy playing with your new Zurg action figure. Regards, the Evil Emperor Zurg Corporation.” Joseph was confused, but after a nano second or two of thought started to smell a rat. He ran upstairs and demanded to see James’ Evil Emperor Zurgs.

James showed Joseph his miniature straightaway, and blandly told Joseph that he’s only ever had the one. Joseph was fairly convinced that he’d been had but as James is such a good bullsh*tter, was not quite sure. Nyssa took the opportunity to steal James’ computer and laugh derisively.

Joseph did manage to get revenge. A few weeks later he found the most hideous Jar Jar Binks hand puppet at a charity sale. He bought it, boxed it up as though it were a work-related parcel and had it ‘sent’ to a horrified James. Hehe.

Well done Joseph. It’s good to know we’re teaching, uhh, valuable skills.


Photos from the last week

April 9, 2008

A typical evening, involving the couch and cute people.

I build dresser, I arrange dresser in kitchen, 5 minutes elapse, Mittens claims a new bed.

We were invited to the Isle of Wight this weekend for a stag/hen night(that would be bachelor/ette party, yankees) alternative. It didn’t take long for me to start cheating on my cats.

Joseph across the street from the house we stayed in.

Children in trees at Robin Hill Adventure Park

Hillbilly Slide?! A slur against my people, to be sure.

Joseph trying to use the fabric of his coat to gain speed.

Nyny slidin’ it Alabama style.

A water-squirting feature in a British park in April. Why exactly?

Springtime, one female duck, two males. I’m not sure what we saw was suitable for, well, anyone. Edit: Oh yeah, forgot to mention how amusingly blase the kids are about this sort of thing. Nyssa asked Joseph what they were doing, and he replied, ‘Well, that’s a female and those are males. They’re probably going to have sex.’ Hehe.

Our first go at the Toboggan Run. Joseph took the ‘slow’ signs *really* seriously, and thought that the exclamation points were instructing him to come to a complete stop. Nyssa and I caught up with him just hanging out. He slowed up people so effectively that he got everyone a free ride.

Second time around, they were booking it. Also helps to have Nyn set the pace..

The essential Joseph and Nyssa: somewhat abashed and somewhat diva. OK, no ‘somewhat’ on that latter one.

A cute water toy whatsit that the kids played on after deciding the swinging boat ride of vomit induction would be a bit much.

A gorgeous, gorgeous bird at a falconry display. Reminds me of my dad’s amazing bespoke fiddle with the eagle head for the scroll.

Falconer demonstrating how his naughty bird won’t let go of his treat. Dude was an awesome Scotsman who ranted about how much better Americans are because they won’t just hand over birds to any idiot who fancies taking up falconry, unlike the British apparently.

An interesting zoo alternative.

What, I liked the driftwood. Rather a lot it seems.

A freaking wendy house (playhouse) village. It just can’t get better. Well, I wouldn’t have thought. My kids are spoilt.

I recently got my DS. Set it up to play movies and mp3s, browse the internet, do irc, and other myriad grownupy functions. The kids have pretty much commandeered it. At least they look cute doing it.

This is one seriously good looking boy in his black button-down shirt and trendy jeans. The shy smile just makes him irresistable. Don’t you think?

Nyssa had a successful spare change hunt.

To get to one part of town to another on the Isle, we had to make use of the ‘floating bridge.’ No worries in case of fire–the bridge comes fully equipped with a bucket.

This was sorta funny. Over here it’s very trendy to wear vintagey t-shirts from US locations, whether real or made up, particularly of universities. As Nyssa is the socially capable one when she’s in the mood, I dared her for a quid to go ask Dude if he was actually from Idaho Falls. Haha, he was not.

On the ferry back to Southampton, to catch our long-ass train back to Kirkcaldy.

It was a quintessentially british holiday. Gorgeous weather for two days, hail and snow the next two.

At midnight or so last night we finally crawled through the front door. James of course was already home, having had a flight home. Stoopy job perks 😛

Oatso funny

March 29, 2008

Nyssa’s sense of humor is coming along nicely. To backtrack a little, a couple weeks ago I got sick of the kids continually getting cheerios all over the floor and threatened them with a week of oatmeal if it persisted. They must not have taken me seriously (they should know better by now I would think) because, sure enough, cheerios everywhere. So I enacted the sentence and to add insult to injury made them eat the baby porridge that you have to reconstitute. Sounds sadistic? I blame my dad and the Fishstick Punishment of ’93. Anyway, yesterday I took Nyssa to McDonalds to reward her for coming to the vet with me. Yeah, I know, but it’s the only place on the high street that does proper (well..) milkshakes, and she was yearning for one. Here we are also subjected to McDonalds Monopoly, and she got a sticker to peel on her cup. She was an instant winner–of a free bowl of Oatso Simple Porridge. Apparently British people consider that a prize and not, you know, an act of cruelty. Nyssa got the brilliant idea of taking it home, acting all excited and going on and on about winning a wonderful prize but wanting to give it to her beloved brother. The deflated look on his face upon reading his ‘prize’ was excellent.

Another Nyssa food-related funny–she came running to me the other day after a dinner of pasta and vegetarian ‘scampi’ exclaiming, ‘Mum I LOVE the pasta and scabs you made for dinner!’

Oh oh, I passed my car theory test, w00t. 🙂 Now to get my eyes checked, new glasses, and start properly driving.

So, I’ve declared this a house-cleaning weekend, but so far all we’ve managed is one run to Argos and now James and the kids are playing Xbox 360 while eating Ikea snacks, and I’m nursing a headache and thinking I’ll need a nap before anything more strenuous.

Sex ed gone askew

December 11, 2007

My children say lovely, horrifying things. We watched a fantastic documentary yesterday about the development of three different animals from conception to birth. The kids learned all sorts of gruesome and wondrous things. Excellent. Then Nyssa plaintively says to me, ‘Mom, I wish *I* had sperm inside me.’ I mentally smacked myself enough times to keep a straight face and to keep myself from saying, ‘Did you not see that bit about elephant copulation?!?’ I asked her if she felt quite prepared at this point to get pregnant. She admitted she wasn’t. I think she must have missed the bit about sperm having a short lifespan and saw it as good future planning to get the dna situation sorted and not have to worry about it later.

The kids also have strange conversations between themselves. I overheard Joseph saying that he wished he was emperor of the universe (this is a recurring theme with the boy) and then he would force that Taylor boy to marry Nyssa. Nyssa breathes emotionally, ‘but Joseph..I don’t want *false* love!’ Joseph doesn’t see her point at all. I don’t think he’s watched enough Barbie movies.

I guess I should be happy that they do things together, albeit in the slightly psychopathic manner with which anyone with my dna is bound to do things. They play Barbie, but it inevitably involves dismemberment and excessive nudity. I’m forever finding Ken heads and Barbie arms in the couch cushions. They play Sylvanian families, in which Nyssa enacts teacher/pupil abuse, Joseph’s favorite character to play has the charming moniker ‘Throw-up Lad,’ and it’s good fun to get the cats to stampede through the baby playpark. What makes it all a bit disturbing is that this was the sort of sadistic play I favored as a kid. Of course I ended up as a peaceable sort of grownup, so maybe it’s all going to be ok. If really, really odd. Hehe.

Amazing thing..

November 8, 2007 much time I spend on the internets and still manage to not post pictures. Ah well. They’re sitting on my desktop anyway, queued nicely.

So. Nyssa has been having some strange and even more bizarrely predictable nighttime behavior. First, she’s been needing the bathroom *a lot* recently (we’re waiting for lab tests regarding that, actually), so she gets up once after bedtime to use the bathroom, won’t go into it. She eventually ends up in bed and a bit later will start to scream. I’ll run in to see what the matter is. She’ll invariably be sitting up, but will have stopped yelling. She’ll say strange things though. Last night it was, ‘Terrible, terrible, terrible! Pancakes!’ I lay her down and she conks right out. In the wee hours of the morning, she comes out for the bathroom again and then comes and flops on me. It’s hard for me to tell her to go to bed, because we have some weird and wonderful conversations in this late me and her time. Sort of reminds me of my dad coming home from his gigs. I’ll never forget that image actually. The crappy green carpet, Dad’s grey and black coat and beat-up cowboy hat, the smell of cigarettes and a bit of alcohol, and the hushed and husky voice of someone’s who’s been up into the wee hours of the morning. Ah. Anyway. Nyssa is mellow and slower in speech late at night. In fact one night she woke up because she was all wet. I found her in the bathroom with copious amounts of blood pouring off her face. I was shocked by the blood, but more so because of how composed she was. She commented in an offhand sort of way that she was concerned about getting her bedding stained. Bemusing little girl.

I’ve found a brilliant item to have when waiting at a train station longer than I intended. The kids were at a birthday party and got wee bottles of bubbles as favors. Apart from when they were being told off for venturing too close to the platform when chasing the bubbles, it was excellent.

People who don’t know James very well will probably be shocked to know that he is, in our vernacular, full of squee. That is, he gets all hello kitty cute at times. It’s true! You just have to involve cats somehow. For instance he is a very proud and doting father to his naughty kitten (hugantic, as Joseph says, 2-year-old cat) Mittens. He even has a painfully adorable song, the lyrics to which go: “Fishie time is here! Come and celebrate!” The singing of this is then followed by James going off into the hall with Mittens’ fish-on-a-stick toy with Mittens happily trotting along behind. The cat really is James’. He’s learned to fetch–on his own terms, but I can’t for the life of me train him to stay off the kitchen table. And he doesn’t just daintily hop up to sit, oh no. He jumps up, stomp-stomp-stomps about, knocks all the spare change and other kitty annoyances onto the floor, then nestles down in a bag of recycling. To top this off, when I come in and chide him, he looks at me like ‘what’ and somehow plants his huge rear end down to make extracting him as awkward as possible.

I finally got my invite to ravelry, woot. Sort of a myspace for yarn floozies. Check ‘er out here.

Nyssa was looking at the news and wants to warn you about this: apparently Gap hasn’t cleaned up its act.

Speaking of the Gap and its affiliate companies, I found Joseph an excellent coat in a charity shop yesterday. It’s reversible, red (awesome for Joseph), down-filled, and from the Old Navy. You find the odd and end American items second-hand here, it’s sorta funny. I have a strappy top from Banana Republic that I found in the Oxfam shop. Anyway, I paid a whole £1.25 for the coat. That’s $2.50, y’all. Yesss.

Hehe, I might have mentioned how huge of fans the kids are of High School Musical. It’s sick how the kids in this country love it. Nyss and Jos were even eyeing matching sequined tops with the HSM motif the other day. At some point I would have told the kids that someone had found a naked picture of Vanessa Anne Hudgens and put it on the internet. Femi-nazi Nyssa was appalled. Joseph said, ‘I wanna see it!!’ Nyssa was shocked, and chided him as he is her fan. He told her, ‘yeah, and if I see it I’ll be an even bigger fan!’ So so so wrong, but I could have died laughing.

Nyssa had a wee moment in the spotlight last week. We went to a schools showing of Meet the Robinsons and Nyssa was picked to radio the dude in the booth to start the film. She did a super cute job, but was a bit embarrassed about it because she was in her Halloween costume, being a home-schooled kid and having no dress code, and none of the other hundreds of kids aside from Joseph were. This year she was a little devil, and as is typical for Nyssa, the main features of her costume, i.e. horns and pitchfork, had become bothersome early in the day and were in my bag and her hair which had been spray-painted red wasn’t noticeable in the subdued light of the cinema. Nyssa needs her complexes I guess. That reminds me–for the love of wash’n’wear, do not buy the spray hair color from Boots. After drying it stained her clothes. It stained her scalp (a week later it’s still red). It stained the tub, it stained her jammies, it ruined her jacket because even after the hottest wash (or three) and the most caustic soap, the color wouldn’t completely come out.

And smoothly segueing yet again, Joseph was in the tub the other night and calls for me, sounding fairly urgent, to come to him. I find him with his hair all lathered up and a goofy grin on his face. ‘Mom look!’ he says then leans his head back sensually and running his fingers through his hair says, ‘yes yes, ohhh yes!’ I quirk an eyebrow. ‘I’m like the herbal essences commercial, get it?! Ahahahaha!’

One thing I like about homeschooling is that it halted the self-consciousness that was starting to impede their personalities. They were born whimsical, surreal creatures and I like that. Yesterday we were in Tesco, and I asked them to step aside to the seats by the window to wait for me to pay for the groceries. By the time I turned to look at them Nyssa was engrossed in a reflection of herself in the window doing a crazy hula dance. Joseph was trying to get out of an invisible box. When I walked to get them so we could leave, Joseph wordlessly opens a ‘door’ , gets into his ‘car’, motions for Nyssa and me to get in, and ‘drove’ us home. He’s an excellent chauffeur really. 🙂 And apparently he considers miming to be on his list of occupations for serious consideration. That would be very excellent.

Oh oh oh, we actually got an NHS dentist for the kids. Woww. James and I can’t get one of course, but the dude’s private rates aren’t too extortionate. This is considered better than average provision over here. Eh.

Guy Fawkes night was Monday, which as you might know is Britain’s bonfire/fireworks night. Wikipedia it if you’re interested. We were going to go to Burntisland, and indeed were on the way with our picnic dinner, when Nyssa was just feeling too unwell to be far from a bathroom, poor bean. So, we walked down a couple blocks to the waterfront in our own town and had no trouble finding a place to sit as the place was fairly deserted. It wasn’t actually bad for firework-spotting because even though they don’t have the sense to have anyone out on the forth shooting them off from a boat, lots of random folk were having their own little shows in the area. James confirmed for me a growing suspicion–you know those fireworks that back home in the States we can only get on the reservation? Yeah, apparently you can get them at the local supermarket here. Maybe they figure, ‘eh, it’s going to rain soon enough anyway.’?? So, we ate our picnic on an empty promenade, strained to see stars through the clouds, saw a few decent fireworks, and went home when we were too frozen to remain outside any longer. Then James made a fire and we played games. Pretty dorky, but for us it was a family night out on a week night. Wow! 🙂

With spouses like James..

September 28, 2007

..who needs enemies? I’m kidding of course, but sometimes he’s not just unhelpful, he strives to be The Anti-Help. Case in point: some days ago Nyssa comes up to ask what antioxidants are. I sputter for a minute with words like ‘free radicals’ and ‘oxidation’ whilst speed-googling for a kid-friendly response. James jovially takes over at this point. He shows Nyssa this picture:

He explains that antioxidants are something one takes to get the oxen out of ones body. (Nyssa, by the way, was savvy enough to know after a few nanoseconds that Dad was feeding her a load.) He points to this fellow in the cart:

He tells Nyssa to note how not only had this man expelled his inner oxen, but had made them into a useful resource. At that point I believe I wryly asked something about whether or not James had been taking his antioxidants, since he seemed to be so very full of bull****. He *then* tangents over to a map of Oxford (see here), where people had, apparently, historically always been good about ridding their heads of oxen, so much so that the town was named after their need to ford them across the river. I pointed out that that was perhaps telling, given the academic lot that gravitate towards the place. He was quick to agree, and I think the lesson ended on some grandly positive note along the lines of getting proper nutrition being the smart way to live.

Hehe, seriously, I wonder sometimes, with all the teasing the kids get from both of us, if all they’re really getting from their home education is the ability to tell whoppers with a straight face.

Hmm. Anyway, the kids are gone now with the grandparents (*sniffs sadly*), but they’re having a brilliant time. They called me a couple days ago (aw), and the first thing Nyssa said is that she was so glad to hear my sweet voice (AW!). The older we all get, the more I’m convinced that they took not just my brains and looks (if I ever had any to begin with) but also any sweet-temperedness. I’m a right hornet these days, but I seem to remember being such a nice and unassuming little girl..

For those concerned with Joseph’s wierd head happenings, I think the bumps resolved themselves. Joseph was *brilliant* and took every one of his doses, every day, three times, without having to be told, even though the taste was apparently appalling. If we did star charts, he’d get a huge one.

Nyssa has developed an itch to learn about the Tudors, in particular Henry VIII (why???). I’ve got books coming, but any ideas for creative projects would be most welcome.

I think Joseph has reached a new place in his cognitive development, in that when I explained what ‘metaphorically’ means, he could conceptualize it. One of the more interesting things about parenting is observing abstract thinking slowly awaken. One of the more humorous is when Joseph picks up a new phrase like, ‘That was *insert adjective phrase with multiple meanings of choice*–literally *and* metaphorically!’ followed by Joseph-style absurdist laughter. Ahhhhh I love my kids. 🙂

Speaking of children robbing me of brain cells, we went to Ikea and I couldn’t resist raiding the candy section. One of the bags has these fabulous fruity little fishes. ‘Wow,’ I’m thinking, ‘these taste just like Swedish Fish!!’ There’s an audible groan as my brain grinds to a start… ‘Oh yeah! Ikea! Swedish!’ *headdesk*

It’s alright though, since my position in life doesn’t necessitate much brain activity apparently. I would have been dejectedly washing dishes one night, and Nyssa comes in. She sees my plight, touches my arm gently, and says, ‘Mum, I’m so sorry you are the scullery maid.’

Someday soon I’m going to need to start driving. Things happen sometimes to put me right off it though, at least where other drivers are concerned. Joseph and I were walking home from scouts one evening, and come to a zebra crossing (non uk people: that’s a place that is super well-marked, lit up, drivers are obliged to stop, etc.). We stop because this jackass is actually speeding up to the stop from about 100 yards away. They screech around the corner, and as though that weren’t enough, the passenger leans out the window and barks at us. That’s right, like a dog. At a mother and a small boy. W. T. F. I’ve about had it with living downtown.

Couple things to note:

The holidays are coming up, and there has been some confusion as to customs on this side of the pond. For items marked as gift, a stated value of £36 or more could end up with me having to pay customs, VAT, etc. I’m sure you can read between the lines. For my part, I’ll keep that in mind when sending stuff home. Actually, I’ve had a bit of luck with because they take our uk bank card, so I might just stick with them again this year and avoid that nonsense altogether. Also note that if I seem like I’m spending lots of money on gifts in the US, I’m really not. The dollar is just so weak that my money goes twice as far. If I move back home, don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly really cheap, hehe. Seriously though, I do hope if anyone ever has a negative experience with getting mail from over here or a company I’ve chosen that they’d say so.

I updated my knitting blog with various things, including my awesome (*guffaw*) homemade spinning wheel. That is linked at the side I believe, but here it is anyway: fibre, fibre everywhere

Spitting in Boots

September 2, 2007

One thing we rarely do here is rent movies. That is, we’ve never rented a film in the ‘traditional’ sense; we watch them through our cable networks ‘movies on demand.’ I don’t even have a blockbuster account here, which feels a bit wierd. I sort of miss wandering through Hastings back home, and ending up with a pile of movies, half of which we’ll actually watch in our allotted five days if we’re lucky, and pounds of sugar-laden treats. So, James being gone this weekend (down in Oxford, lucky sod), I’ve let the kids pick a movie each night. We’re currently watching Flushed Away, which they actually saw in the theatre but was apparently so astoundingly hilarious that it warranted a second (and third) viewing. I love watching funny things at home because Nyssa can laugh as uproariously as she wants, and it’s cute when she gets going. She’s pretty impressive actually–when we go to the panto, she manages to be heard laughing over all the other hundreds of kids in the audience.

So, slight change in Nyssa’s dollhouse plans. We’re going with Sylvanian families. Reason 1: you can get baby penguin twins. Reason 2: you can have a family of kitties. Reason 3: you can get a Rosie and Jim-style river boat. It’s all too much cute to bear. We’re going for this house, I believe. Argos is selling one with a bunch of furniture. I’m still unsure where we’re going to put the thing..

Now, those of you who know my kids know that for the most part, they’re fairly reasonable and behave pretty well. This is no good for the child-parent relationship, however. The child has evolved such that it has a basic need to mess with the parent’s head. Keeping me offbalance must be adaptive. This would be why my kids rarely fight, but, for example, the other day Joseph came up to me with a confused and annoyed look on his face and told me that Nyssa had spat in his wellie. I was aghast, not because it was so terribly horrible, I mean spitting in boots is sort of funny because it’s so ridiculous. I was just completely at a loss as to how to deal with it. She ended up getting a two-pronged lecture. She knows that spitting is disgusting, for one thing, and for that reason should never have given in to whatever gut feeling told her to hoick on Joseph’s stuff. Second, she got the ‘spitting in many cultures is the most vile insult you can give, sometimes it’s even a curse!’ speech, and that seemed to shock her. Anyway, I wonder how long this trend will last. I’m getting wrinkles on my forehead from my eyebrows shooting up in ‘what the hell were you thinking!?!?’ parenting moments.

House so quiet

October 17, 2006

Ben and Meg have left and grandma and kids are out…suddenly it’s very quiet in the flat. I have a resounding feeling of ‘now what?’

Charity shop score of the month–yesterday I found 4 new Denby teacups and saucers for 6 quid. Sweet. I also found some white cotton sweaters for unravelling and dyeing.

We successfully sorted out the tax credit now. The plus of it taking so long is that we got 6 months of backpayment. Sweet.

I’ve been having trouble getting to sleep, and when I finally do I have intense dreams.

I seem incapable of a proper paragraph today :P.

I’m going to do some early christmas shopping today at Oxfam. The kids having all this stuff from the last month makes me leery of buying them anything, to be honest. I want them to grow up with their fair dose of ‘havenot.’

More Joseph funny: the other day we were watching Paramount Comedy, who are heavily promoting Sex and the City. Joseph finally sighs, and says, ‘Why do they call it Sex and the City?’ I winced, wondering what his next question might make me try to explain about human biology. Instead, he continues, ‘they should call it Sex IN the City!’ Hehe, pedant. On another occasion we were up in the attic because James suggested it would be a good guest room, and Ben was actually keen to try it. Joseph came up too, and we spied a big pile of ancient Cosmo magazines. Ben started reading some of the predictable blurbs, and Joseph chuckles and says, ‘hehe, those magazines are all about sex. Now who’s the boss?!!’ I fell over giggling, and I can only imagine what he actually meant.

Another reason to have pride in my son: when I gave him some double-stuf Oreos, he promptly took them apart and frankensteined himself a super quadruple-stuf Oreo.

It’s a sad state of consumer ennui when I see the cable commercial that goes, ‘if you can, you should,’ and I mentally reply, ‘eh, fair enough.’

Vroom vroom

October 11, 2006

We saw cars finally. The only films we will attend a proper cinema for religiously are Pixar ones. With releases of about once every 18 months, this is fairly doable. The film was pretty cute, and did make me pine a bit for road trips..

As I mentioned, James was home sick today, so I escaped the house without kids in tow for a short while. It’s nice to do that once in a while. I love my kids, but there’s invariably an irritation of some sort involved when I take them shopping. Yesterday, for example, I was braindeadedly picking out a concealer from those overly bright makeup aisles at Boots. Nyssa pipes up, ‘I’m so sorry mom!’ and I groan inwardly and turn to face her. She’s just blurped a fair amount of the contents of a bottle of ‘feminine wash’ all over herself. Her defense? She didn’t know how it opened. Why she took it upon herself to learn at that particular moment is beyond me. This sort of thing is why moms aren’t seen without purses large enough to contain wipes and kleenex.

Speaking of problems with cosmetics, James was complimenting my hair color yesterday and asked if I had dyed it. Apparently my inch-long roots weren’t a hint enough. I think what did the trick to make me oh so good-looking was seriously unwashed hair and perhaps some lipstick. Mmm..glamour.

Ever wish you’d wake up with a convincing virus just so you don’t have to leave the house. I suspect tomorrow will be one of those mornings. I know Edinburgh will be fun, but ughh. I think I’ll go knit some more of that jacket so as to have an idea of how much more wool I’ll need. I think I have the house more or less in order, aside from Laundry Butte. My mom’s coming on Friday, but she already knows I’m a slob.

This and that..

October 8, 2006

I just got done buying a girl guide shirt off ebay. Why, you might ask, as my daughter is not in guides? Well, on freecycle, I told a lady I had a shirt I would be happy to send her. However, upon inspecting it, I noticed some dark spots, presumably mildew. I tried to bleach them out with a tiny paintbrush, but as you might imagine, I only made matters worse. I felt bad, so I found one on ebay and so the lady won’t feel awkward about my having bought her a shirt, I’m going to have it sent to me and then send it on to her. Yes, I’m a sap.

Joseph is developing nicely into a sadistic brother. Nyssa comes in almost crying apologetically that she sucked her candy too hard and it went down her throat. After chiding her (choking is my key paranoia, you see), I explained that if it had gone down her lungs, she’d know it because she’d be coughing. She ran into her room and told Joseph how lucky she was because her candy went into her tummy and not her lungs, etc. Then she cleared her throat as she’s apt to do. Joseph says simply, but pointedly, ‘you’re coughing.’

The kids are debating about what sort of cake they want for their joint party this month. Joseph wants Bionicle and Nyssa wants Hello Kitty. Fair enough, but just for kicks, I told them to chat to see what they could come up with. They suggested a being with half a Bionicle face and half a Hello Kitty face. *sigh* I wish I had a costco membership, I’d get a big white sheet cake and let them have at it themselves with tubes of icing and sprinkles. For some reason, every cake here has the stupid inedible fondant crap on it. At one point, I told the kids, ‘hey, I could get you that cake from Tesco that’s in the shape of huge breasts!’ They thought that was an appalling idea. Hehe.

We’re doing an overhaul of their room because we never really organized it after we switched rooms around. My method is to totally clear out anything that doesn’t belong and put all of that stuff in a pile. A huge pile. They’ll chip away at that for several days, I think. If they do a good job, I might even bring some of their spare toys down from the attic. My biggest annoyance in this endeavor is Nyssa’s insistence on asking me a dozen times to reaffirm what exactly I’ve asked her to do. As though I could quantify mess and the time is takes to be rid of it. Not all teachable moments are pleasant ;).

I finished ripping yarn from those two charity shop sweaters and knitted up the back of this jacket. I altered the pattern to make it waist length, due to the amount of yarn I have. I’m not actually convinced I’ll have enough for sleeves, so I’m thinking perhaps a sleeveless jacket, or I can buy the remaining yarn in something complementary and do the ties and sleeves in that..i really should have posted this to my knitting blog, but eh, I’m lazy.

I’ve been thinking about what kids should be exposed to a which ages. I wonder how much of how parents choose is based not so much on a child’s readiness, but on the parent just not having the energy to explain it. South Park is a good example. I’d never let my kids watch that at this age. It’s not because I think it’s objectionable, it’s that I’d have to sit and explain things so much that watching it for the purpose of being entertained would be pointless. That, and I think they need a few more years of work on their ability to translate satire. Same thing when we go to the drugstore and I buy something from *that* aisle, and they query me on it. I tell them I’d be happy to tell them, but would they please ask when we get home, feeling sort of guilty because I know they’ll just forget about it. Then again, if it was vital knowlege for the little creatures, surely they’d remember. God, it was all so much easier when they couldn’t talk.