Sweet, sweet summertime

(This entry is also posted at www.missuzj.com, my new blog address. I'll be simul-blogging until the end of the month, and then will be posting exclusively at www.missuzj.com.)

It's so hard to post anything lately. It just seems like I have nothing to say. Tales of play dates and laundry aren't particularly engrossing.

The summer days are drifting away one at a time. Soon it will be July 4th, and then it's a quick slide down a steep hill to the school year.

Soph and I are having a really nice time together. She has swimming lessons every day at one, and while she still isn't actually swimming, she's getting close. Hopefully by the end of the summer we'll be able to go to the pool without packing the floaties. We've hosted several play dates, and I just love to spy on her and hear what she says to her friends when she thinks I'm not listening. Of course, the last time I interrupted her to tell her it was time to clean up, she was chanting "bippity bobbity boo" under her breath. When I left the room, I heard her say, "Crap. She didn't disappear."

No major mishaps so far (knock wood) other than a little run in she had with a ceiling fan. We were at a party at some friends' house, and I NEVER have much to drink when I'm being the "primary care giver," but E wasn't drinking and I was introduced to Sr. Mojito. Damn. Anyway, she climbed up on a bunk bed (unbeknowst to me) and there was a ceiling fan about 2 feet above it (!!) and she stood up and got clocked in the forehead. It could have been way worse, but I felt/feel pretty freakin' guilty for not paying better attention.

We've started reading short chapter books together at bed time. After blasting through a couple of Disney Fairies books (not as bad as you might think) we've started reading the Ramona books which she gets a pretty big kick out of. I enjoy reading them to her, so it's win-win.

I'm still Weight Watchering. Actually, I'm down 20 pounds, but have gotten pretty complacent the last few weeks. I need to step it back up. Thing is, getting skinny is a little scary. The fat is there for a reason. Not 100% sure what that reason is--that would be way to thoughtful and introspective of me--but as it started coming off, I did feel a little bit of panic.

I did notice, after a weekend of cocktails and cheese and s'mores and no exercise at the family cabin, (aside--the next time you are making s'mores, put a flat rock just close enough to the fire to warm it. While toasting your marshmallow, place a graham cracker on the rock with your chocolate on it. The chocolate will get all melty, and from there, it's just food porn. I'll let you use your imagination)that I felt tired and cranky--like I did when I first had the Epstein Barr diagnosis. So--wait--eating well and exercising makes your body feel better? Oh. Why didn't anyone ever tell me that before. ;)

Comment Whore wants to know:

How do you like your roasted marshmallows? Flaming? Golden? Do you have a technique?

Talet Show Video

(This entry is also posted at www.missuzj.com, my new blog address. I'll be simul-blogging until the end of the month, and then will be posting exclusively at www.missuzj.com.)

Remember the South Elementary Variety Show? Sophie had such high hopes for her "performance" and then some serious stage fright turned her sweet solo into a dubious duet? (Alliteration strikes again!)

I finally received the video from the PTA, and after 2 hours of trying to figure out Windows Movie Maker and YouTube, I just may just be ready to share it with you.

Tuesday Redux

(This entry is also posted at www.missuzj.com, my new blog address. I'll be simul-blogging until the end of the month, and then will be posting exclusively at www.missuzj.com.)

One of the greatest things about updating the blog has been going back through old posts. I can't believe I've been doing this for 3 years, and I'm so, so grateful to myself for recording all of those "toddler moments" from when my girl was little(r). So, I've arbitrarily chosen Tuesday as redux day. I'll just pull a post from the archives, and have a look back at what Soph and I were doing around this day 1, 2, or 3 years ago. Lazy, eh?

Today's flashback is from 3 years ago.

6/19/05
THE CANDY MAN

I have yet to see the third, sixth, whatever it is, newest Star Wars movie. I'm not a die hard Star Wars fan, but I was disappointed by numbers 1&2 or 4&5, or whatever. No Han Solo (insert purring growl in appreciation of young Harrison Ford with a blaster), shitty directing, annoying amphibious creatures. Sophie has not seen any of "new" Star Wars movies, but, because of a strange connection she's made regarding Darth Vader, she's already his number one fan.

You see, the very first Pez dispenser that she happened to receive was Darth Vader. She knew nothing about his betrayal of the Jedi, or cyborg soullessness. All she knew was that if you lifted up his head--CANDY! And better yet, you can keep lifting, and the candy KEEPS COMING! That is why Sophie refers to Vader as, "The Candy Man."

So a couple of days ago, we were all sitting around, and decided to put in Episode 4--A New Hope--or as I prefer to call it, Star Wars. When Vader made his first entrance, Sophie was beside herself--not with fear, but with joyful appreciation. "Wook Mommy! Wook! It's the Candy Man!" She sat through the rest of the movie--enjoying Chewbaca, asking about Leah--but mostly waiting with baited breath for the appearance of the man who in her mind must be cousins with Santa Clause, or at least the Easter Bunny--The Candy Man aka Darth Vader aka Annakin Skywalker.

What's kind of odd about her camaraderie with Darth Vader is that she has this funny mannerism that we've been calling "Vadering" for about a year now. When she's particularly pissed, she'll hold her arm out stiffly, with her fingers spread and pointing straight forward and say firmly, "No Daddy!" (or Mommy or whoever.) We call it Vadering (as in--"Sophie just totally Vadered you") because it's like the thing Vader does to strangle that general guy in one or another of the movies. We know that she's especially pissed when we get a "Double Vader"--both hands out.

On another Sophie/Star Wars note, the other day she opened the fridge and dragged out a nearly full gallon of milk. I must have been comatose on the couch--because I didn't notice. Janzen walked by, oblivious to both Sophie and the milk, until she screeched, "Janzen--Don't put my milk away!" This, of course, clued both Janz and I into the fact that some milk intervention was needed. After I confiscated the milk, we laughingly discussed how Sophie had totally yet inadvertently tattled on herself. I said to Janzen--"She should have said, 'Move along Janzen. This is not the milk you're looking for.'" He thought this was so hilarious, he spent the rest of the day teaching her to say, "Move along. This is not the milk you're looking for."

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I should write more about my step-son. He's a total hoot. Plus, he is the most consciencious person with a Y chromosome I've ever met. Several times a day he says, "Boo (his nick name for me since he could talk) is there anything I can do to help?" I'm dead fucking serious. He says this. Then he helps. Folks--he's 11! Plus, we've started watching Monty Python together. We'll just be sitting around, and suddenly he'll say "Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate?" (If you didn't get that quote, we can't be friends--unless you go rent The Holy Grail immediately and watch it tonight.) It's pretty cool to have a kid (I think I can claim him as partially mine) who is also an incredibly funny and empathetic friend. (But of course, African swallows are non-migratory.)

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Getting a "Double Vader" just for suggesting that perhaps pulling the entire roll of toilet paper off the roll and putting it in the toilet isn't such a great idea.

What's a little wiping among friends? AND New digs!

Sophie's friend Audrey was over all day yesterday. (My favorite Audrey story--she used to pronounce her "s" as "t." So, the first thing she ever said to me was, "How do you like my Hello Titty lunchbox?")

At one point, I heard Sophie holler, "Audrey! Hurry up!" Audrey replied, "Wait! I'm going poop!" There was a pause and then Sophie offered, "Need a wipe?" Audrey said, "Ummm. Sure!"

Luckily, I intervened in time, and explained to Sophie that Audrey was perfectly capable of wiping her own butt, and that if she needed help, a grown-up would handle it.

In FURTHER and more exciting news, I'd like to invite everyone to change up their links and start visiting me at the all new (insert drum roll) www.missuzj.com!

E bought the domain name for me for Christmas, and has been working since then to set up/design/create a super sweet new blogging pad for me.

I'll be simul-blogging for a while, but plan on posting exclusively to missuzj.com by the end of the month.

Comment whore wants you to...
Visit my new blog home and tell me what you think.

A quick Soph said...

On the way out the door this morning...

"Mom. Are we real or are we in a book?"

A story I forgot to tell

I always take Sophie on our end of the year field trip to the Zion Ponderosa Ranch Resort. It's about a 2 hour drive over the mountain, and that girl LOVES the school bus. The resort itself is kind of strange. Think of that place on Dirty Dancing, subtract the dancing, and add a zip line, mini petting zoo, and mountain bike trails and you're kind of getting there.

Anyway, it has a killer pool, which is where we spend most of our time.

While swimming, Soph overheard some teachers discussing the very thick, very sad scars on the upper arms of one of my girl students. Mrs. X mentioned to Mrs. Y that the student used to be a cutter. I heard the conversation as well, but assumed Soph wasn't listening, or that it had gone way over her head.

Now I have to back track. Soph's end of the year pet peeve at school was kids cutting (read with an incredulous Sophie voice) in LINE. The injustice of said activity was almost too much for her to take. How DARE someone try to insert him/herself in a line and not go to the end. She was particularly upset that the cutting went unpunished by teachers and even worse, that SHE got in trouble for tattling about the cutting.

So, in my motherly wisdom, I taught her the scathing verbal daggers which we at Mississippi Elementary school would use to call out and shame those who dared cut in line. Ahem. "Cutter cutter peanut butter!" and "No cuts no butts no coconuts!" I explained that when someone dared cut, we would simply say one of these seemingly magical rhymes, and they would then procede, post haste, to the end of the line.

Back to the ranch. I'm sure you know where this is going.

The story ends with Sophie chanting "Cutter cutter peanut butter" at my student as she walked down the bus aisle and me not knowing whether to shit or go blind.

Yet another facet of the world that I am unwilling/unable to explain to my 5 year old. Yet another fucked up thing to add to the list of fears to postpone until my daughter is an adolescent. Yet another occasion where Soph's sharp ears and my half-assed parenting got us both in trouble.

Comment whore wants to know:
When was the last time you were on a school bus?