So, how was it, everybody? Did you all survive Christmas? I'm going to need some time to recuperate. I tried to cram way too much into too short of a time, and also tried to cram way too much into my mouth. But of course, that's not much different than any other day. I'm only slightly fatter than I was last week, so that's good. I can't remember the last time I felt so desperately in need of a vacation. It's been a hectic month.
My mom came to visit last Sat. and left today. It was really nice having her here and I wish she could've stayed longer, although she was probably about to pull her hair out putting up with all of us these past few days. It's a major adjustment to go from living alone in peace and quiet, with nobody to worry about except 2 dogs, to staying in a house of 8. There is NEVER quiet here. NEVER. An afternoon with us is enough to make an alcoholic out of anybody, I don't care who ya are (not meant to suggest my mom ever was, is currently or plans to become an alcoholic. I'm just saying...).
She heard a LOT of this:
Hey, Nana. Nana. Hey. Nana, wanna hear somethin', Nana? Hey. I know a joke Nana. I made it up. Wanna hear it, Nana? Hey, Nana? You're still gonna do that puzzle with me, right? Nana. I'm ready to start it right now, Nana. Hey, Nana. Guess what my mom said not to tell you, Nana- Oh, look at that, Nana. The dog just threw up on the floor. Can you stay here with us longer, Nana? Don't you wish you could, Nana? Huh? Hey. Nana- I taught myself how to play "Heart-Shaped Box" on my electic guitar. Wanna hear it? Here- let me turn up my amp. This one's "Sweet Home Alabama." Oh, thanks. Can you tell what this one is? Nana! Polar Express is on! Sit by me, Nana! NO!! She's going to sit by me! She said. Uh-huh. Yes she did. Nana? Didn't you just say you're going to sit by me? See? She did. OK then- can I sleep with you tonight, Nana, since I can't sit by you during the movie? Nana? Do you smell that smell, Nana? HEY! You little kids get out of here, we're gonna play Madden 08 on the big TV. Yuh-huh. OH YES WE ARE. OUT, NOW! Dad said. Yes, he did. Did too. Go ask. See? Nana, wanna watch us play Madden 08? Do you know how to play, Nana? Where are you going? Hey. Nana? I think you just stepped in the dog vomit, Nana. Can I come in there with you? Why are you crying, Nana? Why are you locking the bathroom door and sobbing, Nana? Hey, Nana? ...Mom, I think something's wrong with Nana. I think I just heard Nana say a bad word. Again.
"Mom?" I say, as I tap on the bathroom door. "Mom. Hey. Mom. Mom. Hey, Mom?"
On the night we picked her up, Brianna started repeating something in the car she'd heard in a Christmas movie that mentions "Herod, King of the Jews." So she loudly blurts out, "You can all just call me 'Bribee of the Jews." This comes out of nowhere, mind you (and for those of you who haven't experienced the joys of parenting yet, it is a rule that it will always come out of nowhere, at a time and place that will cause maximum parental embarrassment, and in front of the last person you'd want around to witness it. Write it down. You have been warned.). My mom got this scowl on her face that I recall seeing several times during my childhood which was typically a precursor to something- oh... we'll just say -*unpleasant* about to take place in my future. She goes, "Ooooookay," in a tone that immediately made me think, "Cr*p. I'm in trouble." It was a tone that sounded like she was thinking, "What are these idiots teaching those poor kids now?" So I felt like I needed to hurry up and explain that Bri didn't know what she was saying, she didn't mean anything by it, she was just mimicking something she heard- doing her own unique and slightly twisted rendition of the "King of the Jews" line-yada, yada, yada. And I'm doing that nervous little laughing thing that people do when they're thinking, "Cr*p. I'm in trouble."
My mom says, "Oh, I thought she said 'Call me Bribee apple juice.'"
So the scowl wasn't because she was offended- only confused. Good times. Family fun.
I didn't get many pictures this year. Someone (read with an accusatory, sarcastic, and slightly hostile tone, please- directed at my husband or one of his spawn) misplaced my battery charger and the camera conked out after just a few pictures. Great. My mom comes here about once or twice a year. We'll remember what you look like, Mom. No biggie. Catch ya next time. Course the kids won't be quite as cute next Christmas. They don't stay little for long, do they? Oh well. And I may never be this thin and good-lookin' again. But, hey. Who needs a picture of me at my sexiest? Not me. Nooooo biggie.
Gosh, I hope it doesn't turn out that I'M the one who misplaced that charger. That would be embarrassing, huh? Ya know, now that I think about it... There's this box under my bed that... Oh, cripes- I gotta go.
I'll leave you with a few pictures I took before what will henceforth be referred to as "The Battery Incident of Christmas 07."
My mom came to visit last Sat. and left today. It was really nice having her here and I wish she could've stayed longer, although she was probably about to pull her hair out putting up with all of us these past few days. It's a major adjustment to go from living alone in peace and quiet, with nobody to worry about except 2 dogs, to staying in a house of 8. There is NEVER quiet here. NEVER. An afternoon with us is enough to make an alcoholic out of anybody, I don't care who ya are (not meant to suggest my mom ever was, is currently or plans to become an alcoholic. I'm just saying...).
She heard a LOT of this:
Hey, Nana. Nana. Hey. Nana, wanna hear somethin', Nana? Hey. I know a joke Nana. I made it up. Wanna hear it, Nana? Hey, Nana? You're still gonna do that puzzle with me, right? Nana. I'm ready to start it right now, Nana. Hey, Nana. Guess what my mom said not to tell you, Nana- Oh, look at that, Nana. The dog just threw up on the floor. Can you stay here with us longer, Nana? Don't you wish you could, Nana? Huh? Hey. Nana- I taught myself how to play "Heart-Shaped Box" on my electic guitar. Wanna hear it? Here- let me turn up my amp. This one's "Sweet Home Alabama." Oh, thanks. Can you tell what this one is? Nana! Polar Express is on! Sit by me, Nana! NO!! She's going to sit by me! She said. Uh-huh. Yes she did. Nana? Didn't you just say you're going to sit by me? See? She did. OK then- can I sleep with you tonight, Nana, since I can't sit by you during the movie? Nana? Do you smell that smell, Nana? HEY! You little kids get out of here, we're gonna play Madden 08 on the big TV. Yuh-huh. OH YES WE ARE. OUT, NOW! Dad said. Yes, he did. Did too. Go ask. See? Nana, wanna watch us play Madden 08? Do you know how to play, Nana? Where are you going? Hey. Nana? I think you just stepped in the dog vomit, Nana. Can I come in there with you? Why are you crying, Nana? Why are you locking the bathroom door and sobbing, Nana? Hey, Nana? ...Mom, I think something's wrong with Nana. I think I just heard Nana say a bad word. Again.
"Mom?" I say, as I tap on the bathroom door. "Mom. Hey. Mom. Mom. Hey, Mom?"
On the night we picked her up, Brianna started repeating something in the car she'd heard in a Christmas movie that mentions "Herod, King of the Jews." So she loudly blurts out, "You can all just call me 'Bribee of the Jews." This comes out of nowhere, mind you (and for those of you who haven't experienced the joys of parenting yet, it is a rule that it will always come out of nowhere, at a time and place that will cause maximum parental embarrassment, and in front of the last person you'd want around to witness it. Write it down. You have been warned.). My mom got this scowl on her face that I recall seeing several times during my childhood which was typically a precursor to something- oh... we'll just say -*unpleasant* about to take place in my future. She goes, "Ooooookay," in a tone that immediately made me think, "Cr*p. I'm in trouble." It was a tone that sounded like she was thinking, "What are these idiots teaching those poor kids now?" So I felt like I needed to hurry up and explain that Bri didn't know what she was saying, she didn't mean anything by it, she was just mimicking something she heard- doing her own unique and slightly twisted rendition of the "King of the Jews" line-yada, yada, yada. And I'm doing that nervous little laughing thing that people do when they're thinking, "Cr*p. I'm in trouble."
My mom says, "Oh, I thought she said 'Call me Bribee apple juice.'"
So the scowl wasn't because she was offended- only confused. Good times. Family fun.
I didn't get many pictures this year. Someone (read with an accusatory, sarcastic, and slightly hostile tone, please- directed at my husband or one of his spawn) misplaced my battery charger and the camera conked out after just a few pictures. Great. My mom comes here about once or twice a year. We'll remember what you look like, Mom. No biggie. Catch ya next time. Course the kids won't be quite as cute next Christmas. They don't stay little for long, do they? Oh well. And I may never be this thin and good-lookin' again. But, hey. Who needs a picture of me at my sexiest? Not me. Nooooo biggie.
Gosh, I hope it doesn't turn out that I'M the one who misplaced that charger. That would be embarrassing, huh? Ya know, now that I think about it... There's this box under my bed that... Oh, cripes- I gotta go.
I'll leave you with a few pictures I took before what will henceforth be referred to as "The Battery Incident of Christmas 07."
Nana with the kids, FREEZING at Silver Dollar City
And a couple shots of "Bribee Apple Juice" on Christmas morning:
After all the gifts were opened Bri said, "Boy! I REAAALLLLY love STUUFFFF!"Yep. We're doing a great job teaching our kids the meaning of Christmas.
It's all about being Bribee of the Jews and the stuff.
If you'd like any pointers on how to instill these same treasured values into your own children, you just let us know.
Have a Happy New Year!
No comments:
Post a Comment