We were late for soccer again.
Because my son’s thumb was stuck in a soda can.
Why was he drinking a soda?
Because I said no to him 4,999 times and I just didn’t feel like saying no anymore.
Why did he stick his thumb into the opening of the can?
Because it was there.
Why is he smiling in the photo?
Because I swore like a truck driver while I inched it out.
Know what he said to me when we freed him?
“Can I have another soda after practice?”
24 Sep 2013 10 Comments
23 Aug 2013 Leave a Comment
This is also what “I’m 9 years old and don’t have a care in the world” looks like.
This is also what “Going to the town pool at 6:30pm after a rain storm” looks like.
You know I could go on. I have, like, 10 more of these things in me. But I won’t. Happy Friday.
29 Apr 2012 3 Comments
I’m a vegetarian. I’ve always been one. My parents are both veggies too. My sister ventured to the dark side during her teen years, but we got her back eventually. It’s really no big deal. I’m well fed – over nourished actually. I’m pretty easy going about the whole thing. My kids both eat meat and fish and fowl – I’ve already explained their Irish/Ukrainian background which demands consumption of many different types of sausage. I have no problem cooking for all different folks, save the Vegans who I think are aliens (really, no cheese or yogurt, ever? A life without dairy? Madness. ) I’m off track, I’ve digressed … or as one my good friends would say, “the cheese is falling off the cracker.” See why I love her?
It’s pretty easy to be veg these days, there are plenty of choices – I can even get a Big Mac without the Mac. I’m just sayin’ it’s no big deal. The only thing that still freaks me out is when animal and non-animal are served together on the same plate, or are handled by the same utensil, or worse, cooked in the same pan! Then I’m a little grossed out (in a non-judgmental way). When I first learned what the word Kosher meant – I was thrilled. All my needs wrapped up in a bow. Yes, I know it means so much more – and it’s not exactly what I’m talking about – but it’s close enough. Would I love my food to be cooked in an entirely separate kitchen, oh yeah. Will it happen – no. But when I say the word Kosher… it explains all my separate but equal needs.
So this weekend we went to see my husband’s cousin and his ridiculously gorgeous family. We met at a great hibachi place near their town. First I was distracted by the light and love that are these beauties….
Those lashes…that little nose and mouth. Come on.
My biological clock is literally winding itself up again as I hold her.
Have you ever??
Her very handsome, very funny older brother.
In this scene the hibachi madness had just started…
Below…. She’s thinking what I’m thinking,” Where’s the veggie hibachi grill?”
Where was I? Sorry. Now this was not my first hibachi experience. We go all the time. I knew when the gal came over to explain the menu that all foods would be living in sin together on the grill in front of us. I also knew that the dude cooking would be using one knife for it all (and telling bad jokes). So he went at it – cutting zucchini, cutting shrimp, cutting steak, cutting my desire to ever go to Japan…not really…ok …yes.
Look at all that inter-food group mingling going on.
I realize I’m not normal. I’m not doing this for religion or animal rights – I just missed the boat on eating any other way. I blame my mother.
But this post is not a complaint – it’s an explanation. No other food eating experience can ever illustrate my issues more than hibachi.
That said – what do I get at hibachi every time we go? SUSHI!
Ofcourse I’m sure the sushi guy uses the same knife too – but a girl’s gotta eat right?
27 Apr 2012 6 Comments
This is my boy and his best bud. When they aren’t wilding the neighborhood (more on that later) – they climb.
Trees, fences, big rocks, barriers to sewers – nothing can stop them. They pack a snack, they make plans, and they go.
Sometimes they come back with a nice wild flower or funny story. Most times they have be hunted down and brought to justice for being late for soccer or baseball or piano or life.
After raising a girl who likes to do “inside” things like her Mom, it was a shock to my system to get this little monkey. But I’m catching on. I yell. A lot.
There are more than just these two hooligans in the gang – but I need to ease you into this life of crime.