Vacation!
Hello, readers! All five of you! An astute observer would notice that number is up from three! That is because two real live people that are not related to me left comments! Emily at http://horseychicken.wordpress.com/ and Gina at http://www.labelleavenue.com/blog/ are really nice people with great blogs! I recently read somewhere that when someone comments, it is good blog manners to email them back. Unfortunately I was not aware of that when they left their funny messages and so am probably back down to three readers now that I have outrageously offended half of my viewing public. Go me!
I mentioned last time that I will be on vacation next week. Since I can feel you VIBRATING with BURNING QUERIES I have decided to utilize a revolutionary Question and Answer format. Hold on to your hats, people:
1.) Jennifer, where are you going?
Cancun, Mexico with my husband’s parents, brother, sister-in-law, and my one-year-old nephew who is SO CUTE I may just squeeze a little lime juice on him and eat him right up.
2.) Is an airline actually going to be foolish enough to let your twin boys, aged three, on an airplane?
Probably. Possibly. Maybe in the cargo hold.
3.) Are you apprehensive about taking your evil insane twins on an airplane?
Not at all. I am confident they will sit still and be quiet. Also, my name is Fred and my hobbies include badminton and building model railroads. I think George W. should be allowed to serve a third term as president. And spiders are “good” because they “eat bugs”. (Okay, I’m sorry but I can not even pretend that last one is true. What-the-hell-ever those crazy spider propaganda people claim I KNOW that they are creepy horrible creatures with no redeeming value sent here with the sole purpose of torturing me.)
4.) Aren’t you concerned that nature lovers will bombard you with hate mail?
I would be, except that out of my whole five readers, I know where three of them live and they know I would not hesitate in dropping off my kids on their front lawn and speeding away.
5.) Weren’t these questions supposed to be about your vacation?
Yes. But I am a “free thinker”. My creative brain maneuverings are the sign of a highly intelligent mind. Also I look like a supermodel, except hotter, and my house is clean and organized.
6.) Jennifer, you can not POSSIBLY expect us to go seven days without hearing from you?!
Of course not! I am not a heartless monster! I will have internet access, and even though it costs approximately seventeen dollars a minute, you are worth it. Also, since the children will have other people to talk to that aren’t me (THANK GOD) I may even be able to complete an actual thought process and write a concise, witty, smart post!
7.) That has not happened yet, why would you start now?
Don’t get smart with me, buster.
8.) The fact that all three to five of your readers are snoring in to their keyboards indicates that they may be out of questions.
I think they were overcome with excitement. Totally understandable!
Well I must finish packing for six people. No pressure! If I forget something, well, it’s not like we’re leaving the country. (Crap.) Oh, and wake up. Not only am I finished here, but you are drooling on your computer.
Camp Drivemecrazy is in FULL SWING
Bonjour, le blog! How are you doing? That is so nice. So, ah, would you mind if I vent a little bit? What’s that? You have no control over what I type? If you did, the content would be way better? Ha ha! Ha! You are too funny! (What do you mean, “No really.”)
Anyway, I need to express how ADORABLE my children have been the past few days. SO ADORABLE, stabbing myself in the eyeball with a shard of broken glass sounds relaxing. Except that would be one more mess I would have to clean up (yogurt, I am TOTALLY GLARING IN YOUR DIRECTION.) Now not that I am one to complain, (stop laughing) but how many more days until school starts exactly? The whining and crying and howling and bickering and arguing and fighting and whining and biting (which I thought we were done with, but obviously not) and talking and questions and whining are DRIVING ME INSANE. To the point (hard to believe) that I lose the power of speech. Things like “bushaaaarggh!” and “graaaaaah!” come out of my mouth often enough that the kids don’t even look at me oddly anymore.
(Cleansing breath, Jennifer, cleansing breath!)
It’s okay! I’m fine! Don’t worry about me! Besides! Next week we go to the beach, and we all know just how relaxing a vacation with FOUR CHILDREN is, right? Right?! (whimper)
At this here weblog, we amble amiably. (And incoherently.)
One of the interesting things about keeping an online diary is discovering things about yourself that you had never realized, or knew but had never thought about. Now a very sharp reader (sharp as a marble!) may have noticed my fondness for tangents. On occasion I may have a wee bit of trouble staying “on topic”, as they say. (Who says?) It appears that where most people think in straight lines, I think like I polished off a jug of bourbon, swerving all over before collapsing in a heap. (The End!) What do they call it now? (Them again!) “Differently abled”? “Speshul”? Whatever it is, I have it. But that is what makes my writing “unique”! As well as “incomprehensible”!
Now some one else may use some type of fancy segue here, but remember my drunken stagger? I am going to awkwardly lurch to another topic. Because that is what I do!
My sister is getting married in September, and this past weekend a shower was thrown in her honor. (How can anyone hope to have a successful marriage without at least seven cookie sheets- it simply can’t be done.) And I’m sure do not even need to mention that we are some WILD PARTY ANIMALS. Which of course means there was bingo! Special Bridal Shower Bingo, which entailed guests filling in squares on a paper with gifts that they thought she would get, and she would open a gift, they would mark it off, blah blah five in a row, I’m sure you get the picture. Because you are a sharp reader, remember? Sharper than a marble, and sharper than me. My sister- in-law was going to be printing out the game sheets, and in our emails back and forth about shower details, my brain careened off of the straight line it was attempting to follow and ended up in an old lady bingo hall! Where they call out the numbers on the little balls, and Marge and Helga put their little plastic discs on to the corresponding numbers on their card. So I inquired of my sister- in- law as to the need for bingo pieces? Pellets? Spots? Dots? I was not sure what they were called, which is when IT happened- I wrote that I was sorry, but I was “not up on the bingo lingo.” I wasn’t even trying- it just came spewing out! Like a geyser of genius! Now I know what you are thinking: I feel very bad for your sister- in- law, as well as anyone else that has written contact with you. As well you should! But I meant more the other thing you were thinking: “Bingo lingo” is the single most underutilized phrase in the English language, and I congratulate you for writing it! (I know!) Except that as the bingo was on PAPER, their PEN would work quite nicely for marking squares, rendering the bingo plugs (?) a moot point entirely. And that whole messy paragraph made me realize something else about myself- I will make everything WAY HARDER than it has to be, NO MATTER HOW SMALL! Nothing is safe from me! (Why have one baby when I can spontaneously split my zygote in to two!) (That is a joke. We all know it was somehow my husband’s fault.) Anyway, I had to share my “bingo lingo” with you, as it was one of the high points of my day. The other high points being someone pooping in the potty, and the clothes sitting in the washing machine not smelling too funky to go in the dryer. (If my life was any more interesting, I would have to write about it!)
I think that is all the excitement the internet can stand for one day! And whereas someone else would insert a poignant closure here, I am going to screech to an awkward halt and tumble in to a lump on the floor. That’s how it works here!
(Yes, you can leave now. Sorry ’bout all that. It must be the bourbon.)
“I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting.” Mark Twain
I got to go to the dentist yesterday! Just me, no kids- it was like a mini vacation. I was reclining in the padded chair, relaxing to the cheeseball easy listening music (Dear Celine- my heart would go on and on and on too, if carried by your gazillions of dollars) and wondering where the dentist was, because he was taking for-ev-er, when I accidentally FELL ASLEEP.
I have no idea how long I dozed for, all I remember is waking with startled jerk that nearly made me lose my bib. And let me tell you, this whole thing would have been way funnier had there not been a line of people laughing at me. That tends to send amusement edging towards, um, humiliation. (And I know I can’t be the first person to fall asleep in a dental office. Right? Anyone?)
(Dear Dentist- if you are going to go through the trouble of punching a giant needle through my jaw, can you at least wait for a little numbness before grinding my tooth in to dust with your power tools? That would be swell. Thanks so much.)
My hygienist was one of those people that randomly bursts in to song in public. I am always startled when I am reading an ingredient list in the cereal aisle of the food store and the person standing next to me starts karaokeing along to the elevator music. Being that un-self-conscious about singing is a novel thought to me, as I warble like a strangling cat. (I know I can’t be the only person that lip syncs the Happy Birthday song. Right? Anyone? Anyone at all?)
In fact, on the rare occasions that I am moved to wail along to the radio in the car, I am immediately joined by a unanimous chorus of “Stooop it, Mommy!” At first I was offended, but I have since made peace with the fact that my talents lie elsewhere. Like procrastination, for instance! And napping! I could win a medal for napping! I probably would have already if the herd of children that appear to live in my house would quit interfering with my nap training schedule.
Official announcement
Some people that I know (my dad) have heard about the bloggers that make $40,000 a month, usually from ads on their site and/or corporate sponsors. (It’s true!) Granted, they have been doing it for many years, but philosophically speaking, What Is Time, really? A mere drop in the bucket of the universe! And they also have hundreds of thousands of readers every day but that is not SO much more than, um, three. And What Are Numbers, really? Just some strange hieroglyphics Galileo invented in order to play Soduko while perched on his chamber pot. (He did too. Did too. didtoodidtoodidtoo Moooooom, the internet is arguing with meee!) (* This brief summer vacation moment brought to you by Ernie’s Excellent Earmuffs. I will wear you in sweltering heat if you will just drown out the NOISE.)
So I have decided to BECOME RICH. That’s right! You read it here first! This time next week I will have at least three nannies and a housekeeper. (Why didn’t I think of this years ago?) And because I am abundantly generous, I am stating (right now!) that I will give all of my family members a BRAND NEW CAR. (Oprah totally stole my idea. So rude of her, I know.)
The cars are actually not quite ready yet, but I will keep you posted. (Ha ha! “Posted”! Blog humor! Priceless!) (Yes, you read that right. Mastercard copied off of me TOO. No one has any scruples anymore.)
* *This post brought to you by:
Extra Strength Duct Tape– “for children who have gnawed their way out of standard duct tape”
The makers of Prozac (Valium, are you interested? Call me. We’ll do drugs lunch.)
And my favorite book, Organization Is Bad For Your Karma and Makes You Fat. I highly recommend it. I would lend it to you but it is buried under one of my many piles of crap.
Punctuation tutorial- free of charge. Because I’m nice like that.
My husband’s mother (I will call her “Linda” for anonymity. And because that is her name.) (What do you mean, that “doesn’t work”?) is an English teacher. And not just any English teacher, but the worst kind– MIDDLE SCHOOL. The poor woman is clearly very brave crazy highly overpaid. [Ed.note- Depending on experience, teachers can make up to four dollars an hour now. Which is a lot, since teaching forty students at a time all day long seems like it would be horrible torture an under-appreciated chore pretty easy.]
She is smart, and a very good teacher, and said something to her students that resonated with me: “It’s only a run-on sentence if it’s not punctuated perfectly.”
Now obviously I am not one to get carried away with words but for FUTURE REFERENCE it is good to know that someone who gets paid money to teach English to our future citizens and is an expert in her chosen field said that very (very) long sentences are LEGAL.
(But Jennifer, you said she said “punctuated perfectly.” Your punctuation looks like it was done by a blindfolded drunken baboon.)
(Oh, hush up)
Happy Father’s Day!
Gregory, who is three, was indulging his inner yogi the other day and contorting himself in to one odd position after another. At one point he made something resembling a bridge, and exclaimed “Mommy, look my bridge!” Except that in his garbled toddlerese (my husband GLEEFULLY pointed out) it sounded precisely like “Mommy, you’re mah bitch!” And he couldn’t say it once or twice, but more like thirty-six times, NO DOUBT because Daddy was bent over with hysterical laughter that got more hysterical with each proclamation. (I was fully expecting him to require CPR by the time he finished convulsing with mirth.) LUCKILY there were no older children around to wonder what exactly was so funny.
Gas gives me stomach pains
So I was out with my three kids the other day and…. I’m sorry, what? Well yes, actually, I used to have four children. But unfortunately I had to sell one in order to PAY FOR GASOLINE. Which is now apparently a pound of solid gold a gallon. I never fill up my tank, I’m too impatient/late for something, and/or it is too hot/cold/rainy. But Safeway gave me a 10 cents per gallon discount, instead of the usual 3 cents per gallon discount, because I AM THEIR MOST FAVORITIST CUSTOMER EVER! (That, or I spent over $50 on groceries. The details are a little hazy.) So being oblivious the genius that I am, I figured that would be a good reason to fill’er up! So I stood there, clutching the pump and looking undoubtedly odd as I exaggeratedly mouthed “I SAID leave your brother ALONE” through the van window. When it clicked I hung up the pump, closed my cap, glanced at the total, and then fell over and died.
So to any family members reading this- if you are particularly fond of any of my (remaining) children, spend time with them now. For I have a hunch I may need more gas next week.
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. Unless the man is me, then he is just tired.
(Note- I am super lucky in that all four of my children are awake by 5:45 am EVERY DAY.)
So I think I mentioned that yesterday was the last day of school (nooo!) We made it all the way to 6:52 am this morning before the first “I’m boooored. What can I doooooo?” was heard. Although my brain was far more asleep than it was awake, I gave a helpful list of suggestions:
1. Read a library book
2. Make an art project
3. Play your gameboy
4.Ride your bike
5. Draw a father’s day card
6. Construct a marble track
7. Color with sidewalk chalk
8. Clean your bedroom
9. Scrub the kitchen
10. Serve me lemonade and fan me whilst I recline on the couch and peruse celebrity gossip magazines
However, naturally, I got the requisite “I don’t waaana do any of thooose things.” So I attentively inquired “What would you like to do?” Or more accurately, as it was not yet seven o’clock in the morning, mumbled “Whayouwannadozzz (snore)” He had a few ideas:
1. Go to the movies!
2. Play miniature golf!
3. Go bowling!
4. Visit ChuckECheese!
5. Swim in a pool!
6. Buy something [expensive] from the toy store!
7. Go to the zoo!
8. Visit Disney World!
9. Try hang gliding!
10. At 6:53 am!
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I am the MEANEST MOMMY IN THE WORLD for not pouncing on one of those excellent suggestions. I also don’t need to mention that it is going to be a very long summer.
So someone (My sister-in-law Jill! Hi Jill! Everyone wave to Jill!) mentioned that I am fond of parentheses. (I know, I didn’t notice that either.) (But she may have a point.) I also enjoy italics, and CAPITAL LETTERS. I like to think of my use of them as a written form of gesticulation, speaking !animatedly! in a typed form. Because that sounds better than, you know, just being a crappy writer. And did I mention that my home state is Denial? You should visit sometime, we locals are nice! (Although if we weren’t, we wouldn’t admit it. Because that is the beauty of Denial! Our slogan: “Like reality, only better!”)
Laundry Part 2, or I Was Not A Math Major
This is my SECOND post about laundry! Now one might say “Jeez, Jennifer, of all the boring things to write about, laundry is the boringist.” After congratulating you on your creative new word I would say that although laundry may be boring, I’m writing about MY laundry, which is far more interesting than “regular” laundry!
So the Googlites magic formula worked okayishly. A lot of the crayon came out, some things are still speckled black so if you see children walking around that appear to be covered in mold, they would belong to me.
In case you were curious, the magic formula that removed EVERY TRACE of crayon from everyone’s laundry but mine was 2 capfuls of detergent, 1 cup of oxiclean and 1 cup of borax. Your clothes get Really Really Clean, that is if they do not disintegrate first, which is entirely possible, so I’m not necessarily recommending this.
Now I generally try to stay as far away from math as is humanly possible, but in honor of it being the last day of school (nooo!) I will throw down a problem just for fun.
Let’s say someone named “Jennifer” has fifteen loads of laundry to do. That could be three loads a day for five days, or five loads a day for three days. But then six people wearing clothes make almost another load per day. And if today is Thursday, add it all up and divide it to find out how many loads will be washed by Sunday, and how many will be left over for next week. (Or multiply. Whatever. I said I’m not a math person.)
If you said 1.5 loads would be washed, and 27 will be left over, then you are correct! You would win a prize! If there was a prize, which there is not. Because that would require effort, and effort requires energy, and if I ever happen to stumble upon any energy I will need to spend it on laundry.
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