There’s a flair on Facebook that reads “I may be more obsessed with Edward Cullen than I am willing to admit”.
I could have written that.
This is the last we will speak of it.
Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn’t get used to it, though I’d been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday’s hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. ~ Bella
Categories: I'm cool like that
Categories: I'm cool like that · it's always all about me
I have not read Twilight. Yeah, I KNOW I’m the only person in the free world who has not. Thank you for reminding me.
My daughter has shown interest in it. I read the summary on Amazon. I decided in complete prudish fashion that she wasn’t quite old enough yet.
My soon-to-be-thirteen-year-old-daughter is now getting the book for her birthday. From Grandma. On my suggestion. There is a waiting list to borrow the book from her Language Arts teacher – and I guess I decided if all the other thirteen year old girls were reading it (from their classroom library no less!), so could the Diva. I totally caved.
But the best part? She won’t KNOW I caved. She will never know that I TOLD Grandma to get her that book. And? I’ll get to read it, too.
Win, win.
I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves. ~Anna Quindlen, “Enough Bookshelves,” New York Times, 7 August 1991
Categories: I'm cool like that · divaliciousness
Who knows what movie that’s from? Anyone? Anyone?
Our outside Christmas decorations are up. Don’t judge. They’re up, but not lit. Because you know, up here in the northeast, when there’s a balmy day in November, EVERYONE decorates outside. We’re kind of screwed when it’s time to undecorate because everything is frozen to the ground in January. And February. And March. Hell, we’re lucky if there isn’t snow on the ground during our Easter egg hunts.
Overheard today:
P-Man: What’s for dinner tonight?
Me: Meatloaf.
Him: The awesome one?
Me: No, I thought I’d give the crappy one a whirl this time and see how that goes over with all of you.
What I learned today:
Showering should be done as early as possible each day. While slippers and a hat might cut it for drop-off in the morning, it is NOT acceptable for delivering forgotten items into the school during the day. My bad. I mean, not that I did that. I TOTALLY knew better.
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. ~Danny Kaye
Categories: I'm cool like that · Overheard
We jumped on the pellet stove bandwagon this year. I wasn’t ever truly sold on the idea because I knew so many people who were buying the stoves and snapping up pellets by the ton. It stood to reason, in my mind, that the reasonable price of pellets would skyrocket – typical supply and demand. I was wary of the idea that the pellets would actually save money over heating fuel.
And? I hate the stove. I hate everything about it. It’s loud. The three fans we have positioned around it to circulate the warm air are loud. And cold. Everytime I walk in front of a fan, I get a blast of cold fan air blowing at me.
There, I said it. I admit it. I am, apparently, not environmentally conscious when it comes to heating the house. I want warm air radiating from the baseboards in every room. I don’t want to feel like I’m standing at the Equator in the living room and have to don mittens to put away laundry in the bedrooms.
Ok, it’s not really that bad. But like any non-centralized heating or cooling system, it’s hard to move the warm (or cool) air through the entire house. And did I mention that it’s loud?
Here’s the thing. I know when P-Man was trying to decide where to install it (and there are certain requirements for placement), he took into consideration the fact that I spend nearly all day at my desk. He thoughtfully installed it right behind me so the warm air would blow in my direction. And it’s loud. And the fans.
Some days it bothers me more than others. Guess which one today is?
Some days I’m a super bitch
Up to my old tricks
But it won’t last forever
Next day I’m your super girl
Out to save the world
And it keeps gettin’ better ~ Christina Aguilera
Categories: I'm cool like that · Quit bitching · he completes me · it's always all about me
Is it normal for a mother to encourage her child to NOT worry about school and grades? Because my child? Is going to give herself an ulcer worrying about her grades. My straight A+ child.
I’ve already had to limit her access on the computer for the purpose of checking her grades. She’s found a way around that since the students all received their laptops a couple of weeks ago – she just uses that and checks at school or when I’m not paying attention to what she’s doing. She will check her grades multiple times daily, if allowed, just to make sure nothing has dropped.
Last week she called to ask if she could stay after school for “math help”. I was on the other phone with P-Man and he heard my end of the conversation. When I got back on the line with him our conversation went something like this:
Him: The Diva is staying after school?
Me: Yes
Him: For math help?
Me: Yes
Him: Isn’t she getting an A+ in that class?
Me: Yes
Turns out she stayed not because she needed help, but because anyone who stayed got to start their quiz early AND got three extra points added to their grade. I asked her just how much higher she could go than where she already is and she just gave me her “Mom, you’re so dumb” shrug. Want to know what she got on her quiz? You know you do. She got 107. She aced the quiz, answered a bonus question correctly, and the three extra points.
Last night she attended a sleepover party. A little before 9:00 PM she texted me to ask me if her laptop was charging. I texted back “Don’t worry about it you are at a party. Have fun!” Her response was “Ok, but could you plug it in please?”
Don’t get me wrong, I am super proud of her. Clearly, she did not get her genius IQ from me. I can still help her with homework, so that must be saying something about my intelligence level. (No, seriously, I know a lot of parents who CAN’T help their 7th graders with homework. It’s beyond them.) Yet the fact that she is so overly worried about her grades, in turn worries me greatly. That’s a lot of stress and pressure for twelve years old. I can’t even imagine what her book bag weighs every day, because she brings home every. single. book. she. has. Just in case. I’ve asked her to stop carrying everything home, to bring home just what she needs – if nothing else, for the sake of her back. She agreed, but I still see her heft her bag onto her back every morning and I KNOW she has extra books in there.
So is it wrong? Is it wrong for me to try to get her to chill out just a little? Anyone who has read this knows I didn’t apply myself in school. I could have done really well for myself back then had I put forth a little more effort. I don’t want her to take the same route I did, especially since I know she has much more potential than I ever did…but I also don’t want her so stressed out that she has a meltdown in high school – or before.
Encouraging without pushing, suggesting without nagging. It’s a fine line and I’m not doing a very good job of knowing which side I’m on.
If the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn’t. ~Emerson M. Pugh
Categories: I'm cool like that · divaliciousness
The Diva has been getting up earlier and making muffins for herself and her brother every morning. The only thing is, she forgets to grease the pan so it ends up soaking for eleventy nine hours before I can clean it properly (yeah…she makes the muffins and I get the dishes. Sweet deal, huh?). This morning I walked into the kitchen to see her spooning the final bit of batter into the pan. I asked her if she remembered to grease the pan, and she sighed heavily and scraped all the batter back into the bowl, cleaned the pan, sprayed it, and filled it again.
This afternoon when I was putting dishes away, I decided to put a sticky note on the pan. I wrote GREASE ME on it so when she pulls it out of the cupboard tomorrow she’ll see it right away.
I showed the Postman.
Him: Why don’t you ever wear a sign like that?
Me: I thought it was already understood. Do you really need to be reminded?
Yeah, we’re still like 17 year olds sometimes.
I’d like to meet the man who invented sex and see what he’s working on now. ~Author Unknown
Categories: I'm cool like that · Overheard · he completes me
In the car today, the Captain and I were discussing the living arrangements of one of his friends. The friend’s sister is away at college, and she has left her baby with her mother while she pursues her college education.
Captain: You would never let me go off to college and leave my baby with you.
Me: That’s why you aren’t going to be having any babies before you go to college. No babies until after college when you have a good job to support them. So when you’re seventeen, you wrap that little thing.
*cricket, cricket*
Him: When I’m seventeen, it won’t be so little.
I almost drove off the road.
Now, if groups like Moral Majority have their way, there won’t be any sex education at school, and our kids will be the dumbest in the world when it comes to sex…. But our parents are sexually retarded too…. Fear and primitive morals are creating a sexual pressure-cooker in this country and soon the top will blow…. Only in the U.S. do we find children drawing a picture of a baby coming from the clouds or from under a cabbage leaf. ~Floyd Martinson
Categories: Captain Fantastic strikes again · I'm cool like that · Overheard
The Postman got a flat tire on his route, and could not get the lug nuts off to change his tire. So he called me.
Yeah, I laughed too.
Turns out I was his third choice. Actually, I was probably his 453rd choice, but everyone else before me was unavailable. So he called me, and asked me to go into his father’s garage and he would tell me where to find the things he needed.
Him: In the blue cabinet on the left, there’s a set of sockets. All together, in a holder. Different sizes, you can’t miss them.
Turns out I CAN miss them, but only the first seven times I look right at them.
Him: Now there’s a long chrome handle, about a foot and a half long with a knuckle on the end that fits into the sockets. It’s somewhere in the same cabinet where the sockets were.
Silence for, like, 3 minutes while I look.
Him: HONEY. Long, chrome handle. Foot and a half. Knuckle on the end. Fits the sockets. In the cabinet. Long. Chrome handle. Right there. I know it should be right there. Long handle. Chrome. Knuckle.
Me: If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I am going to BEAT you with it when I finally find it and bring it to you. Repeating the same words over and over is NOT helping me find it. I am well aware that I am completely tool stupid, but how about remembering that I AM HELPING YOU OUT HERE, JACKASS!
Ok, well, I guess I wasn’t REALLY helping since I couldn’t find the stupid, giant, chrome handled tool. With a knuckle on the end.
When I did find it – you know, HIDING right there in the BOTTOM OF THE RED TOOL BOX, – I then needed to find ANOTHER stupid lug nut remover thingy. Fortheloveofallthatisgood. Did he NOT learn how painful it is to have me find a tool yet?
Finally I had all the necessary equipment, or the equipment that sounded like what he was describing, and I was on my way to find him out on his route.
He got his tire off in no time with the handy dandy chrome thingy and sockets and was off to complete his work day.
Me? I took his flat tire to get repaired to make up for telling him to shut the fuck up. I rock.
Oh, and? Is it wrong that ”long handled chrome tool” makes me giggle? Everytime.
It is the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can only do little – do what you can. ~Sydney Smith
Categories: I'm cool like that · he completes me
The Diva’s school pictures are tomorrow. She has been putting outfits together, deciding what she will wear, and picking the pose she wants.
The Captain, caught up in the madness, asked when HIS school pictures are. I told him and then said “I’d like you to wear the black shirt with the pony on it.” I walked into the other room to see the Postman smirking and shaking his head.
Him: He’s not a Polo kind of kid, Buffy.
Me: Yeah, but it’s black and he’ll probably be sporting a mohawk. It’s called compromise.
In my defense, he picked out the shirt himself the day we went school shopping, and I don’t even think he knows who Ralph Lauren is.
But it still made me a little happy. Is that wrong?
What a strange power there is in clothing. ~Isaac Bashevis Singer
Categories: Captain Fantastic strikes again · I'm cool like that · divaliciousness · he completes me
