Future Generations or the Next Butt

S had a social studies assignment to rewrite the preamble to the constitution in his own words.
It was a long and arduous process, for both of us.
But, he slogged on until this part.
"Mom, this says 'for ourselves and our posterity."
"Yes, what do you think that might mean?" I asked.
"Well, I'm not exactly sure. I know posterity means 'butt' and I just can't figure out why they're talking about butts in the Constitution. Does it have something to do with the freedom to pass gas?"
"No, dear, the founding fathers were not concerned with gaseous eruptions. The word you're thinking of is posterior not posterity."

We are going out to get a dictionary this weekend.

Highway Signs

Went up to my Dad's a few weeks ago. Just me and the kids. But no Maggie, thank goodness. She gets whiney in the car with only the kids for company.
Anyway, we're tooling along the highway, la de da and I come up to a slower moving vehicle. I get into the left hand lane to pass and realize that I need to pass a couple more cars. No problem, I'm kicking right along.  We were on a four lane highway so there was plenty of room to pass.
Suddenly, I look up in the rearview mirror and see this little 2 door car right on my backside. No, seriously, I couldn't see the front 1/3 of the car the guy was going so close. Well, that rather slightly ticks me off. I mean, it's dangerous and stupid so I very, very gently tap my brakes so the lights go on as a "Back off my a**s!" signal to Mr. Driver (who is about 22 and is in the little car with his girlfriend riding next to him).
I actually speed up so that I can move back into the right lane as soon as possible 'cause I'm perfectly okay with Mr. A**hole, er, I mean, Mr. Driver cruisin' right on by me. Go ahead, I think, really, I don't mind, speed along and go far, far ahead of me. And I may have prayed real quick  for a Mr. Policeman to be up ahead with a speedtrap for my new friend. Ahem (or is that Amen?!).
I get back into the right hand lane and I glance over at Mr. Driver. He is now even with me, rolling down the passenger side window, hanging onto the steering wheel with his left hand and leaning out the passenger window with his arm and hand hanging out and he's giving me the one finger salute. Waving it madly around and about. His girlfriend is trying to pull him back into the car and yelling at him to "Knock it off and behave! Watch where you're driving" And, I believe that he may have been saying a naughty word or two directed at me. 'Cause I'm good at reading lips that way, I guess.
Holy moly, that was one nasty case of car rage. Geesh!
Meanwhile, C & S have witnessed Mr. Driver's behavior.
"What is that man doing?" asked C looking very confused by they whole thing.
I qiuckly respond, "Oh, he's just waving hello. Let's all wave back to him and make his day brighter."
I wave (with all fingers not just one), C enthusiastically waves and S half-heartedly waves.
 There was a few second of silence then I hear, "Ah, Mama?" says S.
"Yes?"
"I don't think he was waving hello."

Where's that Lunchbox?

"Where's your lunchbox?" I asked S.
"I don't know, I'll find it" S replied. It's about 5 minutes until the carpool comes.
"Better hurry" I offer my  oh-so-helpful advice.
Mumbling something (I prefer not to know what it was), S looks for the elusive bag that has his lunch inside.
It's now 2 minutes before carpool.
S uses the bathroom. I say (with slightly more emphasis, well, if you count yelling as 'slightly more') "Where's the dang lunchbox? You are NOT ordering school lunch. I packed a perfectly good lunch and you need to find it. It was in your hand not 5 minutes ago, where is it?"
"Mama, I'm in the bathroom, I'll look when I get out" S replies.
I still think it's an avoidance tactic.
By now, I've looked all over the house. S has looked and can't find it and the carpool has arrived.
S hightails it out of the house (I believe he was secretly glad to leave the increasing pressure cooker that was our house with the missing lunchbox).
"Mama, I can't find it. I'll just eat school lunch" S yells as he's getting into the carpool car.
I may or may not have well, not so gently, slammed the front door  all the while muttering "he just wanted school lunch, bet I find the ding dang lunchbag right after he leaves."
I continued to look for it for about 1/2 hour. It remained unfound. I remain convinced that S had hid the lunchbag just so he could have school lunch. Not a happy mama.
Fast forward to the next morning.
"S, where is your lunchbox?" I asked.
"Mama, I looked everywhere, I can't find it?" he said.
"Are you sure you didn't put it somewhere so you could have lunch at school?" I ask.
"NO! I didn't but I'll keep looking even if I can't figure out where it might be" S decides.
I walk over to open the front drapes. Look outside the window, and lo & behold, there's that lunchbox. Outside, on the ground, behind the bushes, next to the house.
Now, why didn't I think of that??!!

My Royal Family

We went for a nighttime walk tonight. The weather was beautiful, the moon was out, the snow was a-melting. As we were coming home, C started this conversation:
C: Look! Maggie is walking and leading us, just like a Princess!
S: Yep, she's a princess all right.
C: Princess Maggie and I'm a princess too.
S: Oh boy, here we go.
C: I'm Princess of Nice and Maggie, she's the Princess.... Princess of.... um.....
S:Pooches?
C: Yeah, Princess of Pooches. And Mama is the Queen. She's always the Queen. She's the Queen of Mamas.
[At this point, I was thinking that I've taught my youngest well!]
C: And Daddy is the king, of course. King of all the boys.
S: Well, what am I then, if you're the princess, Mama the Queen and Daddy is the King?
C: Oh, that's easy. You're the Joker.

MLK: Civil Rights Leader...Really??

C came home singing a song.
"Dr. King, Dr. King, he was a civilized reader....."
She went on to finish the song.
Not sure I heard her correctly, I asked "Can you sing the first line again?"
C said "Sure.  Dr. King, Dr. King, he was a civilized reader"
"umm, C, I think you mean Martin Luther King Jr. was a Civil Rights Leader. That means.."
I was interrupted.
"I know, I know Mama, what that means. It means he helped people have freedom cause some silly people wouldn't let all kids go to school together. You know, I think those people must have something wrong in their head to not let all kids go to school together. God made us all different, who cares what color skin you have?" She skipped off, singing "Dr King, Dr King, he was a civilized reader."
She stopped and said to herself, "He must have really liked books".
"Dr. King, Dr King, he was a civilized reader....."

I swear, I cannot make this stuff up.

Starstruck

S went to Miller Park yesterday for Weather day. WTMJ4 had a science fair and talked about the weather and then the kids got to watch about 6 innings of the 14 inning game against the Pirates. (Boo Pirates, Yeah Brewers, Boo on the Brewer eventual loss.)
What had S most excited? No, it wasn't the hotdog and Pepsi he got, or the cotton candy, although, they were darned high on the list.
No, my son's biggest moment?
He shook Craig Koplein's hand. Craig, one of the TMJ4 weathercasters.
S was literally jumping up and down when he told me.
"I got to shake his HAND!" he bragged.
"Did you ask him a weather question?" I said.
"OH no," S replied, "I was just too stubborn to ask."
I hesitated, thinking 'how does stubborn go with that?'
"I was so excited because he's, like, really famous, he's on tv and EVERYTHING!" exclaimed S.
Then I said, "Honey, I think you mean speechless."

On an unrelated note, later at dinner, S asked me "In Catholic-ology, is Sister another name for nun? You know, the ones who run the Catholic church?"
Good thing my Mom never heard this one!
Guess I have some 'schoolin' to do with my starstruck boy!

Oh Sister!

C was reading a book to me. She came to the word "sister" and couldn't figure it out.
So I prompted her "You know this word. It's what you are to S".
She thought for a moment and then with a confused look, she answered "Sneaky?"
I just grinned.

Complaint Department

S & C were playing outside before school. Suddenly, S comes rushing in and stands right in front of me.
"Yes?" I ask him, meaning "I'm working on an important crop in Farmville and do not wish to be interrupted."
"Mama" S responds, "I want to lodge a complaint against C."
"Really?" I ask, trying not to crack a smile cause he's looking quite serious.
"Yes, I want to lodge a complaint." He stands there and looks intently at me, not saying another word.
Shortly, I say, "OK, consider your complaint lodged".
He stands there a bit longer, just looking at me.
"Is there a specific outcome you would like?" I ask.
"Yes, Mama" S says. "C threw a rock at me and it almost hit my back. Would you tell her my complaint was lodged and that I would like her to stop?"
"Certainly" I respond, "Is that all?".
"Yes, that is all" and S runs back outside to play.

Seriously, where does he get this stuff???

Y Me??

We joined the YMCA. And, I've actually been going. And working out. And sweating. And having sore, sore legs that night and the next day requiring Ibuprofen. It better be worth it.
Anyway, it's always an experience at the Y. I seem to be a magnet for the weirdos, I mean, eccentrics, I mean mentally challenged, no, I really mean weirdos that frequent the place. Only, not the young, good looking ones. Oh no, I get the old and somewhat depraved ones.
Yesterday, I went to the Y. La tee da, in I go. And doing pretty good as no one talked to me in the locker room (trust me, that's a plus). I get on my elliptical machine and push, push, push myself. I was looking fierce on that machine.
As I'm in full sweat mode, watching the timer, tick, tick, tick SLOWLY down (I swear it goes slower when there's only 10 minutes left), the man in the next row in front of me stops and gets off his treadmill. Now, I wouldn't have normally noticed this, because besides watching the timer, I was seriously watching my Oprah. And no one better interrupt me and my Oprah.
Alas, it was not to be. The weirdo man stops right in front of me and looks directly up into my face (now picture this, as it requires a bit of contortion on his part because each machine has its own tv screen and I'm focused on my Oprah). And then he proceeds to say, with a big ass cheesy grin on his face "Gooooood morning! And have a GRRReat day!" I almost fell off the machine. And I think I managed to say 'heh' but it might possibly have come out as a grunt. (Thank goodness what I was thinking didn't come out. That would have wiped the grin right off his face!) I'm not entirely sure what sound I made because I was trying to hang onto the machine, watch the darned timer and I was missing Oprah. And Weirdo Man wouldn't go away until I acknowledged him. Oh, and did I mention I was the only female he graced with his friendly/disturbing presence?
Well, he moved on. I trudged on and finally I finished. Off to the showers I go.
I get into the shower, was just about to take off my towel and thwap! I get hit upside the side of my head (partly on my face) with something. "What the heckl?" I look up and see that the old woman in the stall next to me had flung her swimsuit over the top of the stall and smacked me upside the head with it. Not the worst part though. The part of her suit that I got hit with? Well, it was the soaking wet crotch! EEEEEEUUUUUUUU!
I never shampooed so thoroughly.

Rock Around the Block

At Weight Watchers, we talk a lot about different topics and we talk about anchors, those things that help us, ground us, give us some inspiration. This week, our topic was about moving more. Not being one to love exercise (shocking to learn that about me, hey?!), I liked the topic. Didn't help me figure out what exercise I will learn to like but oh well.
Anyway, to get us started, our leader gave us each a wooden block and told us that when we get stuck and don't know what to do, just put the block down, walk in a perfect square around it and then think "There, I just walked around the block. Now what can I do?"

I thought it was cute and patiently waited for my turn to pick out my block from the box.

I, of course, chose a red block. Not with an 'A' on it, unfortunately, but at least it was red.

And then.

And then, I turned it over.

At Weight Watchers.

Where I struggle with weight loss.

Where I go for support.

And this, this is what I see:

Can you believe it????!!! A pig!

I couldn't hold it in and guffawed right out loud. One big power burst "BAH HA HA HA!" And many, many giggles after that. I think I scared the poor woman next to me. I turned to her and said "I got a pig. AT WEIGHT WATCHERS!" Hee hee hee! She was not amused and scooted just a little bit further away from me.

Truly, I think if I can laugh at this, I can find laughter anywhere.

And, I guess I needed it if only to remind me not to take myself so seriously.

Look Before You Leap

So, in the rush of the morning and trying to get ready before the kids left for school, I grabbed the water spray bottle and spritzed my hair. It helps tame those flyaways and wayward curls and trust me, in the morning, I need all the help I can get. I started combing through it and thought, hmmmm, my hair smells like there's something in it. What the heck? Then I looked down at the counter. Let me tell you, the water sprayer and the spray Resolve carpet cleaner look suspiciously the same when you're in a hurry. On the bright side, I guess I don't have to worry about high traffic marks in my hair this week.
Guess I should have labeled this post, Look Before You Spray.
Just sayin'.

Furnace Repairs

When the weather turned colder after our few days of warm weather, I noticed that it was getting chilly in the house. So, after putting on a sweatshirt and still feeling chilled I decided it was time to turn the furnace on. Off I went to flip the switch on the thermostat. I flipped it, and....nothing happened. Well, that's not necessarily unusual, Hubster says I must have a loose wire (guess it's better than a loose screw) so I waited a few minutes and tried again. Nothing, nada, zilch. Temp is now 63 degrees in the house. I tried every trick I could think of to make it work. Went downstairs to the basement and turned the furnace off and on, took out the batteries from the thermostat and replaced them, etc. etc. Still nothing.
So, about 3 hours later, after I finished muttering just a few choice words and lamenting the fact that the furnace people were here not 2 weeks ago and didn't it figure that it worked then but now, nothing, I thought I'd look one last time at the thermostat and hope for some divine revelation on how to repair it without costing an arm and a leg.
And, I found out something.
The furnace works really well when you turn it to "heat" and not "cool".

Blogger Barbie

OK, this shouldn't be as funny as I am thinking it is, but really...take a look......

This post and the last one are what happens when you can't sleep in the middle of the night. There's some strange stuff out there on the 'net!