Wednesday, April 27, 2005

The Name Game

Heard this weekend:

Mom, his name IS Fity Cent.

I doubt very seriously his name is actually Fifty Cents.


I am SURE that is not his real name.

Yes it IS.

I doubt his Mother purposefully named him Fity Cent.

I don't know, but that is his name.

And you think it is cool?


Then you won't mind us naming the new baby Fouty Ounce.

Mom. That's not funny.

(ED. Note: Please forgive the sporadic posting for the next week or so. It is the end of the semester and I have two HUGE research papers due early next week. I guess you know what I will be doing.)

Thursday, April 21, 2005


It all started innocently enough. The kids and I were grocery shopping. Our cart was full of the ingredients we needed for the week's meals and we were getting close to the checkout. That is when it hit me.


Why I had this overwhelming NEED for those little chocolate gems, I cannot explain. I haven't actually eaten HoHos since I was in high school. No matter, I HAD to have them...IMMEDIATELY! Of course, we were not able to easily FIND the HoHos. Twice my children stopped me at the Little Debbie display. Please. Swiss Rolls are NOT HoHos! Explaining the intricacies of a pregnancy craving to children is almost impossible. They just don't get it. About the best I could do was:

HoHos! Must.have.HOSTESS.HoHos.

How hard could it be to find these things? Hostess is a major corporation for cryin' out loud. Hadn't my local store ever heard of Ding Dongs and Twinkies? Up and down the aisles we went looking for what apparently is the Holy Grail of junk food. The kids finally got the message on our third pass by the Little Debbie display when my eye began to twitch and I hissed, "NO! I want HOSTESS HoHos!"

In desperation, my wonderful son finally stopped a store employee to ask where the Hostess display was. Imagine - a young man asking for directions! I was so proud. And finally, there they were on the end of the cookie aisle. My beloved HoHos!

Of course, by the time we got home the craving had subsided. I was only able to eat three of them (ahem). It is a good thing, too. Those delectable little chocolate covered cakes with the oh so heavenly cream filling probably have 1,872 calories each. I hope this is not a trend.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Speed Bump

I have posted about the bane of my existence, I mean our dog, in the past. I am almost positive now that she has "Doggy Alzheimer's." The most compelling evidence is her extreme forgetfulness. I am convinced that she hears nothing in her head but the sound of a test pattern or the static you get when the cable goes out. For instance:

She forgets that she has been fed. She insists on dancing around her food bowl anytime someone walks in the general vicinity of the kitchen. This sometimes works to her advantage when said person thinks other family members have neglected to feed her. Recently she received three breakfasts. Yes, THREE. This does not help the diet she is supposed to be on.

She has forgotten all training she ever had. The fact that she has NEVER been allowed on furniture now escapes her. The minute we turn our backs, she tries to climb on someone's bed. Of course, since she weighs 300 pounds, she is rarely successful. (ED. NOTE: OK, perhaps her weight is not exactly 300 pounds, but it sure feels that way when she steps on my foot)

She has forgotten that she has never been allowed to eat out of the trash. She will walk right up to the trashcan like it is the buffet at the local Golden Corral.

She has forgotten that she is no longer a puppy. If left to her own devices near an open bathroom door, she will go in and shred the toilet paper until it resembles confetti and she is celebrating Mardi Gras.

She has forgotten that she used to love to play "fetch." Now when someone throws a ball or a stick, she runs for about 3 strides, slows to a walk and lays down wherever the ball or stick has landed.

She has forgotten how fat she has gotten. This weekend she slithered under our deck, something she has not been able to do in years. Of course, she got stuck trying to climb out. Personally, I voted to leave her there until she lost enough weight to climb back out on her own.

She has forgotten all of the cool dog tricks she used to do. No longer does she respond to commands like "sit, shake, lay down, roll over," etc. Instead, her only trick is her impression of a speed bump. Notice that she is performing this wondrous feat in the picture you see above. The speed bump trick can be witnessed anytime I am trying to walk through the house with purpose. It is definitely my favorite when performed at the threshold of the bathroom in the middle of the night...when I haven't turned any lights on.

I have always fantasized about what kind of dog we will get when Casey's days on earth have come to an end. Who am I kidding? She is 11 this year and yet I am convinced that she will live forever, just to spite me. I believe that all of her teeth will fall out and I will be forced to feed her that expensive canned food, by hand, which will then give her the runs. And of course she will be incontinent when that happens. Such is my lot in life.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

The Season of My Defeat

My friends, spring has sprung here in the Mid-Atlantic region. Flowers are blooming, there are buds on the trees and it is gorgeous. My neighbors have been out working on their yards in the beautiful weather. I live in a neighborhood where people take pride in their property and they work endlessly to beautify their yards. Their gardens are lush with colorful flowers and their grass is bright green showcasing their striking trees and bushes. And thus, my inadequacies are glaringly obvious to all who drive down our street. It is time to concede my defeat, yet again.

You see my friends, I am loath to finally admit my shortcoming, but I am landscaping impaired. I have a brown thumb. In short, I kill things. I do not mean to, in fact I always have the best of intentions. Every year I spend money on the best bulbs and plants. I dig and plant in the hopes that THIS year will be different. Alas, it is not to be.

What you see above is a picture of my front "garden." It is the SINGLE tulip that came up this year of the dozens I planted. I had visions of this sea of pink, white and bi-colored tulips swaying in the breeze. Instead, that green crap that looks like grass took over. It is called monkey grass and was apparently planted years ago by the previous owners of the house. Why? I cannot tell you because the stuff is like kudzu. Every summer, I dig those little pesky bulbs out and believe that it is FINALLY gone. Instead, I can only imagine that they are like sand crabs at the beach. They see me coming and burrow deeper into the ground, only to multiply and foil me yet again the following season.

This year, I get serious. If I have to rent a backhoe to dig up the entire front of the house I WILL prevail. In the meantime, if you happen to be driving down our street among yards that look like the Botanical Gardens, you will know which house is ours. We're the one that looks like an overgrown landfill.

Happy Spring.

Monday, April 11, 2005

The Egg Hunt

And you thought this was a belated Easter post. Unfortunately, no.

The Little One is a bit obsessed with all small animals. She has been begging for a rabbit for over a year now and we have been successfully dodging that bullet. What we had not been aware of was her fondness for chickens, specifically baby chicks (we call them peeps).

Saturday we traveled a few hours north for a gathering with some very dear friends. We all congregated at L.'s house for a fabulous afternoon filled with good food and fellowship. L. and her husband live on a horse farm and they just happen to keep a few chickens around for fresh eggs. L. announced that no one was leaving without eggs, so of course I was thinking, "Yummy, fresh eggs!" The Little One, on the other hand, was thinking, "Yay! Peeps!" *sigh*

It took us most of the trip home to explain to The Little One that these were not fertilized eggs, they had been refrigerated and they would NOT hatch. Of course, she did not believe a word we said. I realized this when we made a quick stop at the local Blockbuster on the way to our house. #1 Son leaned over and whispered, "Mom, I just thought you should know that she snuck one of those eggs out of the carton and has been keeping it warm the whole way home. She thinks it's going to hatch." Lovely. We again went through the reproductive cycle of chickens trying to explain that this egg would NOT HATCH. It would only get rotten.

It was then that #1 Son dropped the bomb. "I guess that means you should make her give up the egg she snatched from the fridge. It's been hidden in her room for at least a month."

That, my friends, touched off the Great 2005 Egg Hunt, and it definitely explains the smell.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Crazy Searches That Have Found My Blog - Again

The searches that have found my blog never cease to give me a laugh. I wonder who these people are, though perhaps I really do not want to know. Since the list of weirdness has gotten long again, I give you the most recent installment in the series of honest to God, actual searches that have found my blog.

by placing a frog in cold water and the frog sits but add boiling water and the frog jumps out but humans are smarter than frogs are they?

Dear Confused: I am from the south, so I feel qualified to clear this matter up for you. The correct saying actually goes "If you throw a frog into a pot of boiling water, he will jump out. BUT if you set a frog in a pot of cold water and slowly turn up the temperature he will happily sit there and boil alive." I have actually used this saying many times in the past in reference to my former career. Yes, generally humans are smarter than frogs...but not always.

dirty dish blond color

Dear Undecided: While not one of those flashy colors like platinum blond or auburn, it is better than dog poop brown, my natural color.

child stitches grandparents house insurance liability

Dear Grandparent: If your child is suing you for an accident their child had while at your house, cut that ingrate out of the will...NOW. You will then want to estimate and total up every dime you ever spent on your greedy offspring over the years and present them with a bill. It goes without saying that you should immediately terminate all babysitting services you currently provide.

what does blue balls mean?

Dear Young Girl: He is trying to get into your pants. Do not buy the "blue balls" routine. They will NOT fall off and he can relieve himself later. Stick to your guns.

capri sun purse instructions

Dear Crafter: Obviously your crafting fetish is getting out of hand. Empty Capri Sun pouches belong in the trashcan. Besides, how in the world would you fit anything into a purse made out of those?

Oompa Loompa Genetics worksheet answers

Dear Child: I assume that since you are studying genetics you are not too young to hear the truth. Oompa Loompas are not real. They were characters in an old movie and were played by midgets (or little people or whatever the politically correct term is now). I am sorry your parents were not honest with you. If this information is too upsetting, wait a few days before searching for Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.

canadian league football payscale

Dear Fan: There actually IS a Canadian football league? Who knew? I guess without a real sport like hockey, people are getting desperate.

food coloring in broccoli does it suck in faster

Dear Parent: Give it up. No matter what color you try to dye the stuff, your kid is going to see through the ploy and will still refuse to eat it. Instead take a food chopper and grind it up into almost a paste, then mix it into spaghetti sauce. Repeat with the carrots. Under NO circumstances should you let them catch you performing this maneuver. If they see you, all hope is lost. Good luck.


Dear Animal Lover: PETA is looking for you.

potty dance

Dear Parent or Office Peon: The potty dance is a phenomenon resulting from a child who desperately needs to use the bathroom. You don't often witness it unless you are on the phone, shopping in a store with no public restrooms or are in the bathroom yourself. It is characterized by rapid foot movement and grabbing of the crotch. The potty dance is also performed by a manager or supervisor in the workplace when he or she wants something trivial that he or she believes (erroneously) is important. The potty dance, when performed by a child, should not be ignored. The child has inevitably waited until the absolute last minute. You can safely disregard the potty dance when performed at work by a superior. If you do not make eye contact, the offender will eventually go away.

how long do spiral perms last

Dear Recent Perm Victim: It depends on how bad it looks. In my experience, the more you look like Shirley Temple on crack, the longer it lasts.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Snap! Dude, You're So Tight It's Whack!

Warning: In the words of my children, I am "about to get all PaPa on you." Translated that means I am about to utter a phrase that sounds like something my father would say. In my day, you could understand the language of young people. (Ed. Note: My father is fond of starting statements with "In my day." Upon hearing those words, my children automatically tune out.)

I hate to admit it, but the majority of the time I have no idea what the heck my kids are talking about. Multiply my confusion exponentially when they are talking to their friends. I constantly have to ask for a translation. Below is a list of words that have recently caused me pause. Please keep in mind that while my children are usually happy to translate for me, I am NOT allowed to actually use these terms, lest I cause them severe embarrassment.

DUDE - n. I had to include this one because apparently it's meaning has expanded. No longer is dude exclusively used to refer to a male. It is now used to refer to any person, regardless of gender. For instance, "Look at that dude's skirt!" Evidently, this word also refers to one's mother, as I am called dude quite frequently, i.e. "Dude, can I have a fruit roll-up?"

TIGHT - adj. Apparently this is a term that means good looking. It is used much like "phat" was in the 1990s. For example, "That dude is tight!" I also believe it doubles as a positive adjective meaning "cool," i.e. "That song is tight!" (Ed. Note: A parent dancing around waving their hands over their head and shouting, "Look at me! I'm tight!" causes a child to go into seizures. I know this from experience.)

WHACK - adj. No longer reserved for striking someone or something, this term I believe signifies something that is not quite normal or right. For instance, "My sister is whack." The object or person in question is often something you don't particularly enjoy, i.e. "That math test was whack" or "This homework is whack." Whack can also be used to express embarrassment, such as "Mom, don't kiss me in front of my friends. That's whack!"

SNAP - This is an exclamation. For the longest time I believed it was always used in a positive manner, i.e. "Snap! I found my Gameboy!" or "Snap! We're out of school on Friday!" Either the meaning has expanded in the last two weeks, or I misunderstood from the beginning. Snap is now also used as a negative expression. Examples of this are, "Snap! I dropped my phone!" or "Snap! I'm out of fruit roll-ups!" Recently, almost every sentence my daughter utters begins with this term.

There are others, but honestly it makes my head hurt. To think, my parents were confused by simple terms like "cool" and "psych."

Name: Cattiva
Location: Virginia, United States

About Me: I'm the mom of three: #1 Son (20), The Princess of Wails (17) and their baby brother - The Baby (6). I was a grad-student working on an MA in history until we were surprised - I mean blessed - with The Baby. I'll get back to it...someday (the thesis, not the kid - I have no choice concerning the kid). I am one of only a few people I went to school with who is actually using their history degree in my career (and to think my Father called it Basket-weaving!). I live a very hectic life amongst massive clutter. I call it a good day if we have managed to get home at night without losing one of the kids (no matter how hard I try!). Friends say I have a humorous take on life's happenings. The sad part is that what I write about is true. I laugh to keep from crying.

See my complete profile

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