Wednesday, August 26, 2009


I heard all these silly noises and talking. I went to to find Little Man and inquired, "Little Man, what are you doing?"

Little Man: "Making a title sequence."

WHAT?!? I don't even know what that means! Sad, I think my 3 year old is smarter than me!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Kid Talk

Sweetums: "Dad, I really want a new Carrie Underwear CD."

Sweetums (put on huffy voice and grumpy undertones): "Mom, why do we have to do so many chores?"
Pony Girl: "So we don't end up on Clean House."

Little Man: "I am going to Texas tomorrow."
Mr. KIR: "You are? Are you going to fly or drive?"
LM: "I don't have a car to fly in."
Mr. KIR: "Are you going to ride your bike?"
LM: "Dad, I can't ride my bike on the road!"
Mr. KIR: "Are you going to walk?"
LM: "No."
Mr. KIR: "Well, then how are you going to get there?"
LM: "I'm going to drive my green tractor with the trailer on the back. They can go on the road, right?"

Monday, August 17, 2009

Bikini Brownies

I made some yummy zucchini brownies and asked Little Man if he wanted some. His reply: "I like the brownies mom, but not the bikini's in them."

Friday, August 14, 2009

Me cry? The SECOND day of school?

School started yesterday. My girls were NERVOUS!

Sweetums was a slow riser and a very heavy/dead weight object to drag into the building/classroom, but drag I did. I stayed for about ten minutes--much to the teachers dismay but Sweetums delight. (And yes, I was a very aware of the teachers get out of my room looks, but when Sweetums needs me, no look will deter this mother bear! SO look away Mr. Teacher man, look away!)

Pony girl was next to be dropped off. Oh, I'm sorry did I say drop off? What I meant to say was, park my humongous vehicle in the CRAZY psychotic mess of parents pulling up and dropping off and then screeching out of the joint, faculty everywhere telling us where to go and where we COULD NOT go, buses skidding to halts and depositing critters for miles, loud kids EVERYWHERE running hither and thither, orange coned mess. I unbuckled Little man and we happily escorted PG into the building. And YES, I was the ONLY parent in there. And YES, I walked across the entire specifically routed, roped off gym full of before mentioned children/faculty to get to the 4th grade section. And YES, I climbed 40 flights of bleacher steps to sit with my child who insisted on it. And YES, I stood up not two seconds after I sat down as she now had two girlfriends by her and announced that I could depart--which then caused me to have to climb back down the 40 steps, across the roped off section in front of the entire student population, and walk directly in front of the now talking principle, all the while hauling a smiling Little Man along for the experience.WHY? Because my little girl needed me and I was more than happy to oblige!

I went through an all to similar experience during pick-up time. But as I said before. I would do it again if it comforts my girls. Their peace is so worth it!

Today they were both still nervous and wanted me to walk them in. Sweetums' went off without a hitch. PG's on the other hand. Well, it made me cry.

I think PG school drop-off scene is a well functioning mess -- for the experienced-- but for the newbie, not so much. The roads around the school are roped/coned off to aid in the drop off process. The actual car line starts about three blocks away from the actual school doors, and they are in no way letting you in if you for some unknown reason get past the cones on a side street. It is difficult to navigate around and a messy hunt for a parking spot within walking distance. But this morning I got a brilliant idea, I would park and instead of walking her in the front, I would walk her through the side/back doors she would go through if (when) I convince her to ride the bus. Great right? So I drove around the roped off streets, found a great spot on a rather quiet very close to the havoc ridden drop-off scene up front, and parked. This maybe should have warned me of the upcoming trouble...but it did not, I was simply thinking, "I have found the gem of a drop-off spot." Now you may be asking, Mrs. KIR, no one in the 50 bazillion years of the school being open has ever found this treasure? Just you? Don't you think that is odd?" Nope, I did not. So it stands to reason that when we were immediately stopped by two very nice faculty members, I was taken aback. They promptly informed us that drop-off was not allowed in this area--this was strictly a bus zone and cars were not allowed in here. They were so nice about it I simply ho-hummed away. So why did I start crying immediately upon re-entering my vehicle?

Because PG was TICKED! I am talking, walked ahead of me, cussing under her breath about "embarrassing" and "had to do that", and "why can't I just"...MAD! She did not turn to look at me or say goodbye as I deposited her so lovingly in the gym. I walked back to my imperfect parking spot, buckled LM and cried.

I know, I am a wimp, and in serious trouble when teen years hit. I know!

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Case of the mistaken beer

While at the in-laws house, Little Man asked if he could have a soda. I, being the mom ever conscience of health and such, said, "Yes."
He came back with this:I stifled a giggle and informed him that he brought in beer and could not have such a thing.

He left and brought back this:I again mentioned beer and added a tidbit of legal drinking age info. He looked at me and asked, "Well, what CAN I have?"

So I went to the fridge, grabbed the first can of soda I saw and handed it to him. It was this.

I said, "Here kiddo, have a root beer."

Sadly, it took me a minute to figure out why he looked at me with a quizzical, furrowed brow kind of look and asked, "I can have THIS beer?"

Giggle. Gigggggle. Snort. Yep my little man, that beer is okay.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Another Hole? really?

You may be asking yourself, “WHY is she sitting there, taking pictures no less, of Sweetums and Little Man digging ANOTHER hole?”

It’s a sad story really.

See, Pony Girl went to the local county fair.
That is not the sad part...hillbilly-ish yes, but not sad.

She paid $93.00 to play a throw the ping pong ball at three bowls with openings the size of quarters. And if said thrower is lucky enough to get a ball into the bowl, they are the proud winner of a 3 cent gold fish that has been floating helplessly in a ziplock bag of water for two days...most likely without food during said time.

And she won.
Also not the sad part..AMAZING, but not sad.

(That part happens to remind me of the time I gave her 50 cents at Walmart to get candy/junk from the quarter machines that are now 50 cent machines. She asked to play the machine you put your 50 cents into and maneuver a rigged claw to haphazardly grab at junky stuffed animal made in china. You know the "games" that really just get hopes up as the players watch it loosely grab the ear of the animal next to the one they wanted and then crush said hopes when the claw slips carelessly off the prized lost creature, causing tears of misery to said player and then in turn, annoyance to the mother who let them play it in the first place. I of course, gave her the gentle- but firm-talk about “rip offs” and “nothing for something” talk. I also mentioned that it was her choice but the 50 cents was the only money I was giving her. (I’m such a good parent that way.) She promptly ignored me and played anyway. She of course won.)

(Which then reminds me of the time I was a teenager on a road trip with my dad. He was lecturing me on the evils of the “nothing for something” lottery. So I bought a ticket just to tick him off -- and won. Ahhh, good times, good times.)

But I digress...

So, she won this poor little gold fish. She promptly named him Fuego and loved him with all her 9 year old heart–which if you aren’t sure what I am talking about, means : she started at promptly 10:00pm, (the second she walked in the door,) BEGGING whining-ly to keep him in his own private tank in her room because he is just so special. Then, when that didn’t work, she grumpily put him in the family tank and mooned over him until we, the parents of the house/fish tank, threatened to put Fuego in the ivory tank we own so he could rejoin Nemo - unless she got ready for bed immediately. She did... only to sneak out of her room 20 to 30 times that night just to get reminded of the ivory tank we own... (at which she promtly went a runnin’.) The following morning, she awoke rushing to Fuego’s watery home. The ohhhing and ahhhing, bragging, and making younger siblings all over the world cry over their lack of cheap fish ownership begin instantly.

That is not the sad part either..

This however is: He died.

Surprising–I know! I myself was shocked.
But not as shocked as Pony Girl. She was devastated. Oceans were cried. The drought was declared over and flood warnings were spread far and wide. Which in turn caused Sweetums to cry over Freddy, her beloved fish that died a good 9 months ago. Which then caused Little Man to cry because he has never owned a fish that could have died and could have given him the opportunity to cry over. Which then caused one mom to allow two children hole digging privileges.

The funeral was well attended and documented. Fuego was buried near his beloved cousin Freddy. (Well half of his cousin as when the mom of the house helped dig the hole she may have accidentily cut Freddy in half with the shovel...but that is neither here nor there.)