Going Doooowwwwwnnnnn

So. This is the last blog post for public consumption. I have weighed the pros and cons and have decided to take the blog underground. All of my regular readers will, of course, be invited along. I had to let you know that, because Aunty Evil just yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and I heard it, all the way over here. A friend recently had to block some things on flickr after one of those creepy people I'd like to think don't exist, but unfortunately indeed do exist, bookmarked a picture of her child. I made the decision, perhaps without careful thought, to use our information and photos a bit freely in this space. I don't want it to be a decision that might cause harm to my wee ones.

My last not-so-important observations before the move follow.

We went to Wal-mart tonight (argh!) after the girl ate the last of her lunch box entree, despite the fact that I told her NOT to eat it. Or perhaps BECAUSE I told her not to eat it? Anyway, there was nothing for her lunch tomorrow, so we loaded up and made the trip. On move-in weekend for all the returning university students. Oh joy.

The forever wait in the checkout line turned a marathon sing-along of Queen's "We Will Rock You" including mangled line about "sit you on your face" instead of "you big disgrace". It also provided me with time to make a mental Fashion Do's and Don'ts list.

Bedroom shoes should not leave your house. Grab the sandals, the flip flops, crocs... anything but the bedroom shoes.

A nightgown is not appropriate shopping clothing. Talk about a total lack of effort!

Shorts that do not cover your lady lumps are essentially underwear and should not be worn as outerwear.

In that vein, a brightly colored bra under a see-through shirt is also inappropriate for public. Madonna tried that in the 90's and really, it didn't work then either.

Tank tops are gym wear. They should not be worn anyone over a certain age/weight limit. Not ever. Never.

There are more but I got distracted by a knock-knock joke and a secret handshake involving the pattycake song. See you on the other side!

What's Up?

Lots.

We are still working our way into the school week routine. Earlier wake up times, earlier bedtimes, lunchboxes going missing every other day, e-free on Monday through Thursday... The small people have protested this action as a war crime and are threatening to convene a NATO security council meeting over the issue of no TV or video games on school nights. By Thursday, I may be willing to testify on their behalf.

J.T. gave us a grand performance of Phantom of the Opera on Friday night. He had parts divided up for he and Abby, a sound technician and everything. Only Abby had a real Carlotta moment and decided it was her way or the highway. Which was fine with us. J.T. played ALL the parts and delivered a nice rendition of his favorite show. Abby sat stage right and sawed paper dessert plates in half using a plastic knife. All the while loudly proclaiming that if we didn't do what SHE wanted to do, then she would not play with us anymore. Not never. Not never again.

Tonight Abby asked me how turtles breed. I thought:

A) I don't know. That's why we have google.
B) If I did, I wouldn't tell you.
C) Wait a minute. Did she "breed" or "breathe".

Turns out it was "breathe".

Back to School!

Summer is technically over, in terms of no school anyway. It's still hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk and will be until Halloween. BOTH kidlets started school yesterday. J.T. in grade 3 and Abby in pre-K.

We went armed with supplies, bookbags, new lunchboxes, a slew of completed paperwork and even a little excitment about the new year. J.T. went into his room like the seasoned veteran he is, found his desk, shoved a box of tissues at his teacher (from the room supply request list) and said: "My MOM says you need these." He was very concerned that someone else had brought tissues too and these would be overkill and why NOT suggest it was all MOM's idea, just in case.

Abby's class has 20 four year olds enrolled. TWENTY! There is not enough ibuprofen in the world for me to take that on. One kid cried until he threw up all over the teacher's assistant. Luckily, they found a t-shirt for the poor woman to wear the rest of the day. Abby didn't cry (0r throw up) and after a few minutes of quiet observation, dove into the activities. I asked her if it was okay for me to leave and she just nodded and kept at her puzzle. Sniffle. Good thing they were handing out tissues at the door.

Abby asked me last night why the kid was crying and calling "Mommmmmyyyyyy!" and I said: "Perhaps he missed his mommy? Did you miss your mommy?"

"No," she said, with a bit of an eye roll.

They survived, even thrived, and came home... without their lunchboxes.