I Hate Spelling
10 years ago
Friday, February 27, 2009
Pay It Forward
The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade (or possibly store-bought) gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. It won't be free though . . . in order to qualify you need to post this same thing on your own blog and then come back and leave a comment telling me you've done it. Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
What's good for the goose...
Me: Kaes, are you going to wear your tennis shoes to school today?
Kaes: Yes, the boys are going to be chasing me so I need to run.
Me: How do you know the boys are going to be chasing you?
Kaes: I asked them to.
Me: You did? What did they say?
Kaes: Yes.
Me: Why did you ask them to chase you?
Kaes: Anthony is in the other class and I've been chasing him. I decided it was his turn to chase me now.
Kaes: Yes, the boys are going to be chasing me so I need to run.
Me: How do you know the boys are going to be chasing you?
Kaes: I asked them to.
Me: You did? What did they say?
Kaes: Yes.
Me: Why did you ask them to chase you?
Kaes: Anthony is in the other class and I've been chasing him. I decided it was his turn to chase me now.
Monday, February 23, 2009
the reason for this blog
My kids.
The other day the princess was sitting under her bed in her pink nightgown, propped up on her pink pillows, wrapped in a pink blanket, watching Cinderella. Oh, and wearing blue sunglasses. The blue sunglasses were the kicker, especially since it was all done so naturally, without expectation of an audience. I tried covertly to get a picture of her, but she saw me, hunched up one shoulder, and grinned a cheesy grin. Also a natural state for her, but not quite as sincere as watching Cinderella through blue sunglasses.
Later that day she changed out of the pink nightgown into a beautiful blue and white blouse with ruffles down the front and around the hem and cuffs. She had a play date with her best friend that afternoon and was dressed to kill. This was the first time she had worn this shirt and she was so excited. Couldn't keep her eyes off any reflective surface she passed in front of. When her daddy got home that evening, she prepared for her grand entrance. From the other room she called out, "Get ready to be amazed!" Then she came in, ruffles flounced, dimple dimpling, and simply the cutest thing this side of heaven. After her daddy had given the appropriate response and adored her as was her due, he left to change out of his work clothes and she said, "I knew that would pop your eyes." I have said it before, and I don't see any chance of not being able to say it in the future, the girl is a princess.
A few days later I was on my way to the car with my curly-topped, intensely dimpled boy. It was warmish, there was no snow or ice on the sidewalk, and I could see actual patches of grass through the snow on the front yard. Practically balmy. Definite false-promises of spring to come. I couldn't help it. I skipped. The boy stopped in the act of opening the car door, looked at me, and said, "You were skipping." "Yes," I said, "I do that sometimes. I know how, you know." "But," my lovely, angelic boy said, "you're old." Need I add that he was not teasing me?
And then there's my oldest, who has plans to do experiments on me. Yesterday I woke up with a migraine. The medicine I take for migraines knocks me out for several hours (it thankfully also knocks out the migraine). Matthew had to go pick up some business associates from the airport and took Duncan with him, which left Jonathon to take care of Kaes while I spent the rest of the day in a post-migraine, drug-induced coma. I also have a cold that is just not going away, so occasionally I would have these coughing fits that wouldn't quite wake me up enough to do anything about them. Jonathon came in during one of these coughing fits and asked if he could make me some tea to help me feel better. I told him yes. That is all I remember. Apparently, shortly after that, he came back in with the tea and asked me if I wanted it. I mumbled incoherently at him, then rolled over into more coma time. He took the tea and left. When I woke up a few hours later, he told me about our little interchange and I told him about the totally wacky dreams I had (I have VERY strange dreams when I am sleeping because of medicine). Then a little bit after that my boy comes in and says, "Mom, the next time you have a migraine and sleep all day like that, I'm going to come in and if you mumble at me and don't really wake up like you did this time, I'm going to say something really weird to you and see if appears in your dreams." Thank you, son. I'm glad I haven't become old and boring yet.
The other day the princess was sitting under her bed in her pink nightgown, propped up on her pink pillows, wrapped in a pink blanket, watching Cinderella. Oh, and wearing blue sunglasses. The blue sunglasses were the kicker, especially since it was all done so naturally, without expectation of an audience. I tried covertly to get a picture of her, but she saw me, hunched up one shoulder, and grinned a cheesy grin. Also a natural state for her, but not quite as sincere as watching Cinderella through blue sunglasses.
Later that day she changed out of the pink nightgown into a beautiful blue and white blouse with ruffles down the front and around the hem and cuffs. She had a play date with her best friend that afternoon and was dressed to kill. This was the first time she had worn this shirt and she was so excited. Couldn't keep her eyes off any reflective surface she passed in front of. When her daddy got home that evening, she prepared for her grand entrance. From the other room she called out, "Get ready to be amazed!" Then she came in, ruffles flounced, dimple dimpling, and simply the cutest thing this side of heaven. After her daddy had given the appropriate response and adored her as was her due, he left to change out of his work clothes and she said, "I knew that would pop your eyes." I have said it before, and I don't see any chance of not being able to say it in the future, the girl is a princess.
A few days later I was on my way to the car with my curly-topped, intensely dimpled boy. It was warmish, there was no snow or ice on the sidewalk, and I could see actual patches of grass through the snow on the front yard. Practically balmy. Definite false-promises of spring to come. I couldn't help it. I skipped. The boy stopped in the act of opening the car door, looked at me, and said, "You were skipping." "Yes," I said, "I do that sometimes. I know how, you know." "But," my lovely, angelic boy said, "you're old." Need I add that he was not teasing me?
And then there's my oldest, who has plans to do experiments on me. Yesterday I woke up with a migraine. The medicine I take for migraines knocks me out for several hours (it thankfully also knocks out the migraine). Matthew had to go pick up some business associates from the airport and took Duncan with him, which left Jonathon to take care of Kaes while I spent the rest of the day in a post-migraine, drug-induced coma. I also have a cold that is just not going away, so occasionally I would have these coughing fits that wouldn't quite wake me up enough to do anything about them. Jonathon came in during one of these coughing fits and asked if he could make me some tea to help me feel better. I told him yes. That is all I remember. Apparently, shortly after that, he came back in with the tea and asked me if I wanted it. I mumbled incoherently at him, then rolled over into more coma time. He took the tea and left. When I woke up a few hours later, he told me about our little interchange and I told him about the totally wacky dreams I had (I have VERY strange dreams when I am sleeping because of medicine). Then a little bit after that my boy comes in and says, "Mom, the next time you have a migraine and sleep all day like that, I'm going to come in and if you mumble at me and don't really wake up like you did this time, I'm going to say something really weird to you and see if appears in your dreams." Thank you, son. I'm glad I haven't become old and boring yet.
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