Monthly Archives: October 2007

Well, you got me there.

C and J were arguing about who got which color cup.

“C” I said. “I think you’re just trying to start a fight.”

C looked confused. “I’m not fighting. There are no swords or shields.”

“Yeah. Not fighting.” said J shaking his head.


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“Mom” S said in an accusing tone. “I see you not make dinner.”

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It’s taboo.

Some of our dear old friends came to visit us this past weekend. As soon as the kids were in bed on Saturday night we started playing Taboo.

The following was used as an example of why the girls could no longer be on a team together against the guys:

Example #1:

J: This is an animal at the Zoo.

Me: Giraffe!


Example #2:

Me: This is something women get…

J: Manicures?


The following is an example of why the guys should not have been on a team together:

Guy #1: This is a type of…pasta…that has different levels to it.

Guy #2: Levels?

Guy #1: It’s wavy pasta. It comes from the country near France. Right over the border. Known for their pasta.

Guy #2: Spaghetti?

Guy #1: It has different levels. There’s the wavy pasta, then a level of sauce, then cheese. Then another level of pasta. Of wavy pasta.

Guy #2: ….

Times up!

(My sides hurt from laughing so hard.)


Filed under Mr. French, That was fun

The Clincher

One more reason why we will not be buying the boys a battery operated car.

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France: What I miss about you!

  • All the beautiful, warm, delicious, crusty bread that sat waiting for me, mere steps away from our apartment.
  • Oh, and the flaky pastries too.
  • The view of the mountains from every window in the house.
  • Walking everywhere.
  • The simple life.
  • Hanging all our clothes up to dry. I enjoyed it, even if inconvenient, and it reminded me of my growing up years.
  • Our friends, the Stolls and the Barbours.
  • The cute old men who rode their bikes to the grocery store every day.
  • The woman at the park with her two perfect little kids who always wore something black and was impeccably dressed at all times, who was the only person in that town who looked “French” (i.e. Parisian) and who I stared at every time I saw her and who, even now, is probably relieved that her American stalker is stateside. I do miss staring at her, though.
  • Getting together almost every Tuesday night with people we liked and who made us laugh.
  • Wednesdays as Saturdays. Everyone needs the middle of the week off.
  • The best salads I’ve ever had.
  • The way the French prune their trees. I thought it was weird at first, but it makes all the trees looks so neat and groomed. The U.S., by contrast, looks like one big bushy unibrow.
  • The cheap, but good wine.
  • The many varieties of cheese, but mostly the Chèvre.
  • And the crusty, ever-present, always tasty, bread.

(This post is dedicated to Mr. French.)

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It’s just been a really gross day and it’s only 2 p.m.

An open letter to the original owners of this house:

Dear Original Owners,

Hi, we just bought your house. It’s really beautiful. We love the view. What a great idea.

So, you really like purple, huh? You know, the royal purple counter tops you put in, not only the laundry room, but also the master bath? Interesting choice. I guess.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing is a little matter I had to take care of today.

Now, I haven’t owned a lot of refrigerators. I haven’t ever even gone to the store to buy one before, so I may be wrong, but they don’t make self-cleaning refrigerators. Ovens, yes, refrigerators, no. So, what exactly were you thinking when you spilled that…um…molasses? maple syrup? thick soy sauce? in front of the refrigerator and just left it? Who, exactly, did you think would clean it up?

Now, maybe I could forgive you for leaving it for a day, but years? Maybe you came home from work after a really hard day and all you wanted was a Coke? Beer? BBQ sauce (What was it?!) and then the dog ran over and you spilled it everywhere and you just couldn’t face cleaning it up right then. I’ve been there. Believe me. But, Hello? It was what, five years ago, that this happened? I may be inexperienced, but it looks like no one has ever cleaned underneath that refrigerator.

But it’s clean now. You’re Welcome. I almost threw up while doing it too, but I cleaned it. While I ran back and forth cleaning up after my two sick kids. Sigh.

I just have to know one thing.

What was it?

No, you know what, I do not want to know.

I need a bath now.


P.S. It was molasses, wasn’t it?


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Filed under Moving is my hobby, That's just gross

Trust your gut.

Sometimes I don’t know what to do.

And sometimes I don’t do the right thing.

But here’s what I learned today.

First: When your middle child says, “I feel sick.”

Believe him. Treat him like he is sick until otherwise informed.

However, when the same child says, “Mom, I feel good. I’m all better. I’m hungry.” immediately after dry-heaving into the toilet, don’t believe a word he just said.

Do not rationalize it by saying he has a weak stomach (that he inherited from you, by the way) and think it was just a little isolated incident.

Even if he stuffs three muffins into his mouth.

This is not sufficient evidence of wellness.

Trust me on this one.

Do not let him get into the car.

Your car will thank you later.

Second: When your youngest child uncharacteristically falls asleep while at the breakfast table, imagine a big red flag waving rapidly over his head.

Resist the urge to place him ever so gently in your bed, because you want to keep him close by. No, instead, put him in his own sufficiently water-proofed bed. But, even without that kind of foresight, at the very least, please please please remember to take your down comforter off the bed, first.

She would thank you, but she’s hanging on the porch smelling funny.

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Filed under I'm a pretend writer, That's just gross