A life well traveled

We recently flew across the country, from one coast to the other. I have 3 kids. 3 kids, 5 hour flight. LOADS of fun. We had planned to bring our portable DVD player, so they could let movies babysit them, while we relaxed, poolside in seats 25 E and F. You know sipping margaritas, enjoying the rays and the low hum of the 747's jet engine in our ears. Right before we leave, we find the DVD player has had a hard life, and no longer works. Of all the crappy luck.

So before our flight leaves, we head out to buy a new one. Get one, plug it in so it can charge, and of all the crappier luck, it turns out, that we had bought one that needs to be plugged in, whether in the car or the house. So we walked around the airport, kicking our own @sses, searching the gift shops for horse tranquilizers to knock the kids out. (KIDDING of course)

We get on the plane, and it turns out that nobody is sitting in our row. Which, when you have 3 kids, one who is 20 months, life doesn't get better than that. But we quickly remembered the DVD player had failed us and we sunk back into a deep depression. Tornado was actually behaving well, kids were coloring and life was good. Until Tornado tried to shut the tray in front of her. The whiny college guy in front of her turns around, and says, "She shut that really hard and it hurt my head." I tried to explain to him that we have been getting on her about drinking protein shakes, and bench pressing her sisters while she watches Playhouse Disney, and she really doesn't know her own strength, but it would be impressive under her weightlifter bio to put that she, at 20 months old, hurt a grown man's head with the mere tips of her fingers as she returned the tray to it's upright position. He wasn't interested in our efforts to wash away her abusive behavior, so we tried to get her to fall asleep instead.

The girls did do amazingly well, munched on pretzels. They had attended a wedding that weekend, and had unlimited amounts of Shirley Temples, aka kiddie cocktails. When the beverage cart rolled around, I noticed that they had a pink looking drink. I can only believe that they were still living the high life and ordering mixed drinks. It was cranberry juice and sprite. I apologized for my little lushes, and promised to get them help.

The captain announced we were looking at Mexico to the left, and poor Middle cries out, " I don't want to look at Mexicans, I want to look at California!!!!!" I shrunk down into my seat a bit, knowing that what she said didn't sound right, and was hoping that nobody had her little outburst. I tried to explain what Mexican, American, Italian means, to no avail. I asked her if she knew what Mexican meant, and she said "Oh, like tacos?" *sigh* I have failed to create a multi-cultured environment. Please don't hold that against me, along with the kiddie cocktails.

We landed, got out luggage and our travels are over... for now.

The coco monster

When I was growing up, I wasn't so much afraid of the Boogie Man, as I was the CoCoKai. We had a national geographic magazine and there was this scary looking Aborigine in a mask, and somebody nicknamed it the "CoCoKai." So my sister was soooooo afraid of the CoCoKai. If we heard weird sounds, it was the CoCoKai. If you were afraid of the dark, it was because the CoCoKai was out there waiting. That CoCoKai was a pretty gnarly dude, and gave the Boogie Man a run for his money.

Fast forward to 2008. My brother stops by the other night, after spending the day pretending he was a Harley badass, riding around with his friends on their motorcycles. It was night when he stopped by, and we were just yakking it up in the kitchen. He was mentioning the cold, and pulls out his thin face mask that wraps around his face while he rides. Looks a little something like this. Oh, and he also has the skeleton gloves.

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I get this GREAT idea that he should go spook the kids. I'm sure I'll be the subject of many therapy sessions when they get older, but if you can't scare your kids, who's can you scare? In my maternal defense, they weren't asleep, but were in bed, SUPPOSED to be asleep. He puts the mask on, a black beanie, sunglasses and the gloves. I head up the stairs ahead of him, and do the whole mom "You better be in bed or something will eat your feet while you sleep" speech. The lights are off and I turn into my room, which is right by theirs.

I wait, anticipating the reaction. I start to think he changed his mind, until I see one skeleton hand wrap it's fingers around the edge of the upstairs cabinet. I about pee my pants, I find it so funny. All of a sudden, Oldielocks appears in the doorway of her room, saying she needs to blow her nose. Forget the nose, she's going to blow my skeleton surprise. She glances down the hall, and as quick as a bucket of moldy bones, my brother turns around and acts like he's talking to the Hubby, who himself is having a hard time containing the giggles. All you see is the back of my brother, and she heads back into her room. I once again shut the door, and wait. I peek around the door, and hear the tiniest creak. My brother is bent over double, stifling laughter, with his skeleton hand wrapped around his skeleton face. There is nothing funnier than a skeleton chuckling up and down. We are mean, mean people. There is a special place for people like us, I'm sure. Then again what would my kid write about in Monday's journal for school? I have to provide some form of inspiration for her, or her stories would be so boring.

Anyways, the bone giggles stop and he leaps into their doorway and slams the door behind him I hear a scream and insane giggling behind it. They were not scared in the least. They laugh like crazy,and Oldielocks says..."Is that supposed to be scary? It's just Uncle _____." They thought it was great, and the next morning Middle says "Was it Halloween or something? " I guess it's time for my kids to learn that you can dress up like a skeleton everyday, not just Halloween.

i've been tagged

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.


I watched her silently in the dim glow of the houselights.
"I wonder if Mom knew how bad it was going to get," she mused. "I mean, she said she did, but I wonder if she reallyknew deep down that she wouldn't recognize her children. Or even Daddy."

The Wedding. by Nicholas Sparks

Grandma's got game

I was chatting it up with my grandma the other day. She's getting older over 80, but still very with it. After she told me all about hemming her pants, and how she just HATES to buy pants because she has "short little legs that get her nowhere fast", she went on to tell me about her doctor appointment. I always cringe a little bit because last time she told me about her colonoscopy. And tomatoes. And that the two don't mix. As if I was wondering. *shudder*

So she is going to have a procedure on her back. Because she has pains in her hip. And she has never felt pain like that except for during childbirth. And she's certain there is no "big headed baby"about to spring from her loins. She thought for weeks it was her artificial knee, because it weighs 5 pounds. According to her. I don't know if she's weighed it or what,but she is adamant that knee weighs 5 pounds more than the other one. I asked her if she had a 100,000 mile warranty on that ol' body of hers. She said that she has passed 100,000 and they have come out with newer models. I just let her know they don't make them like they used to. I'm the perfect grandchild like that.

She then tells me that she was watching "the travel channel or discovery channel, and nothing but a bunch of naked wild men running around!" I asked her if she was staring at their whooo nannies all wrapped up and strapped to a belt around their waist. She laughed like a school girl and said she showed Pompa. (My grandpa) The hillybilly in him guffawed and said "Sugar, whatcha watching them naked boys for? They'll be pissin' in their faces running around all tied up like that." My grandparents hold nothing back, language and all.

And lastly she told me her friend was calling. Her friend got a divorce but found a new man on the internet. She wouldn't know where to plug the computer in at, let alone find men on it. But if she needed to, she could snap one up. I told her I better not find her sending out personal ads. She said she didn't think they had a category for old lady with a big behind, built like a brick.....uh.... shitaki house. Without the -aki. I agreed. I don't need to find an ad about how Grandma got her groove back.

I was out shopping....

Had a few things to get at the mall today, so took Hubby and Tornado with me to get them. I was looking for a pair of pale tan shoes, pretty much the color of vomit, but without the smell. We went in a store that had millions of shoes in very color,height, style imaginable. I'm bent over trying to deal with the whodingy on the strap of my shoes, in front of the mirror. I glance up to check out my swank and swagger in my new shoes, when something to the left catches my eye. There is a 40ish year old gentleman, with well... I don't really know. My eyes couldn't get past the jingle bell boxers. Dude was wearing red and green boxers, as shorts, really short shorts, that said Jingle Bells in big letters. First of all.... it's not christmas. Not even close to christmas. And while it's a warmer day, not THAT warm that you'd be out struttin' in your boxers.

While I picked my chin up off the floor and wiped my eyes with a antiseptic cloth, I noticed the fanny pack. Not just any fanny pack, but a beaded one, straight off the $5.99 souvenir table in Four Corners, New Mexico. And it wasn't on his fanny. It was holding court on his front, right between the "jingle" and the "bells". I watched him hold out shoes for his wife, while his daughter sat on the bench. In Target clothes, appropriate for public outings. The fashion memo they were passing around before they left the house never made it to him. I looked down and took my shoes off, making sure not to meet eyes with Hubby. I saw the family start to leave, so I stared straight at the floor counting "99 bottles of kool-aid on the wall" before I looked up, for fear that skid marks would be marking a road down the back of his pants as he left.

I saw the heading towards Sears. Perhaps St. Patrick's Day boxers were on sale, and dude needed something to wear to church.

I admit it

I slept with Rainbow Brite. For years. Her horse, her dog, she and I slept all cozied up in my bed, complete with rainbow brite sheets. I might have had a shirt or two. She was the business back in the day. Back when rainbows meant.... rainbows. No hidden meanings, just a collection of stories of Wisp living in Rainbowland. I also watched other 80's good stuff. You better believe I went to Bayside High with Zack and Slater. I bit all my fingers off during the Goonies, the face of Ol' Lady Fratelli still haunts my dreams, if I am ever lost in a forest being offered candy by a stranger, it's her fugmosis face I see. And Chunk, everyone wanted a friend like Chunk on their side.
Fresh Prince of Bel Air? I listened to Will before he went Hollywood, singing out loud with my brother at night, "Parents Just Don't Understand." Loud enough so my parents could hear, and yet still be in the legal limits of respecting them. I can still sing the theme song to the show, word for word. We could have been DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Princes, and Hot Mommtastic...if they would have let me in their little group. Something about 3 being a crowd, so that didn't work out.

How about I bawled my ever loving eyes out during E. T. Straight sobbed, even years later. It was so traumatic, poor Elliot and E.T., and I think I'm getting misty thinking about it.Guess things happen when they do, because E.T. could have whipped out the ol' blackberry these days and had his phone call and a hot pizza with m & m's waiting for him at home.

Punky was my idol. I can sing her song too, and you better believe I thought long and hard about being an orphan so I could have a wagon bed. Well, when you're 7 you don't really know how to connect the dots. Oh and sunshine hairbows. I had the freckles, so I totally could have pulled off the Punky Brewster style.

Anyways, that's my trip down 80's lane. And I would totally rock these today, rainbow brite lovin' or not.

Resolutions

I don't make new year's resolutions. Probably because I wouldn't ever keep them. I would follow along for about a month, and them skip/mess up/ whatever,and then decide it was a wash. Kind of like those kids in school that would get an A- and cry. Because it wasn't an A+. I still remember the girl who did that... and still remember wondering what was wrong with her... Didn't she know an A's an A? Heck, D is passing, anything above that was like extra points that don't really count. Well I mean they count, but still D= sigh of relief passing.

So I resolved that I was going to blog more. Not because I have an audience of readers waiting on baited breath for me to breathe life into an insightful passage of words, but because I constantly have things I want to say. So saying them on a blog is far better than sitting in my car in traffic talking to myself. Not that I talk to myself in traffic.

With that said, let's see how this goes......