Monthly Archives: March 2010

We’re not in Ohio anymore…

March 31st.

The day I realized I couldn’t keep the butter on the counter anymore.

How much you wanna bet we can’t make it through April without turning on the air conditioner?

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Filed under Moving is my hobby, This is going to be really funny one day

Let me introduce you to….

Last weekend, Felicity was sitting on my lap at the table.

“Mom?” she said.

“Yes?”

“Daddy.” she pointed across the table.

“Daddy?!” she said loudly.

“Yes, Felicity?” he said, looking up from his book.

“Mom.” she said.

“I think she just introduced us.” I said to Mr. French.

“Yeah. Hey, Felicity?

We’ve already met.

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Girls are not boys

And we thought she wasn’t paying attention

Everyday in school, the boys bring me their work as they finish, and I correct it and give it back to them to fix.

Felicity often sits next to me in her high chair scribbling on scrap paper and when the boys come over, she hands her paper over for review.

Usually, I look at it briefly, praise her use of color and form, and hand it back. The other day, though, I took my pen and said, “Well, I think you need to fix this area,” pointing to the scribbles, “and this really needs to be shaped up here.”

I handed it back to her.

She took the paper, looked at it, and let out a heavy sigh.

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Sometimes I worry about that kid.

I bought J a toy cell phone when he turned two. He enjoyed it. And then the batteries died. They were removed and um, for some reason, never replaced.

One night last week, when I was out, Daddy promised J to replace the batteries, much to my chagrin. But since he promised, I bought new batteries and put them in. It’s like a brand new toy. Felicity and J play with it all the time now.

Once, after getting home, we were all walking back to the apartment and J had the cell phone. It rang, and J answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yeah.”

Pause.

Looking at me, “ThinkI’mgonnahavetoletchago,now.”

____________________

(In family worship)

Mr. F: “We will all die one day.”

J pipes up. “Well, I want to live ’til I’m nine.”

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?

Gettin’ yer Felicity fix

As her father likes to say, she’s a girl!

I took her shoe shopping the other night. I wasn’t sure we’d get out of there with only one pair. She tried on at least eight. And was annoyed when I tried to get her to put on one white maryjane and one black maryjane at the same time. (What? I was trying to save time.) And while sometimes I’m not sure whether she understands what I’m saying, it was quite obvious that when I said we were going shoe shopping, she knew we were going to buy some shoes!

The other funny thing is that she wears Duplo rings (think: big and plastic) on her wrists as jewelry. Insists on taking her keys with her whenever we go to the car, and puts on and tries to walk around in any and all shoes that she finds. No shoe left behind. Just all scattered around.


She plays hide and seek. She told me she needed her diaper changed and when I got up to do it, I couldn’t find her. I called her a couple of times. I asked the boys if they knew where she was. Then, I hear a little giggle coming from the closet.

She loves “Mo-yee”, the dog. Every picture she sees is “Mo-yee”. So I googled “golden retriever”. “Mo-yee, Mo-yee, Mo-yee!” she shouted, pointing to every dog.

And, while she knows all her brothers by their names, she doesn’t say their names. They’re all collectively called, “Boy”.

Her favorite things though, by far, are balls. She has a collection of them. Several of which are pink. She carries them around in a lunchbox. She talks about them all the time. And she finds them in her food. Peas, naturally, are little green balls. Even black beans have a ball-like structure, she was telling us the other night.

I probably never would’ve thought of them that way until she pointed that out.

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Filed under Girls are not boys

The oldest and the youngest

I found them enjoying a stroll together.

Through the apartment.

Felicity was pushing the baby and C was carrying the second baby.

She had her purse, her keys (“Ma Key!” she calls them), and her cell phone. And, of course, bottles for the babies.

They walked all the way to the master bedroom before setting up for a picnic. Naturally, the “Dad” is reading while “Mom” sets up the food.

But then, he did feed the baby.

Orange juice in a bottle, but who’s keeping track?

All kidding aside, I was really impressed with how well my oldest boy played “house” with his little sister. It may never happen again, but it was sweet while it lasted.

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Boys will be boys, Girls are not boys

Since no one bothered to ask…

Did you see that massive picture hanging over our “dining room” table?

Let’s back up a minute, shall we?

Mr. French buys all the pictures for our walls. End of story. I entered this marriage inheriting more pictures than anyone I knew even possessed. We’ve since bought more.

But, here’s the kicker.

We didn’t bring any with us to Texas.

I know. And that would be the second time we’ve done that.

But fear not. Mr. French, as only Mr. French would, procured a new picture for himself.

And let me say one more thing. There is no way on earth I would’ve done what Mr. French did to procure this picture.

NO way.

But only because I’m a chicken and not because it’s illegal or anything. (just wanted to clarify.)

So, we’re looking on Craig’s list for a used washer and dryer. And boy, is that a story for another day. Like when someone tells you they’re “right at Hwy 1604 and something exit” but they’re, in fact, three miles off 1604 and something exit and also on some no-name pot-holed dirt road in some backwoods industrial park place with a bunch of old washers and dryers out in the elements behind the shop….but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

After one time too many spent at the laundry mat and on the phone with used-washer/dryer salesmen, we finally found someone who seemed legitimate. So we drove over to his place. He showed us the two sets he had to offer. He was a roof repair guy and would often pick them up when people were getting rid of them, to make a few bucks by selling them. Fair enough.

As we’re leaving, Mr. French stops to ask him about this picture hanging on the wall behind their kitchen table. The man tells us about how someone was selling it really cheap at a garage sale and he comes home with it and his wife likes it. He shrugs his shoulders.

“I really like that painting.” says Mr. French.

I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.

We get back in the car and leave. We’re barely out of the neighborhood when Mr. French and I decide to buy one of the washer and dryer sets. Mr. French calls and sets up a time with the guy. Then he gets off the phone.

“Can I tell you something, but you have to not get mad.”

Now why did he have to add that on there?

“What?”

“I just don’t want you to put the idea down before you’ve heard it.”

“Just tell me.”

“What if I asked if I could buy that picture?”

Heavy sigh.

“He can always just say no, right?”

But he said, “Yes.”

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Filed under Everyone's an interior designer, Mr. French, This is going to be really funny one day