Thursday, February 25, 2010


okay, everyone. I think we need to address a few of the issues brought up by Chirstofer's guest post, the first being, yes, Chris is romantic on occasion. As a matter of fact, it is a testament to amount of maturity I have acquired in the last five years that I thought it was a sweet gesture. BEHOLD, I am 29 and have grown as a person. Five years ago, I would have made elaborate gagging mimes and broken up with him; now it seems nice. This is what marriage has done to us. He has become less romantic, and I have become better able to appreciate his romantic gestures.

Love. It changes you.

On to other important clarifications:

  • It's not that roses are my favorite flower, it's just that when it comes to roses I have the same feelings I do about nail polish: if you're going to do it, red is the only color to choose. Go big or go home, you know?
  • I do like to lie to my little brother, that's true, but it's only because he is the most gullible person alive. I am not kidding. I have been lying to him weekly for years, and he still will believe everything I tell him. It is UNREAL, and by UNREAL I mean AWESOME. We'll have to dedicate an entire post some time to Lies I Have Told Daniel That He Totally Believed. (I do think it's important to note I am not his only sibling to take advantage of his trusting nature.)
  • I can read a lot because I read quickly. If I have a novel of 400ish pages, it's pretty standard for me to start after the kids have gone to bed and finish before I go to bed. On weeks where I am short on time or energy, I re-read books I have already read. I re-read a lot of books.
  • I broke up with christofer five times, not six.
  • I do like Prairie Home Companion. Because it is awesome. I also like car talk. I'm not ashamed.
  • I actually don't wear make-up a lot.
  • I'm an independent, but I fully admit I'm very conservative. It's only in comparison with my husband I'm a socialist.

and we're good. Anyone else want to guest post? having a post appear without writing it myself was fantastic.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

guest blogger on my birthday

I couldn't think of anything cool to post for my birthday, so Christofer volunteered to do it for me. please be aware that the views expressed herein are solely the property of Christofer, and do not in any way represent the opinions of myself, or the truth. same thing, really.

29 Things you might not know about Liz on her 29th Birthday.

1. She reads more than you do. At least a book a week. Often times more.
2. She gets crankier than you do when she is hungry.
3. She is extremely conscientious about what our kids eat. Spinach shakes for breakfast? Nasty.
4. She is less conscientious about what she eats. Brownies for dinner? Delicious.
5. She is funnier than she thinks.
6. She is a much better writer than she thinks. If I were a good husband, I'd find a way to link some articles she has written. I'm not that good of a husband I guess. But you can trust me on this one.
7. She swears on occasion. Most of the time it's on her blog. She says it's for emphasis. I think it's because she thinks it's funny.
7b. Her mom does NOT think it's funny.
8. She is kinder than you know.
9. She gets this strange aversion to the way I smell when she is pregnant. After the gym or just out of the shower, doesn't matter. It's really weird.
10. She broke up with me 6 different times while we were dating.
11. If she is reluctant to do something, she gives up fighting after the 6th time. you just have to stick with it.
12. She's really beautiful w/o makeup though she wears it anyway.
13. She has a laptop on her lap a couple hours a day.
14. She tortured her younger brother when they were little. Not in the water boarding way but more in the telling him something that was wildly unbelievable and getting him to believe it anyway kind of way.
15. She still does #14 today.
16. She is very good at Scrabble. Or I could just be really REALLY bad at it. I suspect it's just that she is very good at it. She is probably better at it than you are too.
17. She's probably not listening to you. Sounds worse than I mean it. She's just really good at thinking about other things while you are talking -- subconsciously hearing what you are saying and then catching up consciously if she needs to. You probably haven't noticed this. You probably won't. Doesn't mean it's not happening.
18. Her favorite color of rose is red. I'm pretty sure it's because they remind her of me. (I have red hair -- she's sentimental like that.)
19. She's sentimental like that.
20. She can play Phantom of the Opera songs on the harp. Yeah---awesome.
21. She spends more time with my family than I do. Not because she likes them more. I just can't as much. I'm really glad she likes my side of the family.
22. She deserves better than she has.
23. She is more politically conservative than she admits.
23b. She doesn't admit it at all.
24. She listens to a radio variety show that targets the 50yr + crowd and enjoys it.
25. She is a great friend. Most of you knew that one but it deserves mentioning.
26. She really wants to go to Greece. Sorry Honey. That's not your B-day present.
27. She is very honest. Sometimes to a fault. Really? You couldn't just say, "No Honey, your hair is just as thick and full as the day I broke up with you the first time?"
28. I've made her cry more than I would care to admit. She's made me cry twice. I never cry. Yes, one of those times it did have to do with number 10. The other was when she married me.
29. She is loved more than she will ever know.

Happy Birthday Elizabeth.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

religious instruction: I don't appear to be any good at it

I was sitting on the couch with my camera and my computer and the boys were playing over by the table when all of a sudden Michael called "Mom! Look! Mom!"

"We made a cross like Jesus! and we're being angels!"

and I was like, "oh. That's weird."

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

from a few weeks ago

Tonight after dinner we piled onto the couches and watched one of the movies William received for his birthday.

Actually, let me back up for a moment and tell you about how a couple of months ago I decided I was overly cautious about the types of movies I let my kids see. We'd been pretty straight pixar/animated family stuff around here, with a generous helping of DVRed Disney shows, and I never dreamed of letting my kids watch anything that wasn't made directly for children. I mean really, until October, the most controversial show around here was Charlie Brown, and that was only controversial because it led to both boys routinely threatening to "pound" me (or each other). But then Star Wars Madness! happened, and after much vascilating and temporizing and debating, I finally realized I was the only mother I knew even remotely concerned, and went with it. The boys were ecstatic. They LOVED it. They continue to love it, as a matter of fact, with no ill effects I can see.

But. The reason I was originally so protective is because of Michael. Michael is kind of bizarrely sensitive, and I don't mean bizarre in the sense that he's crazy oversensitive all the time to everything, I mean bizarre in that this sensitivity will strike whenever you least expect it. Nothing unusual for months and months, and then one night we'll be at basketball game and the sound of the horn will have him crying and begging for home.

are you tired of my exposition yet? cautious because of Michael, check. eased up on movie guidelines with no apparent consequences, check. consider yourself up to speed. SO ANYWAY.

For William's birthday I bought one of those packs of movies you can buy at Target or Wal-Mart, three movies for like $13. And these movies were innocuous, honestly, it never even crossed my mind to be concerned. They were all rated G: An American Tail, Balto and The Land Before Time. harmless, right? So tonight we decided to watch The Land Before Time.

Because, Dinosaurs! adorable Dinosaurs! Who wouldn't love that?

Well, I'll tell you wouldn't love that. We watched the movie the whole way through with nary a problem, and then, just as Little Foot was finally reunited with his grandparents, Michael, who was sitting right next to me, turned his face into my shoulder and dissolved. Just completely melted down right next to me.

"uhhh...Michael?" I said.

"I'm so tired, Mom, I just want to go to bed," he sobbed.

whoa. what?

those words have not been uttered in this house by anyone other than Christofer or myself since...ever. EVER. No one under the age of 28 has ever REQUESTED to go to SLEEP. IT WAS AMAZING.

It would have been a lot awesomer if he hadn't been bawling while he said it, though.

"Are you okay, Michael?" I asked, positioning him more securely on my lap (no mean feat considering the state of my leg muscles, but that is a story for another post).

He wrapped his long arms around my shoulders as tightly as he could and said, "I just want to go to bed, mom. Please? Carry me? I'm just so tired."

So I gritted my teeth (the legs, you know),picked him up and carried him upstairs. "Do you want to go lie down in my bed or yours?" I asked, hoping to calm him slightly.

He didn't even answer.

I carried him over to my bed and started to put him down. "I want you to stay with me, Mom," he said, and I hugged him and said I would. He calmed down a little bit, and while he was pulling the covers over himself, he turned away from me and said, "You want to know what a sad part of that movie was?"

"Yes, I do," I replied, but just then William walked in.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Michael said.

So I held him for a minute, while he calmed down some, while his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. Then I asked, "Michael, what was the sad part of that movie? Will you tell me?"

"Yes," he said, and his breath caught. "When his mother died." He started to tear again, to choke up, and he asked, "Why did she die?"

I don't know how to answer this question, I thought, but outloud I reoffered the plot: she died trying to protect Little Foot from Sharp Tooth.

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to cuddle me," he begged, and of course I did. We turned around and lied back to back, the way I use to lie beside my mom, and he fell asleep.

Oh, Michael.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

an abbreviated valentine's day story

I think one of the things that makes Christofer and I so well matched is neither of us is very romantic. We are, in fact, the opposite of romantic. pragmatic, maybe. or just lazy. yes. whatever.

In any event, the upshot of all this non-romantic, pragmatic laziness is that our Valentine's are very low-key. very low-key. they involve pajamas, the kids, and (our one concession to the holiday) eating so much food that afterwards we can't move for an hour or two. Then going to bed.

it's awesome.


This year was ... less awesome. Mostly because we are idiots who decided we were tired of our sick, crabby kids and thought "Hey! if we put them to bed early, we can eat our huge meal after they're asleep! in peace! more chocolate for us! more awesome!"

Instead of boring you with details about just how incredibly difficult and frustrating putting our kids to bed can be, I'll just tell you how, three hours later, I turned to Chris and said, "You know, I think this was quite possibly our least successful bedtime ever."

and he was like, "You are so right. The police showing up is definitely a new low."

"Next time they come," I answered, "I'm going to say, 'Yes, officer, there is a problem! Arrest these children! Lock them up! Let them out when they agree to sleep like reasonable people!' because this is torture, basically."


so that was our valentine's. how was yours?

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Monday, February 8, 2010

everyday discipline

me: William! Hey! Did you just hit your sister?

William: yes. I did.

me: That's a very unkind thing to do! You hurt her! Why would you do that?

William: Because...I did it.

me: William, when you hit someone it hurts and it makes them sad. You don't like it when you get hit. If Michael hit you...

William: Michael didn't hit me. I hit Ivy!

me: I know, William. I meant if Michael became angry and hit you, like you just did with Ivy, it would make you very sad. You shouldn't...

William: If Michael was going to hit me, I just run away SO FAST. He couldn't catch me, nope.

me: I think he could probably catch you.

William: Nope! I'm the fastest. I'd hide and he, he, he wouldn't get me.

me: you wouldn't know he was going to ... you know what? I just meant that you don't like to be hit. You know that it's wrong, that it hurts people, so ...

William: I'm too fast. and then , if they catch me, I'll just kick them like this and HI-YA!

me: ... William, I feel you are missing the point.

William: and if they hit me again, I'll bit them.

me: ...

William: and shoot them with my shooter blaster.

me: ...dammit.

William: because hitting is not nice.

me: Yes! Right! Hitting is not nice! just don't hit your sister, okay?

William: okay. I'm so sorry.

me: yeah, sure. go tell Ivy.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

because the status is not quo

the world is a mess and she just needs to rule it.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010


last night I told my kids if they would stay in bed and go to sleep at 7, I would give them left over ice cream cake for breakfast.

hey. a lady's got to do what a lady's got to do.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

because, what?

sometimes I think being a stay-at-home mom is magical.
sometimes I think it's rotten.
and sometimes I think it's a lot like living in a teen movie where I play the straight man to everyone else's drunk guy/stoner/idiot.

it's sort of like living with kelso, I guess.
or a trio of him, rather.

today I walked downstairs and followed a trail of discarded clothing to the front room, where I found William, wearing only his diaper, sitting in a chair and poking his stomach.

"Hey, William," I said. "...what're you doing?"

he giggled like the proverbial school girl. "I a Naked Baby," he announced, then stood up and did a pirouette before sitting down again, still giggling.

"I see that," I said. "I meant, uh, why are you a naked baby?"

he looked up, cocked his head. "I looking at my tummy," he answered. Obviously, his tone added.

"Yes, I see that, too," I said. "But why are you naked and looking at your tummy?"

"Because...because...because," he seemed to have trouble formulating his reply, "because ... because...because, what?" he asked.

"whatever," I muttered. "Hey! how about we get your clothes back on."

"Nope! No. I not. I like to be naked sometimes."

"Yes, but guess what?" I discreetly edged toward him, clothes in hand. " If we put your clothes on, you'll still be naked under your clothes. How great is that?"

He stared at his stomach some more, considering. "still naked?" he inquired.

"Yep," I said, I lunged for his head. But before I got there he leapt up.

"Hey! Mom! Hey! Mom! DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU?"

"See what?"

He sucked a big breath in and stuck out his stomach as far as he could.

"MY TUMMY IS SO FAT!" he yelled, and dissolved into laughter.
for twenty minutes.

in closing, I would like to quote Cher Horowitz:

"It is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to be fried all day."

think about it.

Monday, February 1, 2010