Christmas, It's Just A Trip Up 295 and Over The Bridge

The other day, I was snuggling in close to Gracie on the sofa. She looks at me so intent, so sweet and she says, "Mommy? Is Christmas gone forever?" I chuckle to myself a little and answer her the best way that I could think of at that moment and reply, "No, honey. It's not gone forever. It's just not Christmastime now."
"Oh." She says and thinks on that for a moment. She then asks, "Well, when will it be Christmastime again?" I say to her, "Well, it's Spring now. Christmas is in the winter. Christmas is far away."
"Oooooohhhh." she says again. By George, I think she's got it. Her eyes get all wide and I can see that she understands now. "So Christmas is far away. Like New Jersey?"

May The Farm Be With You

Someone sent this to me today & it's just too good.

Jug-gernaut

Early Tuesday morning and I am getting dressed slowly, wearily.
That three day weekend we just had went way too fast.


I'm in a trance-like state.
My eyes are open.
It looks as if I am watching the Today show while I slide on my jeans
and look from left to right as I find my shirt.
But I'm not yet awake.


The kids flutter about.
In and out of the room.
Here and there.
Up and down.
Under foot, over foot.

They are entirely too alert for this ungodly hour
and their presence of mind is just beginning to piss me off when I hear...


Hey, Mom! Look! I just found a really cool catapult.

I groggily turn from the TV to the floor where my eldest sits. As he holds his latest prized possession in his hands. He's moving it all about, trying to figure out how to get it to work.
I begin to chuckle despite myself and I reply with...

That's not a catapult, Connor. That is mommy's bra. Can I please have it so I can finish getting dressed?


He was crestfallen that I had just taken away his means of entertainment.
I'm not sure how I feel about wearing something that he considers large enough to call a catapult.

Teach Your Children Well

Set the scene:
Late Saturday evening, after we all came back home from a grown-up time in Baltimore and the kids having grandparent time. Rav & I begin bedding down for the night.

We were chatting and canoodling and just generally being cutesy before bed.

And Action!
We heard Connor get out of bed and make his way into the bathroom.
We stopped our little flirtation to listen and we heard Connor began to expell his stream.
And as this happened there was an unusual um, tone to it.
We both look at each other and mirrored identical looks and passed identical thoughts:
That doesn't sound good.

Rav jumps up and heads into the hallway to find a stream of pee followed by a puddle.

The stream is making it's way from the doorway of the chilun's bedroom, making a vast arc, and collecting in a pool on the hallway floor.

There is our son, with his pants around his ankles in all his glory.
Really, there was nothing left to do but let him finish at that point.

Rav asks Connor with a hint of exasperation and alarm in his voice
Buddy!? What are you doing?!
To which Connor replies as he begins to sob a little
Gracie told me to do it!!!!

Meanwhile, Gracie is entrenched in slumber.

Rav cleans things up as I sit laughing from the bed.
This did not amuse him at all.
And obviously, it wasn't the bathroom that we heard Connor walking to. Just his doorway which in his dazed state must resemble a toilet.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunday we made our way down to see Three Dog Night Dad, Eileen, and my brothers.
Half-way there, Connor says to me
Mom. I didn't know that your brothers were around when Mimi and Pop-Pop were married.

I said They weren't around Connor. I was the only one.
Curiousity grips him firmly and he says
Well how did Uncle Kenny & Uncle Ian become your brothers?

I explained plainly Well. When Mimi & Pop-Pop were done being married, Pop-Pop met Mom-mom and married her.....
and as I begin to explain that my brothers are my brothers because we share the same dad, Connor breaks in with this:

OH!!!! I see. It was a switch-off marry.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Connor comes home from school on a daily basis with a worksheet that is broken down into two parts. The top part has four empty boxes to draw in and the bottom part is where the practice the letter they are working on that day.

Yesterday, the class worked on the letter 'T'.

I saw that he had drawn a turtle.

He had even written our last name, which has two T's in it.

He drew a train.

And the last picture was less recognizeable.

I ask Connor to identify for me the picture he had drawn.

He clucked a little and says It's a toilet!!!

Apparently I Am The Queen Mum

Last night, I got approximately 1.4 hours of sleep.

I have a cold that is sticking it to me where the sun don't shine.

And it is that reason that I did not sleep last night.

Oh, how I wished that I did not have to shower, get dressed, drive to work and put on a happy face for my cute little preschoolers.

I just wanted to stay in bed.

Scratch that.

It wasn't necessarily that I wanted to stay in bed.

I needed to stay in bed.

Alas, I got dressed and waited for the day to get started.

I was taking care of some last minute curriculum planning this morning when the phone rings.

And it's Rav.

He is on his way to drop Gracie off at my in-laws to be cared for while we work.

Rav says You want to hear something funny?

I think to myself: as long as it's funny a la it's actually Saturday morning and we've all gotten our days screwed up, which means I can go back to bed. That's the only funny I want to hear.

But that would be mean to tell him to shove it.

So I say Yeah, I guess. (which is oh, so much better)

He says So, we're in the car and I say to Gracie 'Who is my most special girl?' And she says, 'ME!!!'. And then I say to her 'Are you my princess?'. To which she replies 'No. No I am not a princess! You can just call me Queen.'

I laugh genuinely and say Oh, no. That is just no good.

Rav says Yeah. I thought I'd just share that with you so we both know what we're up against.

True dat.

The Art of Calling 'Em Like You See 'Em

My daughter has recently become very interested in other little girls.

So when she sees them when we're out at the store, waiting to pick Connor up from school, or walking by our house she waves enthusiastically and says hello.

Seems rather harmless, right?

It even seems a bit nice.

I should be proud that my little girl is so friendly.

I am. Really.

Until.....

The other night the famiglia de Ravioli was heading out to pick up a dress that my BFF's daughter was lending me for that wedding we attended on Saturday.

We were walking out the door and as we are doing so, Gracie spots two girls walking down the sidewalk in front of our house.

Like the sweet little darling she is, she is waving at them like there is no tomorrow and saying Hi!!!! (she's so enthusiastic about this)

The older of the two girls (in her teens) smiles, laughs and says Hi.

Gracie is so enthusiastic, remember.

She is still waving and saying hi.

But she hasn't heard a response from the younger girl. Only the older girl.

The younger girl is wearing a black eye patch.

We've seen her before in the neighborhood and she is always wearing the eye patch.

So Gracie in all of her waving enthusiasm says

Hi!!!!!

Hi, pirate!!!!!

I quickly scoot her over to the car, where I commence doubling over and try to stifle fits of laughter.

Because it was so wrong.

And she didn't mean to be.

But she was.

Rav caught on to what happened (he's a quick one, my man).

And we're both caught in a fit of laughter that is probably considered inappropriate.

But what are we to do?

The kids catch on to what we are laughing at.

And the entire way down to my BFF's house we hear from the back seat, in unison

Hi!!!!!

Hi, pirate!!!!

Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

As you know, I've been struggling for content. And a silly little story came to mind that I thought I would share.
Picture it.
Delaware.
2007.
In an elementary classroom about 20 families squeeze in the hot, cramped art room.
Some sit down at tables.
Some stand around the perimeter of the room.
They are all there to take interest in pre-reading for their soon-to-be kindergartners.
As the princpal addresses the families, the famiglia de Ravioli is hanging in the back.
The kids in seats at the table.
The parents propping themselves up against the counter.
The kids are behaving.
The parents are listening.
And then their daughter......she makes her presence known.
Their daughter dressed in her little pink and purple plaid halter dress and her Janna's.
She couldn't look more like a little girl if she tried.
She is sitting primly in her seat, staring straight ahead at full attention, listening to the principal.
And then. Then.
She busted one.
A loud one.
She turns to her parents, who despite themselves and their daughter are giggling and laughing up a storm, she beams a beautiful smile and says Ooops! I tooted!!
Yes, Jess. I even detected a mighty wind. As mighty as it could be coming from a 3 year old.

And that brings me to the song for this week.
It's pretty standard.
But it always makes me happy to hear it.
Enjoy!

Wrestling and Words

talking on the phone with the Administrative Assistant who is setting up the arrangements for the new employee orientation, questions were asked. Questions like:

when will we find out exactly what our schedule will be?
what is the attire for training? is there a "uniform" to be worn?

The answer to the 2nd question was: the dress is business-casual for training, but there are days where you will be permitted to wear jeans and there will be days you need to come in sweats. they'll let you know. the days you have to wear sweats are the days where you will be rolling around on the floor doing take-downs.

A Cheshire-cat-grin spread across her face upon hearing "take downs". Oh, she was familiar with them. She has seen her husband do quiet a few of them. She's even attempted a few take-downs during their mock wrestling lessons on the livingroom floor.

The call ended and she shared the information with him.

She feigned worry. i can't do this shit. really. i can't.

he beamed. yes, you can. i'm an all-state wrestler, remember? and you've taken me down plenty of times when we were wrestling. you'll be great. you'll do fine. you'll tear it up. just remember, if you're the best in the class you'll probably end up with the better schedule. and i know you'll be the best in the class. you've got it going on. you're awesome.

yeah. she said.
i know it's true. i just feels good to hear it sometimes.

he throws his head back in laughter. he takes her in his strong arms and kisses her on top of her head. he pulls back and looks deep within her eyes, with a sparkle in his and says

and that is why i love you.

At Your Service

The other morning, while most of the East Coast was adrift in peaceful slumber, I made my way downstairs to try to take care of some much important and overdue blogging (lurking, commenting, reading - you know, that stuff).

A few minutes later, Connor comes down the stairs.
His hair standing up in all kinds of wild angles.
And I chuckle to myself as I watch him stumble over to the couch. His eyes are barely open.
He wraps himself in blankets.
And he says Mom? Will you turn on Cartoon Network?
I think maybe it might help lull him back to sleep. So I say Yeah, I'll put on Cartoon Network.
And he says You're good at service.
I laugh and ask him Why do you say that? What does service mean?
He says Well, you do some of the things that I like and some of the things that I ask you to do. And that is service. And you're good at service.

I was completely amused by all of this. The fact that he's trying on new vocabulary & working out the definitions.
Part of me though, is worried that I'm raising a club-weilding caveman.

Welcome to Stanley's World - a Guest Post by Rav

I knew when Grace was born, that someday, I would have to worry about boys coming around. I knew that there are boys out there, that I would rather she not meet. I knew that I would have my hands full in keeping these boys away from her. I also knew that Connor, being so close in age to her, would certainly help me. Finally, I knew that since she was so young, I had many years until I had to worry about it. But last night, I received the shock of a lifetime. As I walked up the stairs, and passed my children's room, I saw something out of the corner of my eye....

That's right, it's my man Stanley! That rat bastard. The dirty Cad. And then I looked closer...

Are you smirking at me? You son of a bitch. But where is Connor? He was supposed to be helping me out........

Sleeping on the job!

While I Get My Thoughts In Order

I've touched on a subject that I feel, for others and myself, is relevant. It's a subject that I feel needs to be brought to the forefront for many reasons. And while I organize my thoughts for further posts this week, I just want to share a sampling of Connor's musings.




A few weeks ago:
{Connor} Mom?

{Me} Yes.

{Connor} Who is Al Capone?

{Me} (thinking) WTF?!?!


Some weeks ago:
{Connor} Mom?

{Me} Yes?

{Connor} Who were the Vikings?

{Me} (thinking) GAH!!!

Sunday:
*as we're getting out of the car in the grocery store parking lot*
{Connor} Mom! I saw another green car just like our car. That car was a clone. Sometimes cars are clones.

{Me} Yes, Connor. Did you see a car that looked like ours? How do you know what a clone is?

{Connor} Because I'm smart.

{Me} Oh, yes you are. How do you know you're smart?

{Connor} Because I'm smart.

Last night:
{Connor} Mom? What keeps my brains stuck on the inside?

{Me}(touching my skull) Feel that hard part of your head Connor. Do you feel it? Do you feel how hard that is?

{Connor} Yes. I feel it.

{Me} Well, that is your skull. That is what keeps your brain inside of your head.

{Connor} Oh. Yeah! And my brain is BIG!


Today. About 30 minutes ago.
{Connor} Mom! I cast a spell on the sink and the dishes are being washed.

{Rav} Connor, please go downstairs and turn off the sink.

{Me} Connor, what spell was that?

{Connor} I don't know. I can't remember.

(he comes back up the stairs from turning off the sink)

{Connor} Mom! I cast a spell and it turned on the TV!

{Me} Oh yeah? What spell was it?

{Connor} Turnonmagora.

Well, Slap My Ass And Call Me Generous

I have never nominated anyone for a Perfect Post Award or a ROFL Award. Nor have I participated in Jen and Mad's Just Post Awards.
It's not that I don't want to.
It's not that I don't read amazing things that fall into any of these categories.
It's simply because I read so much that fits into those categories
AND
mainly because
I'm a slacker.

Somehow though, this month I managed to do a wee bit of nominating.
I've popped my nominating cherry so-to-speak.
And there is no one else I'd rather do that with than Kevin Charnas.
The guy is grab-your-oxygen-mask-and-put-on-your-depends funny.
I nominated his 'Afraid To Move' post. Because well, it was funny. And it stuck with me so that I had an inexplicable dream about Kevin, me, and something to do with that post.

Go on over and visit Chicky Chicky Baby and Metro Mama and check out all of the funny stuff. If you feel anything like me today, you could use a good chuckle.

Are you still here?
GO, sillies! Get your laugh on.

Weird Speak

I know everyone has cute kids. And I know other people's cute kids say things cute and/or funny. But nothing compares to the cute and/or funniness of your own semi-sometimes cute kids. Here's a brief list of my kids' weird speak:

Connor:
If he asks for worm noodles with stinky cheese, he is asking for elbow macaroni with Locatelli (Pecorino Romano) on them.
If he is asking for stretchy noodles, he is asking for angel hair pasta.
If he asks to go to the green store he is asking to go to Target (because the greatland on the sign is in green, nevermind the fact that Target is known for Red).
If he asks to go to Mimi's Wal-mart, that is the Wal-mart in the hick town of Elkton near where my mother lives.
If he asks for brown ketchup, he is asking for A-1 steak sauce.
If he is asking for a black cookies, he is asking for Oreos.
If he asks you about your bumbos, run away with your arms across your chest, for he is inquiring after your Ta-tas.
If he asks for chicken meals, he is asking for chicken nuggets.

Gracie:
Mank You - that would be (surprise, surprise) Thank You.
Pick-a-minkle - that would be Periwinkle from Blue's Clues.
Bub-ohs! - that would be bubbles.
Yinoculars - Binoculars.
And we can't forget her eye-talian speak when she says, Ah bump-ah my head. Which is eye-talian Gracie speak for "I bumped my head".
If she asks to listen rolling up the wall, she is asking to listen to "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse.

Watch baby kids sprout - She wants to watch PBS Kids Sprout.

I have a buzzy in ah-my head. - She has a fuzzy in her hair.

I know these things are nothing special really. That every family with a kid running around in it or had a kid running around in it at one time has this type of thing to share.
But they are my kids. So that sets them apart. And it makes me smile.

When Horizontal Parenting Goes Awry

It's Saturday morning. The weather is beautiful. And we're all lazing about. Taking the day in stride. Rav & I are trying to decide what to do with the kids today. He is horizontal on the couch. I am vertical in the computer chair - which is not much of an improvement over the horizontal position. We leave the kids doing this:

They are coloring peacefully together. Connor even referred to them being twins. All seems right with the world. Rav & I decide to take our conference upstairs to the private confines of the bedroom. It seems our agendas were different. I wanted to get down to the business of deciding our activities for the day and well, Rav wanted to get down to busy-ness. Determined CEOE ( Chief Executive of Everything) that I am, I was not having it. So, he relents. And we just lay in each other's arms and not making decisions. Just enjoying the quiet moment together.

Hmmm. It is very quiet. And then........

Connor & Gracie come bounding up the stairs. There is electric excitement in those heavy footsteps and lilts in their voices. And I know we're in for it.

The view from the horizontal parenting position:

What is that square with the lines on his belly, you ask?

Skeleton bones, Connor replies.

I know Jess at OTJ would be so proud of our horizontal parenting skills.

As I type this Rav is bathing the fruits of my children's artistic labor off of their bodies. And probably wondering where in the hell I am.

Maybe we should take the kids to an art museum today.

Straight Off The Boat

My daughter.
God love her.

I believe her genes are saturated with Rav's Italian genes. Rav's paternal grandfather & his family were straight off the boat from Florence. Rav's mom is of Irish descent. As am I - among the English & possibly Scott on my dad's side....and straight German and Dutch on my mom's.

If you heard Gracie talk, you'd be amazed she's not straight eye-talian. She says things like:

*I bump -ahmyhead.

*I wanna sit nex-ahtoyouuuuu.

*I need-ahthecrayon.

*Leave the gun. Take the cannoli. (Just kidding on that one)

And my typing these things does it absolutely no justice.
It is rip roaringly funny. I'd like to find an old Italian man - with an accent and listen to them talk to each other. Because the way she talks is extraordinary. She's got.it.down. Not to mention she's loud & has the hand gestures down.
No, not those hand gestures.

Now if I can just get her to make a good gravy (pasta sauce - not gravy), we'll be good to go.

The Poet

Last night in our bed, as Rav was settling into near-sleep & I was winding down in front of The Tube, a commercial came on for Empire Carpets' Wood flooring. I assume this is a national commercial that you all have seen. For those not schooled, Empire Carpets' deal is that they are quick to lay some carpet or wood/laminate flooring upon being hired.

While listening to the lovely serenade that is the Empire Carpet commercial (in which they boast of quality hardwood flooring), I'm sure now that Rav is drifting closer to the brink of what is known as dreamland.
I am caressing his stomach and getting dangerously close to his what-not. In fact, there might have even been a slight brush with danger.

And still Empire Carpet is singing it's hardwood floor praises.

Rav, never even opening his eyes, straight-faced and ever so cooly says:
How would you like some quality hard wood?

This is what I love about him. Total cheeseball humor and timing that is impeccable.
However, quality hardwood was not on my wish list late last night.

Maybe tonight.

You Know You Have Problems When....

You have to do the following google search and then land at my blog:

How to enter the penius into the virginia.

Yes, folks. Someone actually did that search....with that spelling....and landed here.

That penius better check with Virginia before anything happens. She might not be looking for a penius.

Or for that matter, the whole state of Virginia better watch out. Don't bend over today. Don't uncross your legs. You just might look down to see a collective penius trying to enter a collective state of Virginia.

Good times.
Good times.

Kick Me When I'm Down

As if 24+ hours alone by myself with a sick 2 1/2 year old girl wasn't bad enough......

As if 24 + hours alone with the above said and a boy with an attention addiction wasn't bad enough.....

As if being alone with the above said isn't bad enough, then in the middle of trying to prepare a meal for the two above said, your son informs you he's pooped in his pants. Water is boiling, things are baking (and burning), you go up to clean him up, dump the dump in the toilet, flush and YAY!!!
Because your son tends to withhold because of issues with dumping his dump in the toilet, this big ball of dump refuses to flush.
Can I get another YAY!!!!! ?
Son is standing there with crap pasted to the insides of his legs, you're desperately spinning in circles trying to find the plunger as the water and soggy bits of shredded toilet paper teeter precariously close to the rim of the toilet bowl.

Eureka! The Plunger!!!
You strategically plant the plunger around the edges of this insanely huge dump-ball, so as not to implant the plunger in it's mass. You heave and push down, waiting to hear that comforting sound of the big GURGLE that ensures this will all be over soon. Otherwise, you have to resort to cutting this up with a plastic knife and fork
Dinner, anyone???
Speaking of dinner.....it's cooking itself in the kitchen, amazingly enough.
Pretty soon, you'll upgrade from Plumber to Fire Fighter quicker than you can say Poo.

As if all that wasn't bad enough....
You're sick with the nasty beast of a cold you're daughter so lovingly shared.

And if that's not bad enough.....
Aunt Flo has come to town.

Great.
Wonderful.

The cosmic forces just love you, Tab.
Remember: this is divine.
I've heard myself say it. It's in black & white.
Stupid.

An Addition

(To the previous post....)

As I sit here wasting away the day in front of the computer, Gracie walks up to me with a tissue in her hand. She offers me her outstretched hand with a tissue in it. I look at her and see the tell-tale green gunk oozing from her cute, fat, little toddler nostrils. And just for good measure she also has added a shining, shimmering streak of snot across her cheek. I see she needs some help. And like the smart woman I am, I grab the tissue. Big Mistake.

It's slimey. And it's on my hands. I sling this nasty tissue to the ground and shout: Eeeww!!!!!
Gracie giggles and blows a big snot bubble and says Mommy! (giggle, giggle) It's ok. It's just boogers.

Yeah, sure is boogers, kid. And one thing you need to learn about your mommy ASAP is that she has issues with bodily fluids. Whether they be from vegetable, animal or mineral. Take that stuff somewhere else. It grosses mommy out! I have no problem touching a dry tissue and wiping your funky nose. But there should be absolutely no contact between the wet secretions of your nose and my tender, sweet flesh.

It's just boogers.
Yeah. Keep walking, kid.

Bittersweet Symphony

Rav left yesterday afternoon to head down state to the State Wrestling Tournament. I'm sad to see him go (he won't be home 'til late tonight, which is no biggie), but I'm elated at the fact that the wrestling season will be officially over. Yeeeehaw.

You have to understand that we somehow got Gracie to school 2 days a week (1/2 hour away), Rav to work, to wrestling practice, back to work, home, then me to school and so on (until 2 weeks ago) with one car. Yes. You heard me correctly. One.Car. It was a constant juggling act. And as much as I am happy that Rav is happy with coaching, it's nice to see the loooooong season come to a close. I digress though.

The kids are each coming down with a lovely dose of green snot, mixed with raspy breathing, coughing and fevers. And of course this decides to blow up into a full-blown deal when Rav has flown the coop.

At 10 p.m. when the kids were still awake, barely breathing and all snotty, I knew I was in for a looong, rough night. I finally get them to bed, get myself to bed at about 11. At some point, the kids both made it into our bed. By that time, Gracie was running one nasty fever. I couldn't bear to head to the couch. So, I was nestled in restless sleep, in a horizontal position at the foot of our bed. While the babes slept somewhat soundly in vertical positions, stretched out, with their heads on the pillows.

At approximately 7:15, I was awoken to the sounds of their deep breathing. Followed by the occasional snort and raspy exhale.

Morning routines being what they are, I felt the need to expel some built up gas. Which sounded something like this:
squeak.


Then Gracie in her sleep-induced state followed with a:
toot.

Connor added the crescendo to this little symphony with a rolling, undulating, vibrating:
Toot!

Their father would be so proud.

What struck me as funny is that I was the only one awake. They did this, seemingly as if on cue. Like it was a game. I was waiting for them to giggle after each of them sang their morning songs. But nope.
Asleep. Dead asleep.

Aaaaah. Nothing like the smell of pent up gas in the morning.
Bittersweet.