Showing posts from April, 2014

9-year photos

I took the kid to Picture People for nine-year photos. Granted, she doesn't look markedly different than she did a year ago, but I feel compelled to send unsolicited photos of my kid to unsuspecting relatives at least once a year. During the photo shoot, I had flashbacks to when I took her to that same studio when she was two weeks old. She slept through the entire thing. Then there were the toddler years, when she often had tears in her eyes in the photos because she had just pitched a colossal fit in the food court. Now, at the ripe old age of nine, she poses herself and rolls her eyes when I fuss with her hair. Nine years old. Halfway to adulthood. Ai-yi-yi.

Dat's a bargain

The three of us got up this morning and headed to the police department's annual bicycle auction. They round up all of the bikes and stuff that are stolen/found/unclaimed/whatever and put them up for auction. They also have some random household objects and garden gnomes, too. Our goal today was to get a bike for P.  I went to the auction by myself two years ago and got him a basic Schwinn for five bucks. I didn't get him anything fancier because I wasn't convinced he'd ride it. For example, right now we have a family membership at a local gym. In addition to yoga classes at least once a week, I'm typically at the gym twice per week. He's at the gym . . . multiply by 3, carry the 2 . . . um, zero times per week. He hasn't been since before Thanksgiving.  So, I can never be sure what kind of commitment the guy will make.  He has ridden his five-dollah bike a few times - and then complains  how the seat hurts his heinie. Anyway, he wanted to go to the auctio

Hoo boy, that was fun

You know how some people say, "Oh, ha ha! Look at the time! It's 5:00 and I totally forgot to eat lunch!"  And then normal people respond, "Oh, go fuck yourself." Because those people started thinking about lunch as soon as they finished breakfast.  But anywho . . . I skipped all three meals yesterday and not because I wanted to.  I developed a cold on Saturday and then a stomach virus on Sunday. At first I thought it was just my ovarian cysts acting up and being all bitchy because the pain was more pronounced on the right side than the left. Eventually I realized it was a stomach virus instead. Good times, good times.  I took a sick day yesterday, which killed me, because the company doesn't really separate sick days and vacation days.  I seldom take a full day off for sickness because I would prefer to use that time for nefarious purposes later in the year. Anyway, it was a quiet day off. Based on the commercials that air during the day (on a weekday), I

The Obligatory Easter Photos

(This is the part where you nod and smile politely.) Just in case you didn't have enough Easter pictures in your Facebook news feed, here are a few more. The kid was very excited because she got to wear her new shoes today and they have a HEEL on them.  She says the shoes are yellow. I say they are green. I have this feeling like she and I aren't likely to agree on anything again until she is in her 30s. It's cold and rainy today, but we went to church and then out to brunch as per our Easter tradition. We used to go to some of the fancy Easter buffets around town but most are not vegetarian-friendly. I end up paying $16.99 (per person) and then find I'm only able to eat about fifty cents worth of fruit because there is nothing else without dead stuff in it. So, we just went to a regular breakfast joint instead. This afternoon we're just planning to eat candy and waste time playing games on our respective tablets. Yesterday, the kid and I met up with some frie

Behold the glory!

The dogs were so excited that they started shooting lasers out of their eyes! What are you supposed to be admiring, you ask? Why, my new carpet, of course. I worked from home today so that I could be here when the installers came. My other half was not thrilled about getting new carpet because . . . well, new things are bad, I guess. I've never quite understood it. As far as I know, the old carpet was the same age as the house, so 25 years old or so. For now, I just had them do the living room, dining room, one hallway, and a closet. Once this job is paid off, I'll have the bedrooms done. I know, it's all very thrilling. And, I know what you may be thinking: 1. "Wow, Claudia, your new carpet is very exciting! I can't wait to hear about your next dental cleaning."  All in due time, mes amis. All in due time. Or maybe: 2. "My God, it's about time. I'm pretty sure I caught a disease from your carpet last time I was at your house." I

Sewer, Not Sewer

I'm busy preparing for the biggest event of the year - Her Highness' birthday. Now, I must say that there aren't too many occasions on which I'm reminded that my daughter does not carry my DNA around. However, one of those occasions occurred the other day.  The topic of birthday cake came up. "Hey Goober," I said. "What flavor cake should I order for your birthday?"  We're going out of town for her birthday but we're going to take the cake with us. "Vanilla," she responded.  "Vanilla cake with white frosting." "Oh okay. White and white.  No, um, chocolate?"  I glanced at my husband and we exchanged a look that should be translated as what kind of sicko wants a cake with no chocolate in it?   She looked at me like I'd suggested that she eat a cat poop cake with vomit frosting. "Um, no, Mom. JUST VANILLA. That's what I want." So, I dutifully stopped at the bakery yesterday and ordered a

Documentary Junkie

A confession: I love documentaries. Although I happily read (and watch) fiction regularly, it seems that the older I get, the more appeal a true story seems to hold for me. My husband and I share a Netflix account. He fills our queue with low-budget horror movies while my selections are usually a) movies that critics didn't hate and b) documentaries. It's funny to see the look on his face when he opens an envelope from Netflix. He's hoping for "The People Under the Stairs" and instead finds out that it's "March of the Penguins" or something like that. "Oh, it's one of yours ," he says and tosses it onto the table as if it has offended him in some way. Last year we finally started subscribing to HBO . . . mostly because we got it free when we upgraded our cable.  Before too long, I had worked my way through all of the documentaries available through HBO on Demand. I wrote about "American Winter" on my blog a while back. In

There is something wrong with me

I seem to be missing some important social skills. I don't know how or why I failed to acquire them, but it seems that I did. I guess I'll just blame my mom - everything is always the mother's fault anyway, right?  I do remember being taught lots of things.  How to act in a nice restaurant, for example. "Respect your elders."  I still think that's an important one to teach kids.  I remember hearing tongue-in-cheek comments about children being seen and not heard. I was always a goody-two-shoes, though.  My parents seldom had to reprimand me for anything, which left them ill-prepared to handle my sassy middle sister when she came along.  But, that's a whole other story. What I seem to be lacking is some sort of skill that involves being "nice" under all circumstances. I do remember my mother telling me one time that when I'm bored, I should probably try a little harder not to let it show on my face.  I do try to keep that in mind when I'

Party of One

Picture this scenario. If you're a mom, it probably won't be too hard to visualize. Let's say that you spent your Friday night at the grocery store (after a long, challenging week at work). You'd found a recipe online and decided to prepare it for your family. While at the store, you made sure you picked up all of the needed ingredients.  Then, before church on Sunday, you prepared said recipe - a vegetarian casserole - and got it ready for baking. After church, you raced home and got the casserole into the oven. When it was done baking, you called out to your family that lunch was ready.  Your daughter showed up with her iPad and acted offended by the meal.  She proceeded to watch funny cat videos on YouTube. Every few seconds you asked her, "Why aren't you eating?" and she ignored you. This was my afternoon. Irritated that my daughter was being disrespectful, I hopped into the van and drove off.  This weekend brought with it the first decent temperatur

There must be some sort of miscalculation

The other day I received an email from a site called "Circle of Moms."  I have no recollection of signing up for these emails, but I receive at least a hundred emails a day so it's not a big deal. The more the merrier, I guess. Anyway, here is the message I received: Happy 9th birthday to A! Congrats mama! Your little has officially entered the "tween" stage. What the?  She's a tween now?  She still can't even turn on the shower by herself. Twice this week she put on her jacket upside down. She pronounces the word "trolley" like "troe-lee."  She can't be a tween! The kid's birthday is coming up in four weeks. She's been talking about her 9th birthday since her 8th birthday so it's almost anti-climactic when the big day actually arrives.  We only do parties every other year, so this is a non-party year. Why? I don't know. I just don't think kids need to have some big elaborate shindig every year. (I've