May the sixth be with you

AAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!

Anyway.

FORT DAY!

Suzie won the prettiest-fort prize (bowl of ice cream).

Brenda won the coolest-fort prize (bowl of ice cream).

I won 45 minutes of quiet.

And GLORY GLORY GUMDROPS we're enjoying lovely weather here.

milking pedestals

So let's talk about Garret.

Everybody loves Garret.

You have to love Garret.

Anybody who would say "meh, that kid's no good" is a turd.

It's not even my rule!  It's a societal rule that people with mental handicaps are treated with a certain awe and sweetness.  These kids, by natural law, are put on a pedestal!  Not that everyone respects this law, but no one, with any class, would publicly insult someone like Garret. 

Isn't it great?

Yup.  You have to be sweet to my Garret.

Or you're a turd.

Now I, on the other hand, get some slack.  As the heroic parent, I get some wiggle room to be "taxed" by my child.  I get to complain a bit, within reason.  Like, when Garret throws a yogurt cup into my bedroom, flinging yogurt across the laundry, my bed, the computer and on the ceiling...   Yeah, I get some leeway to not be enamored with the boy.

I get to rag on my precious child 'cause dang, what a jerk, am I right?

Don't answer that.  You can't say that.

Yup.

You have to buoy me up because Garret is amazing and I am amazing for being his mommy.

Yup Yup.

This seems like a strange thing to be ...bragging? about, but I get away with this because we (the parents) are put on the pedestal also.

Hey down there!  Somebody go get me more yogurt!   
 ...all you non-pedestal people shuffle around to get me yogurt while saying "she's so brave, she's so strong, what a blessed family!"...

haha!

Garret, by nature, is on the pedestal and us parentos are on it by default!

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To be honest, I've never been very comfortable with the "revered-Garret-parent" approach I get.  Not because I'm humble.  Good grief, we all know that's not it.  But because I'm too aware that I abuse my pedestal.  I get away with crap like a messy house, a lazy day, a cancellation because I'm too tired...  (Maybe I could have slept more.  Maybe Garret wasn't pouncing on me all night, but I was reeeeally into a Netflix marathon...)

So don't let me get away with junk.  Don't let me milk my pedestal.   

Heck, don't you see the pedestal you're standing on?  

You're so brave and strong and blessed...

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In conclusion, Garret IS amazingly difficult and wonderful, like all kids.  -just in different ways.  And you better be sweet to him or, well, ...you know what you are.

...I get to say that 'cause I'm his momma.

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P.S.  While running errands today Brenda took it upon herself to hold Garret's hand, help him into the car and hand him snacks.  She was very concerned about his well-being.  ...Then we get home and it's "I HATE GARRET!  HE LICKED MY LEGOS!  GAAAARRRRRET!!!"

P.P.S.  And just so I don't end this post on that note, Brenda also does the perfect Garret-sounds impression.  She'll perform when someone needs instructions on Garret-communication and she's quite serious about it.  

Grand-stinkin' adorable.

haha ...blueteeth

I don't understand Google "circles".  I "joined" Google Plus and then left it like I leave plants in the yard.  Alright you weird dimension of which I do not understand ...you're on your own!  Well, obviously I've done something with it since I have 21 followers and over 280 THOUSAND views.  What is that?  What does it MEAN?  ...Am I famous?  Is 280 thousand a piddly number in the Google "circles"?  What is a view?  Is this a Plus view?  Are you viewing me???

What is Tumblr?  I don't get Twitter.  I blame Obama for all the Linked-in emails.  Pinterest is the bomb, but vine scared the bajeezas out of me. 

Don't let your kids vine.  Just don't.

And while I'm admitting how unhip I am, why hashtags???  I am yet to get a satisfying answer.   

Unless it's Jimmy Fallon we're discussing and he's sharing hashtag stories.  Yes, I get those hashtags and I enjoy them very much.

Is 36 too young to say in my day?  Because in my day we had sparrows carrying our correspondence.  ...Or was it swallows?

Today you've got 87,000 ways to tell the world what you had for lunch.

I can't keep up.

This is not meant to be an inspiring post that says put your phone down and connect with your children.  (In fact, I disagree with the harsh comments about parents sitting on their phones while their kids play on the playground.  In my day, my mom took us kids to the park so she could visit with her friends.  We played without a hovering parent and she got some social time.  WIN WIN.)  ...I'm typing this post out because I've got a sweet pic of my kids on our walk today.

I used instagram to make the pic look charming, emailed the shot to my computer, photoshopped my crop, will be posting to blogger and then I'll make sure all my Facebook friends hear about it.

Yeah, I do stuff.

So here's the pic.

The day was gorgeous and the river was begging for some rocks.

Was it worth all that rambling?

#hipstermom

cat seduction

I'm wearing Garret's socks today.  Are men socks just made thicker?  My feet are so cushy.

Today while doing chores I watched a documentary on the Oscars.  Since I was alone in the house it was only natural that I worked on my own acceptance speech.  I'd wear something comfortable and bright green.  My award would be for the making of a documentary and just like Mr Moore I would shout at the president, but not forget to send love to my family.  (My documentary was about special-needs classrooms and the angels that work there.  ...It was awesome, as my Oscar clearly validates.)

Garret has figured out how to turn on the xbox (our source of dvds and Netflix).  The other night I was up all night with him and it worked out well that when his movie ended he would tap that button and the "whom-whom" sound would wake me from my snooze.  He watched Babe a couple times, then on to Star Wars.  With each movie beginning he'd giggle and gargle and cuddle on the couch to show his approval, which is adorable, until he gets bored and decides to knock the tv over and empty my purse into the sink...  ahhh wet tuna...

Brenda is obsessed with Just Dance and will entertain anyone with an awkward YMCA or Lady Gaga.  She may not be much of a dancer (like her mom) but she makes up for it with enthusiasm (like her mom?).  THANK GOODNESS she isn't genetically predisposed to play Frozen's Let it Go over and over and over again.  ...She thought it was a bit boring, actually, and got back into Happy, by Pharrell. 

Suzie struggles in her social life.  Learning that being bossy, loud and belligerent doesn't give you friends is a lesson she may be learning forever more.  How much do I put up a protective barrier around her vs. let her experience reality?  There's value and responsibility in both options.  ...Typical parent conundrum?  She is a go-getter tho.  That girl will move mountains whether they like it or not. 

I wouldn't actually shout at the president while accepting my Oscar.  I'd find a more practical use of my 30 seconds.  ...I'd beg Michael Keaton to do another Beetlejuice movie. 

So Mike is constantly working on his game collection.  (Board and card games)  Mike's a strategist who easily wins while I'm still holding my orange token at the start, wondering what just happened.  He knows not to go easy on me.  Oh, he knows not to DARE do that.  ...I have won a few games.  And when I do I probably give him reason to leave me as I gloat and prance and OWN the room.  Or perhaps he's the more obnoxious one as he calmly explains his victory with a simple shrug?  So smug.

The last game of San Juan simply wasn't fair.  I know life isn't fair, but that draw deck hates me.  I'm delightful!  It's just absurd, is what it is.

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Why am I still typing?  This post never even had a point and the cat wants to cuddle.  Mario is a terrifying cat until he's sleepy.  Then he wants to make-out and sleep on my neck.   If I let him he'll zonk out with his nose on my chin.  ...Wouldn't believe this is the same cat that made children cry earlier today.  Oh, he's giving me the "come-hither" look...

looking forward to a mature and sophisticated 2015

There's this awkwardness when I haven't blogged in a while.

A loss for words.

...

But let's shake that off and get going, shall we?

Hi!

Happy New Year!

Another January 1st passed and I still don't like a glossy, kitten-covered calendar telling me to make resolutions.  I'll set goals when the moment calls for it mkay?  But no hard feelings Calendar.  Let's still be friends so I don't get up early on no-school days.  That's the WORST.

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...

Wanna know what we got to do?  (besides take grammar lessons...)

 Beach trip with friends! 

And after about 28 hours playing games, eating junk, frolicking on the sand, riding carts thru Goodwill and experimenting with camera panoramas, they STILL want to hang out with us!

Ya gotta hold on to folks that are ok with your weirdness.

Ya gotta hooooooooooold on!  (Alabama Shakes song.  -which after hearing it performed on SNL I scampered to iTunes and with a flick of my finger IT WAS MINE.  ...Then the cruel reality of tv rules came crashing down with a couple F bombs.  FFFFFFLIP FLAP FLEABAG!  ...song came off with a sad ffffflick of my finger.)

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Wanna know what else?

The Suz is 6!

Six years old and I still haven't mastered control.  She should be old enough to know that I am queen.  After all, she understands the royalty of princesses.  Queens are just a step up.  It's elementary my dear princess.  She is a quirk with a bubble tush who enjoys manipulating Brenda into a frenzy and turning on the sugar when she wants chocolate milk.  As far as I can tell she is loving kindergarten but alas, she doesn't like to share much.  It's her world and her princess nose sticks up when I ask.  -Like school is her own special thing and she'll let me know about it as she sees fit.  But hey, she's reading, doing math and occasionally talking like a valley girl so business as usual, right?  I have found that if I pretend to think ridiculous things go on at school (shark-riding, pants-eating, butterfly-kissing) she'll pity me and give me the real skinny on school.

...I'm awesome.



Speaking of me, I got myself an early bday present.


A hair straightener.

And while you're composing yourself, check this out-

I'm not vain like the rest of the selfie-ers out there and I show it by doing a non-duck face, but still a silly face that makes it seem like I don't care when really I'm thinking, 'hey, I look good- look at me look at me!' but you wouldn't know that by my face, right?  THIS is the face of a cool chick who doesn't care ...but really does and wants compliments.  But not really.  I'm too mature, as this picture clearly shows...

ummmmmm...

It's late and Darcy got me hooked on the show Blacklist.  I'll have to squeeze in an episode before responsibly going to bed at 1:30 am.  Being the excellent friend that I am, I should send her frantic, plot-twist texts just to keep her up with me. 

favorites

The truth is that parents DO have a favorite child.  Yes they do.  And how it works is that the favorite child changes throughout the day.  Last night, from 7 pm to 8 pm, my favorite child HANDS DOWN was Brenda.  Garret came in second by sitting so still and quietly for that hour, only to start having a fit the moment the hour was up.  Perfect timing Garret!  You get second place.  Suzie, by default, was third.  Not that she was bad, but I can blame some blurry pictures on her insistence of sitting on my lap.  (She made up for it later with some adorable made-up jokes about elephants in her nose...)

7 pm was the grade school Christmas program.  (Well, it was called the Winter program but we be all about Christmas on this blog.)  Weeks ago, my daughter threw in her hat for the part of the train conductor in The Polar Express (aka Tom Hanks, in the movie) and was voted in by her peers. 

MY DAUGHTER WAS TOM HANKS. 

Her handful of lines were delivered confidently, completely memorized and with the passion of a Brenda.   Which, as everyone knows, should be a thing.  ...the passion of a Brenda.  Like, when someone accepts an Oscar award, or sings the national anthem, or keys an ex's car ...with the passion of a Brenda.

I could have jumped from my seat and shouted SHE'S MINE! but I decided to save that arrogance for the blog.  Plus, it would have been a shame to detract from her climactic moment of exclaiming-

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

And after all that, I got to hold her hand and walk her out of the building.  It felt like being escorted by Elvis.  ...I imagine. 

'Cause my favorite Brenda is a STAR.