Yesterday, the General came running in my room, practically hyperventilating, "Mommy, quick! We need to hop in the car and drive over to Auntie's house and pick up my cousin, before the big tomato comes!"
"Slow down! The what is coming?" I asked.
"The BIG Tomato," cried the General. "It's coming and we have to get my cousin before it blows his house away!"
Laughing I asked the General, "Do you mean a tornado?"
"Yea, the big torMado is coming," replied the General. "Like the one that took Dorthy to OZ."
I looked outside and the sky did look pretty ominous.
Later that night...
I was sharing the General's humorous theory about the "big tomato", with my husband.
My husband laughed and wondered if that was how The Attack of the Killer Tomatoes was created. Some guy was sitting around with his son one day having a conversation and the kid started telling his father about a big tomato that attacked homes destroying everything in its way.
Yes, I agreed. Except I think somehow the son's idea was lost in translation.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Mother's Day 2008- Gift priceless!
The General recently invited me to his Mother's Day Tea at his pre-school. Each mother was presented with a certificate that was filled out by their child....here is what the General had to say about me!
Mother's Day May, 2008
My mom's name is Josie. She is 5 year's old and has brown eyes and blonde hair. My mom is 10 feet tall and weighs 5 lbs. Her favorite food is beef. My mom likes to work. My mom looks silly when she---she never looks silly. I love my mom because she helps me find the toys I lost.
Love, Scotty (Aka the General)
I feel a Mastercard commercial coming on...
Preschool $200 a month,
trip to ER for staple in son's head after jumping off the bed, $1500,
knowing that, in the eyes of my son, I look like a young, tall, thin model that always looks good, priceless!
Mother's Day May, 2008
My mom's name is Josie. She is 5 year's old and has brown eyes and blonde hair. My mom is 10 feet tall and weighs 5 lbs. Her favorite food is beef. My mom likes to work. My mom looks silly when she---she never looks silly. I love my mom because she helps me find the toys I lost.
Love, Scotty (Aka the General)
I feel a Mastercard commercial coming on...
Preschool $200 a month,
trip to ER for staple in son's head after jumping off the bed, $1500,
knowing that, in the eyes of my son, I look like a young, tall, thin model that always looks good, priceless!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Pass Over...
The General has been learning, at school, about the different holidays that people celebrate. Last week, the mother of one of his Jewish friends came to the school to speak to the children about Pass Over.
When the General came home that day I asked him, "What did you learn about Pass Over?"
And he informed me that Pass Over entails passing crackers.
Confused and needing a little more elaboration, I asked again, "What is Pass Over?"
The General let out a big sigh and in a dahh manor and answered, "Mom, Pass Over is when everyone is sitting at the table and you want some crackers, so you ask the person next to you to pass them over."
How could I have been so silly not to have understood that?
When the General came home that day I asked him, "What did you learn about Pass Over?"
And he informed me that Pass Over entails passing crackers.
Confused and needing a little more elaboration, I asked again, "What is Pass Over?"
The General let out a big sigh and in a dahh manor and answered, "Mom, Pass Over is when everyone is sitting at the table and you want some crackers, so you ask the person next to you to pass them over."
How could I have been so silly not to have understood that?
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The Mom Test
Ok, so this isn't a story of mine, but it could be the story of my life and it is just too cute not to share....
The Mom Test
I was out walking with my 5 year old daughter. She picked up something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth.
I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that. "Why?" my
daughter asked.
"Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs," I replied.
At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, "Momma, how do you know all this stuff. You are so smart."
I was thinking quickly, "All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mom Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mom."
We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information.
"Oh..I get it!" she beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have to be the dad."
"Exactly!" I said with a smile.
The Mom Test
I was out walking with my 5 year old daughter. She picked up something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth.
I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that. "Why?" my
daughter asked.
"Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs," I replied.
At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, "Momma, how do you know all this stuff. You are so smart."
I was thinking quickly, "All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mom Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mom."
We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information.
"Oh..I get it!" she beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have to be the dad."
"Exactly!" I said with a smile.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Note to Self: Never Go Shopping with 3 Toddlers!
I recently braved taking the General, the Tank and the Destroyer to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for the Destroyer, and some feminine products for myself. Taking all three of my cadets to the store is something I try to avoid at all costs. Mostly because I spend more time apologizing to those around me, for my children's behavior, than I spend shopping. This trip to the pharmacy was no different.
From the minute we entered the store, all eyes were on us. Mostly because the Destroyer was crying, in agony. Whether it was the pain of his cold or the pain of the Tank trying to rip his leg off, I am still not sure.
I quickly threatened the Tank and told him that if he continued to act up that he wouldn't get to go to Grandpa's house later. A solid threat, so I thought. But instead of retreating to my side quietly, the Tank took off like a ragging hyena in search of fresh prey.
As I followed the clatter of the Tank's wake, muttering apologies as I passed frown after frown on people just shaking their heads in disbelief at my total lack of control over my children. I quickly loaded my cart with my feminine products as fast as I could and bolted toward the pharmacy counter.
When I got to the counter the clerk informed us that the Destroyer's prescription wasn't ready yet. So there I was with a crying infant and now two insanely hyper toddlers. You can imagine all the friends I was making.
When our turn finally came, I asked my guys to make themselves useful and unload the cart for Mommy. Little did I know that unloading a box of tampons and a package of maxi-pads would be so thrilling. But as the General lifted the pack of maxi-pads from the cart, the Tank tackled him and ran off with the pads screaming, "I want to hold Mommy's special band-aids!"
From the minute we entered the store, all eyes were on us. Mostly because the Destroyer was crying, in agony. Whether it was the pain of his cold or the pain of the Tank trying to rip his leg off, I am still not sure.
I quickly threatened the Tank and told him that if he continued to act up that he wouldn't get to go to Grandpa's house later. A solid threat, so I thought. But instead of retreating to my side quietly, the Tank took off like a ragging hyena in search of fresh prey.
As I followed the clatter of the Tank's wake, muttering apologies as I passed frown after frown on people just shaking their heads in disbelief at my total lack of control over my children. I quickly loaded my cart with my feminine products as fast as I could and bolted toward the pharmacy counter.
When I got to the counter the clerk informed us that the Destroyer's prescription wasn't ready yet. So there I was with a crying infant and now two insanely hyper toddlers. You can imagine all the friends I was making.
When our turn finally came, I asked my guys to make themselves useful and unload the cart for Mommy. Little did I know that unloading a box of tampons and a package of maxi-pads would be so thrilling. But as the General lifted the pack of maxi-pads from the cart, the Tank tackled him and ran off with the pads screaming, "I want to hold Mommy's special band-aids!"
Monday, March 10, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Someone's in need of a whooping and it isn't Momma...
One of the trickest things I find about parenting is that no matter how hard I try to teach my children what is right, there is always someone who is better and quicker at teaching them something wrong.
The other night the Tank was impatiently waiting for me to frost his Grandpa's birthday cake. He was hovering over the cake like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill.
"Back away from the cake," I pleaded with the Tank as he poked wholes into its side.
"No, I want to frost it!" replied the Tank as he made a second pass around the perimeter of the cake.
"Back away from cake!" I commanded. "You need to be patient, we have to wait for it to cool."
The Tank took his eyes off his prey momentarily to look at me and whispered, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
"What did you say?" I asked genuinely shocked. Neither myself or my husband would ever sputter such harsh words.
Before he could even answer me, the Tank retreated to the naughty corner.
I approached him and asked again, just encase I misheard him, "What did you say?"
The Tank timidly replied, "I said I'm going to kick your ass if you don't let me frost the cake."
Nope. I had heard correctly. All I could think was: where would he learn such words; and if there is going to be an ass kicking around here, I'll be giving it!
I collected my cool and reminded the Tank about manners. I told him that when he was ready to apologize to me that he could come out of the corner.
Just as I turned to walk away the tank sweetly called my name, "Mommy."
"Yes, is there something you would like to say to me?" I asked.
"I'm sorry for saying that I was gonna kick your ass," whispered the Tank.
The other night the Tank was impatiently waiting for me to frost his Grandpa's birthday cake. He was hovering over the cake like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill.
"Back away from the cake," I pleaded with the Tank as he poked wholes into its side.
"No, I want to frost it!" replied the Tank as he made a second pass around the perimeter of the cake.
"Back away from cake!" I commanded. "You need to be patient, we have to wait for it to cool."
The Tank took his eyes off his prey momentarily to look at me and whispered, "I'm gonna kick your ass."
"What did you say?" I asked genuinely shocked. Neither myself or my husband would ever sputter such harsh words.
Before he could even answer me, the Tank retreated to the naughty corner.
I approached him and asked again, just encase I misheard him, "What did you say?"
The Tank timidly replied, "I said I'm going to kick your ass if you don't let me frost the cake."
Nope. I had heard correctly. All I could think was: where would he learn such words; and if there is going to be an ass kicking around here, I'll be giving it!
I collected my cool and reminded the Tank about manners. I told him that when he was ready to apologize to me that he could come out of the corner.
Just as I turned to walk away the tank sweetly called my name, "Mommy."
"Yes, is there something you would like to say to me?" I asked.
"I'm sorry for saying that I was gonna kick your ass," whispered the Tank.
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