"Who's Gonna Feed Me?"

I've always wondered why God chose to bless me with not one, or two, but three daughters...

Yesterday, after having to sub as a 2nd grade teacher in a class with -a ratio of 9 boys to 3 girls- by the end of the day, it all made perfect sense! There is no doubt in my mind that I would be behind bars, if some of those boys were mine. So for now, I have finally decided to sign up for an upcoming Language Tester Trainee program in New York. But first, I had to break the news to the children...

“Girls, Mommy may have to go away on a business trip for a few days.” I announce.
“I don’t want you to go Mommy." Exclaims Scrawy. "I’ll miss you!”
“Who's going to take care of us?" asks Kid Sid.
“That would be Daddy," I reply. I'm sure he can handle it."
“But, but, Mom, Dad can't cook." Blurts Furr-ball(with a look of panic on her face). “Who’s gonna feed me?”


P.S. when it comes to keeping that tummy full, I'm proud to mention that I'm yet to meet another kindergartner with such unwavering priority like my Furr-ball-:)

If you liked this post, you'll love Papa John's Pizza Vs. Disneyworld.

Light Jacket

Daddoo and I like to go for a brisk walk after dinner. And each time, Furr-ball would huff and puff until we either give in and let her tag along or pay her off. Usually, a handful of coins is enough to do the trick.

A few days ago, as we were about to head out in a windy fiftyish Northern GA temperature, she asked, "Can I come too?" I handed her a dollar bill; told her we’d be right back and asked her older sisters to keep an eye on her. Half way down the driveway, I heard, “Mom, heeeeeeeeeere! Take this!” We turned around to find her waving the dollar at us.
“That’s yours” I replied. “Go back inside.”
“Nooooooo mommy, you keep the dollar; I wanna come."
"Fine." I said. "Go get your Light Jacket."

But when she came back out...

v

v

v

v

v

I remember thinking...

She needs hearing aid or I need speech therapy -:)

The Semantics of Eating Vs. Snacking

For the past few weeks, I must admit that my attempt to bribe, coerce, or trick the children into eating more high fiber or whole grain breakfast seems to be counter productive. If it isn't General Mills Cheerios, Golden Graham, or Lucky Charms, forget it! If the label does not read Hungry Jack Pancakes or Eggo waffles-blueberry to be specific- they want absolutely nothing to do with it. So, I was a bit taken aback this morning (and pleased) when Furr-ball asked if she could have a bowl of oatmeal.
“Mom” she announced proudly, “I am going to be good today.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I am going to eat healthy foods and clean up my mess.”
“Excellent” I said. Who could argue with that?

Three hours later...

(after she finally figured out where I'd been hiding her halloween stash)

Me: So, what happened to eating healthy today?
Furr-ball: Mooooooooom, I’m not eating. I am just snacking.

Guys, methinks I may very well have a brilliant defense attorney in the making. If you happen to stumble upon a pre-law, after school program for kindergartners, please email me-;)

If you enjoyed this post, you'll probably like this blog entry -;)

Big Butt

Sometime in Year 2005...

The girls and I are at the dollar store looking at a bunch of worthless crap, when I suddenly hear, "excuse, excuse me." I look up to find a rather large lady-hey, this is me speaking politely...

As I was saying, I look up to find this woman trying to shove her cartful of crapola (and herself) between a round table that is smack right in the middle of the aisle and Furball(who is leisurely browsing at some toys on the shelf).

Hey Jade!" I scream. "Get out of the way so she can squeeze through."
"I'm not in the way." She yells back. "Her Big butt is!"

Nashville Star

Year 2003...

After performing a handful of our original songs at a local church-a few years back- Scrawny exclaimed, “Wow Mom, "You should be on American Idol!” I told her I was over the hills and explained about the "cut off" age rule.

Turning to Daddoo, I asked, “Why don't they just come up with American Idol for older contestants?”
“Mom," replied Kid Sid(my 10-year-old),"It's called Nashville Star!"

Baby Carrots

I was in the kitchen munching on some baby carrots when Scrawny strolled in and asked if she could have some. I handed her a handful and she disappeared. A few minutes later, she was back asking for more.
“What happened to the ones I just gave you?”
“I ate them all.” She replied.
“You know carrots are really good for your eyes...”
“Mom, you’ve said that like four times. Maybe carrots are not so good for your memory.”

I Spy With my Little Eye Something...

A couple years ago, we were on our way home from a family outing, when I asked Daddoo to swing by Publix. My intentions were good…really. I just wanted to grab a cart of Soymilk. However, by a vote of 4-1, my proposition was vetoed. The children had nothing specifically against Soymilk or Publix. They just didn’t trust me. Okay, let me rephrase…they were onto me. Based on my track record, they knew there was no such thing as "in and out of the store," for me. Who could blame them? Last time they heard my famous “I’d be right back” routine, I came rushing out of the store to find my youngest two snoring comfortably in sync; John’s face, beet red! Words that had no business coming out of the mouth of a father with young children were hauled at me at the speed of light. Anyhow, we all agreed that he was a better candidate and should run in. In the interim, we decided to play the famous, "I spy with my little eye something..." game.

“I spy with my little eye something gray” I began.
“Your hair!” exclaimed Scrawny.
“Noooooooo…the steering wheel, Dumbo!” replied Kid Sid
I spy with my little eye something green. I spy with my little... something red. Something purple. If you’re not familiar with this game, by now I’m sure you get the point. Just when we thought all of the obvious color coding comparisons had been made, Furr-ball blurted,

“I spy with my little eye something yellow.”
“Jade, there’s nothing yellow in the car” I said.
“Mom, can you say cheese?”

I flashed my pearls.
“That’s Yellow!” She pointed and chuckled.

When One Door Closes...

One of the things I hate about our Primary Care Physician's Office, is the lack of adequate parking spaces for patients. Just the other day, as I circled around impatiently, wishing that a parking spot would miraculously appear, dreading the thought of being late…again for a scheduled appointment, a minivan pulls out.
“Hallelujah!” I exclaimed.
Turning to Scrawny, I said, “You know, when one door closes, another opens.”
“By itself?” She asked, with a puzzled look on her face.

Slip of the Tongue

Daddoo loves to play “jumbo” with our youngest two daughters. It’s a family game that pretty much allows the kids to beat the crap out of him. The routine? He sprawls on the bed or floor; drapes a comforter over his upper body and lets them kick, punch and body slam the living daylight out of him. Occasionally, one of the girls would accidentally land in the groin area, and he’d scream, “Stop jumping on my freaking nuts!”

A couple years back, Scrawny and Furr-ball, were bouncing up and down on their bed, as if it were a trampoline. Suddenly, I heard a sustained screech “MoooooooooooooooooM…GET HER OUT OF HERE!”

“Why?” I yelled back.

“I fell down and she’s jumping on my freaking nuts!”

May I Give You a Ring?

Once I thought it was the most brilliant idea to ask an online aquaintance whom I had met on a Bellsouth message board if we could exchange phone numbers. I sent an email titled, “May I give you a Ring?” and included my T-mobile cell phone number. Several days went by, no response. When I finally ran into her again on a co-blogger's site, I asked, “Did you get my email?”
“Yup.” She replied. “But I deleted it!”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you were going to ask me to marry you!”

Papa John's Pizza Vs. Disney World

If Furr-ball had a priority list, I think it would look like…

"1. I love Daddy
2. I love Pizza
3. I love Disney World”

A few days ago, she blurts, “Mom, I don’t want Daddy to go to work.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“I want him to stay home.”
“I want him to stay home too,” I say. “But we need the money.”
“Why do we need the stinky money?”
“Well, if we don’t have any money, we can’t go to Disney world.”
“We don’t need to go to Disney world.”
“Okay, if we don’t have any money, we can’t order Papa John’s Pizza.”
Turning to Daddoo, she says, “Dad, you can go to work now!”

If you like this post, you'll probably love Case of the missing nuts

The Missing Nuts

Years ago, Daddoo and I were arguing about who ate the last handful of my favorite dry roasted, unsalted, whole cashews.

“I didn’t do it,” he says.
“Really, who then?” I sneer accusingly.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it. He insists. “Maybe one of the kids ate them.”
“Look, Kid Sid is allergic to nuts; Scrawny ,won’t touch cashews with a 10-foot-pole.”
“Well, I guess that leaves you or the baby.”
“Fine!” I retort, as I storm out of the room.

Subsequently I hear, “Bennneeeeeeeee, come here quick! ”
I dash into the nursery to find Daddoo wiping Furr-ball's butt. Pointing to chunky clusters of undigested cashews in a soiled diaper, he smirks, “ I told you I didn’t do it.”

If you enjoyed this post, you'll probably like this blog entry -;)

A Bad Hair Day!

Earlier this year, Daddoo and I were on our way out to a Shawn Mullins concert. He was ready to head out the front door; I was still having a bad hair day!
“Let’s go, your hair looks fine,” he said impatiently, as I stood in front of our bathroom mirror, tweaking and pulling in every direction. Turning to Scrawny, I asked,“Does mommy’s hair look all right?”

She glanced up; stared for a brief second and said,“Uh-huh! All you need is a hat!”