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February 2010
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April 2010

Her brain is runny, like a cracked egg it is!

This is really dumb but I never remember how to boil eggs.  As in, I never remember the proper cooking time.  Or technique.  I mean besides putting them in water.  But it's not entirely my fault!  I have an egg cooker and trust me, I can work that puppy like a... hard working... puppy.  Anyway, the egg cooker's process involves poking holes in the little eggs' behinds which is not conducive to coloring the eggs.  So once again (just like every year) I'm googling "how to boil eggs".

But I shouldn't have bothered saving their eggy rumps because I just checked the pot and most of them have cracked.  (Heh... "crack"... "rump".)

I am now officially the worst cook of all time.  To be safe someone should confiscate my toaster.  (Also... worst blogger since I'm posting LIVE while boiling eggs!)

Aaaaaand... I just checked the directions of the "tye-dye egg" kit (Chance picked it out) and they're confusing.  I think this kit is French.  Why is everything you buy at Michael's French?  I'm sure the directions make perfect sense when not read in English.  Oy.  This should be fun.

Nothing to do with eggs but here's a little ditty that just won't get out of my head.  Kind of reminds me of Squeeze.   

On age-inappropriate Greeks

So I'm doing this thing were I'm trying to catch up on some of the major children's/young adult novels that I missed so whenever Chance gets around to reading I'll know what his books are about.  Essentially, I'm reading below my age level (because I am SO SMART).  See, I was pretty well versed in most of the kids' books growing up, but I read so much (*cough* bookworm geek) that somewhere around 12ish I finished up everything in our grade school library and I switched over to adult books.  And by adult books I don't mean Forever, I mean adult sci-fi and fantasy.

Because just in case you haven't figured it out from the many previous statements on this blog... I am a nerd.  

(Which of course translates to assuming my child will also be a nerd.)

So I've been picking up some of the more popular books, including the Percy Jackson series. Of course, I'm proudly walking around with my Percy Jackson books, pointing out to 8-year-olds in various waiting rooms, "Hey, I'm reading that, too!" and asking if anyone's seen the movie yet, etc ad nauseam.

And someone said, "Isn't that just like Harry Potter?"  Whereas I proceeded to prove my inherent nerdiness by uttering "NO!" with all the appropriate accompanying Napoleon-Dynamatic sounds and readying my Gandolf action figure for battle.  "Um, one has witches and wizards and the other has Greek gods.  Duh." 

Then me and the other 8-year-olds totally share this commiserating eye-roll.

Anywho, I have to say I've been really digging (they still say that right?) the Percy Jackson books.  I've torn through the series at a pretty undignified clip for an adult who has no business wrestling children for the last copy at the bookstore and what has impressed me is the incorporation of the original myths.  I had to read the Odyssey and the Iliad in school, taught by an actual Greek who was close to retiring (because you're only allowed to be Greek for so long) and I vividly remember this class because this particular teacher would read out passages and then ask us, the students, what we thought it meant and we would offer up our best interpretations and stumble bravely along and we were always wrong, because we were not Greek.  But he would never tell us what anything actually meant.  Way to earn that pension.  However, besides the fact that, according to Greeks I know nothing, I DO KNOW that the books are pretty darn entertaining and clever to this super hip middle-aged mom who may or may not need a little escapism now and again (and you wouldn't begrudge her that, would you? even if she is a nerd).  And... I love Percy's attitude.  Attitude goes a long way with me.  I learned that in college.

Now hopefully they won't fuck up the whole series via film. Have I mentioned I haven't seen the movie?  That's my next stop after picking up something skelanimal at Hot Topic.

I thought for sure I had a point somewhere besides the business end of a sword.

            - the weirdgirl


So I'm filling out (kill me) enrollment forms for Chance's kindergarten (gah! kill me) and I've hit a stumper.

On every single school form I have ever filled out for myself, and now for my child, under Ethnicity (which is different than Race, mind you) there is always a listing for...

White/Not Hispanic

Emphasis on the Not there, did you see that?  Sometimes there is even more than one listing of Hispanic/Latino or NOT Hispanic/Latino, just to make sure that we all know that you cannot be partly Hispanic.  Of course, the issue is that I'm 1/2 Hispanic and 1/2 White... but you can only mark ONE!  For me, in the past I often took the easy route and put Hispanic since I'm fully half that and I'm about eight different European nationalities on the other side.  Or on a perverse day I would mark White, cross out the "not", and then also mark Hispanic because really, who do they think they are?!

Of course, Ethnicity is supposed to mean the ethnic culture of which the child most "closely identifies".  Dude, we're talking about 5-year-olds.  And guess what?  I identify with Hispanic culture AND White culture.  Not that I'm altogether sure what "White" culture is supposed to be... for me it seemed to involve hearing a lot of Irish folk music growing up and not being allowed to drink soda.  Does that count?

And then under Race, they list American Indian/Alaskan Native, African American, White, and 15 different Asian designations.  No Hispanic.  No Other.  No Indian or Middle Eastern for that matter.  But at least you can choose up to five categories of what they've given you!  Ooooh.

So, besides getting irritated, I started freaking out a little (just a little) because if these stupid, inaccurate forms have been the bane of my school career what the heck would I put for Chance?!  But then I started thinking... Keen is 1/2 Italian, and 1/4 each German and Irish.  That makes Chance 1/4 Hispanic, 1/4 Italian, 1/8 German and Irish, and 1/16 of the about eight different things floating around in my DNA... that pretty much makes Chance a wash of European heritage.  I.e. White.

Regardless of what I may have identified with, regardless of his extended family.  Regardless that I had to, at times, kind of fight for my cultural identity because I'm paler than pale and who ever heard of a red-headed Hispanic?  (Everyone discounts Charro.)  

The important thing here is that you check off the box from the options they've given you, right?

Thank you, forms, for chipping away at my cultural heritage.

 School form_ethnicity_race

Slightly cool with a chance of preoccupation

I've been offline so much I don't know what to write.  (I probably don't tell you this often enough but you internets inspire me.)  Last week was one of preoccupation.  I think this week will be marginally better.  I think.  I keep feeling there's something I'm forgetting.

But then, there's always something I'm forgetting.

Down the list... my grandfather has been moved out of the ICU!  Yay!  There are still some issues but no ICU is great.  (Because no gnews is good gnews.)  I have not heard how his kidneys are doing but please pray for no further complications.  

Chance's birthday party was on Saturday.  It was a Mario Bros/snake theme this year.  Speaking of scatter-brained, somehow I managed to take a whole series of photos upside down.  As in, I must have been holding the camera upside down!!  And still clicking.

Anyway, when I say snakes I do mean snakes.



This one particular snake tried making off with my glasses. Yeah, I'm a fashion icon.


And another kick ass cake. With raspberry chocolate frosting!  Yum!


Shit! How did I DO that?!

 008 flipped

That's better. Albeit a bit blurry. 

There's a metaphor in there somewhere.             - wg

favors and phone calls

It looks like my grandfather may be out of the woods (hope and pray)!  And for a while there, he was very deep in the woods.  I haven't gotten the latest latest directly, but the updates via Facebook have been fairly regular.  (Thank god for Facebook.  It's been the fastest way for our diverse family to communicate.)  It has been a week since he went into sepsis and he continues to fight.  It seems that some kidney function is coming back and is steady, but more would be better.  I know that there are issues, other organs that may have been impacted, such as his heart, but we'll learn more as time goes on.  (And I'll learn more once my mom calls me back.  Call me back, Mom.)

BTW, it seems everyone else in the free world has called me this week.  About things not related to my grandfather in the hospital.

While all this has been going on, Chance turned 5-years-old yesterday.  He is very, very excited.  We are having a kids party on Saturday, but Chance got to celebrate at school yesterday morning and Keen's family came over last night.  It is a big deal... being 5.  As a child or a parent, it feels... significant.

It is a strange thing when you are manning phones and preparing to fly out of state... trying to prepare yourself in case... but you're also putting together snake-themed goodie bags. 

As one of my friends said, "That's about right, though, isn't it?"

               - the weirdgirl

My grandfather is in bad shape.  He went in for surgery last Monday.  The surgery was to reattach his colon, which had been detached in a surgery last November.  Initially everything seemed to go well.  But he wasn't bouncing back the way he did after the last surgery.  His colon ruptured and he went into septic shock. 

Right now he's fighting the infection but his kidneys won't come back online.  He is a very strong man.  He's 86 but he was healthy going in and we're all hoping he can continue fighting. 

My grandfather's name is Bob.  For some reason, probably because of some strange toddler mispronouncement, instead of calling him granddad or grandpa, I and my brothers grew up just calling him Bob.  The other kids in the family call him Grandpa.  I introduced him to Chance as Grandpa Bob because in my mind he will always be the first and foremost Bob in my life.

Please send him your prayers.

Kids are real (annoying) people, too

I know this is breaking the mommy blogging rules but I need to take a moment to bitch about my child.  Yes, I know!  We're only supposed to talk about how much we love our kids, and the cute and great things they do, or, barring that, how misunderstood they are because they are actually secretly wonderful even when they are misbehaving.

But come on, my son is a person, just like anyone else and that means he has strengths and weaknesses.  Potentially annoying ones.

I LOVE my son.  To pieces.  And I will get all mama bear up in someone's ass if they try to mess with him. Chance is smart and super creative and I love that.  The creativity is one of my favorite things about him.  I love that he can whip out a story at a moments notice, that he is always thinking, that he looks at things in different ways, and says the unexpected thing.  But sometimes?  Those smarts and creativity?

Kill me. KILL ME!

Chance doesn't understand what "fast" is.  Or at least he doesn't understand the difference between fast and slow.  He doesn't understand the word "focus".  And god forbid he actually does one thing at a time.

This morning we're trying to get ready to leave and we were ON TIME! and he insisted he wanted to do another homework sheet before school.  So I, like a big dummy, said, "OK, if you go fast as we get ready we'll have time. So go fast."  But the fast never happens. 

When Chance finishes his homework sheet (which was punctuated by numerous unrelated questions), and I say "OK, write your name," he launches into a story.  "What if Abraham Lincoln and the Mario Bros..."

When he actually writes his name he decides he must do each letter in a different color.  Which is fine.  As long as you do it quickly!  Nope, he tries to start a discussion about the coolness of different colors. (Which I nip in the bud, to speed things up. I do a lot of bud nipping.)  

If I say "come here, it's time to put on your shoes", Chance lays flat on the ground, points out that he's lying down, sits up, grabs a toy, and then spins around on his butt three times.  By that time, I've snagged an ankle to haul him over. 

This happens for EV-ERY-THING!

I try to give him useful definitions for what I'm talking about.  Such as, "going fast" means only doing the things that need to be done, no extras.  And then I point out what the extras are: telling a story, playing with toys, jumping up and down when I say "come here", trying to do two things at once.  "Listening" means stop, looking at a person's face, not talking/interrupting, etc.  But ARGH!  This is not meant to be a "secretly wonderful even when he's misbehaving" post because seriously?  Seriously?  He's driving me nuts!!  Some of it is the SPD, some of it is just his nature, and some of the time he really is just misbehaving because he thinks it's funny.  (So NOT funny.)

I can usually repress the frustration.  I'm very good at repression.  But this morning I lost it and slammed my hands on the floor and now my wrist hurts.

Because I'm not perfect either!

             - the weirdgirl


One more update... Keen has now lost over 50 pounds!

I am super, SUPER proud of him.  And he is starting to look mrrowrr sexy.

But also?  He kind of sucks a little.  

When I went to lose weight after having Chance it took me four months to lose 10 pounds.  And I thought that was pretty good!  I averaged 2.5 pounds a month (except for that first month where I don't think I lost a damn thing).  I exercised, watched what I ate.  Granted my diet wasn't as radical as Keen's, but I was coming off breastfeeding which means I had to fight massive hormone-induced hunger cravings.

Keen has been averaging 2.5 - 3 pounds a WEEK!  Probably more. I haven't calculated it out because I don't really want to know.  But he started the day after Thanksgiving. 3 1/2 months ago.  50+ pounds gone. 


So on the one hand, I'm going to have to start beating the cougars off my husband with a stick.  (Or throw out Gucci bags as a distraction or something. I don't know.)  He's like my hunky, orange popsicles and lemonade trophy guy.

On the other... you boys and your metabolism? You stink.

            - wg