Standing out in the crowd

When I was a kid I was immensely shy and reserved. I did what I could to not bring attention to myself -- short of dressing head to toe in gray, to blend into the cinder block walls at school.
Now, it seems like I am constantly doing something ridiculous to draw attention to myself.

One of the more memorable moments that comes to mind happened a couple of years ago. I promised my youngest that I would go to her Halloween parade/party at school. But before I left the house that afternoon, I decided to surprise her and dress up, and I came up with an insane idea of what to wear. I struggled to get the elaborate outfit on, and then drove to the school. I shuffled through the maze of halls to get to her classroom -- of course her room was just about the farthest from the main entrance that you could possibly get.
Ready for the big reveal, I stepped into the doorway.
The room got quiet as they all stared.
The look on my daughter's face was priceless. "Oh god."
Another child asked, "Is that your mom?"
My daughter answered in a tiny deflated voice, "Yes."
There I stood, in full scuba attire: wetsuit, flippers, mask and snorkel. It was my husband's suit from at least twenty years earlier. It was the last thing she would've expected. And even with my fogged up face mask and sounding like Darth Vader as I breathed through the snorkel, she knew it was me.

But the funniest part of the whole thing was that none of the other parents were dressed up. All the uppity moms were lined up with their knitted Halloween/fall sweater vests.
And then there was ME.

Over the years my children have grown immune to my eccentricities, and now it is nearly impossible to embarrass them. Not that I haven't tried.

No More MSG

There's something about chinese restaurants that brings out the "wild" in my family. When I say family, I guess I really mean me. There's the time I flicked the fortune cookie -- like a paper football -- and it hit my daughter right between the eyes. That was the funniest thing I've ever seen. Her head went flying back and the fortune cookie smashed into a million pieces. Don't worry, she was okay.
Then there was the time the bench seat had REALLY springy springs, and my oldest would not stop bouncing. I mean REALLY bouncing. She was gettin' some air! After repeated requests to stop, I shifted in my seat, to bump hip to hip. Well, I happened to catch her on the up-swing ... and she landed on the floor next to the table. Again, we all laughed so hard that we nearly got ourselves kicked out.
Last night we went out for chinese. I came back to the table with a plate of jello, and both my girls giggled. One handed me a straw, and said, "Do it!" while my husband shook his head.
Why is it that kids love the sound of flatulence? Jello-farts are the best.

Immediately after my last post, Neil, AKA That Neil Guy, contacted me for more details regarding number 10 from the "Ten Trivial Truths" list. He wanted to put the story on his blog holydonuts.blogspot.com
I got right back to him with the story, which he posted that night.
Please forgive me, I'm a little slow. That was 7 days ago, and it only now just occured to me to put the story on my own blog. Duh!

The infamous Dunkin’ Donut incident…..
I pulled up to the squawk box and gave my order. Then, this is what I heard:
“That was one large iced coffee with ahhh! Thump. Laugh. Snort.”
I said, “Hello.”
But she was laughing to hard – she couldn’t speak.
So, I drove around the corner wondering what was going on.
That’s when I found the adorable little blond girl lying on the pavement in front of the drive-thru window. As soon as she saw my car, she got up and ran inside.
Moments later, the red-faced blond poked her face through the window, and tried to take my money.
I said, “Not until you tell me what just happened.”
The adorable little blond simply replied, “I saw a shiny quarter on the ground, and thought I could reach it.”

For the Love of All Things Crispy, Don't Call Me Ma'am

I’m gonna let you in on a secret -- just between you and me.
Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Here goes ...
I
am
getting
older.
What, you’re not surprised? Well I am. Quite frankly, I’m pissed off!
I’ve had issues with my age ever since my 26th birthday.
Why 26? Because I was no longer in my early 20’s.

And don’t get me started on the irrational emotions on the eve of my 40th!
Can you say insane? Well, I know my family can.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Three days before my birthday I was in a department store and a sales lady stepped in front of me to show me “wrinkle cream for around the eyes.”
Then, because of the tears, she didn’t think “the cream would be very effective.”
Great! Now what do you have for red puffy eyes?

My 42nd birthday is coming up, and still, I continue to be amazed when people don’t think I’m 24. Why is that?
Last week I went to a department store for a mini makeover. I thought it would be fun -- I guess this time I set myself up for the disappointment.
I asked the girl, “What moisturizer do you recommend to help prevent fine lines? I’m starting to get a little crease between the brows.”
She pulled out a product and began raving about the cream as she applied it, saying, “My mom has that crease, and I told her …”
Her voice trailed off, as it was now drowned out by my own voice screaming in my head.
Mom! Did she just compare me to her mother? Oh my god! How old is this girl? How old is her mother?
I began to rationalize in my head.
Maybe she is, like, er, I don't know, 20. Okay … I guess, I could be her mother. Maybe her mother is young and looks great. But still, NOT cool.
Let me just say: I’m not good at guessing a person’s age. I later found out that she is married with two kids.

Sorry, I'm trying to get to the point.
As I look around, it seems to me that many of my peers are growing old “gracefully.” They seem comfortable with themselves –- even embracing their age and maturity. They act like moms, with their schedules and routines and stuff.
I’ve never been any good at that. I’m laid back. I like to fool around, make jokes, and act crazy with my kids. I listen to Radio Disney when the kids aren't in the car.
I love Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, Jonas, Phineas & Ferb, Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, Suite Life, and iCarly. (Yes, I like TV.)

The long and the short of it, is this: I refuse to grow up. I won’t do it.

Kids...

I had my 2 year old niece, Alison, at my house for about an hour the other day. I was babysitting – with the help of my 12 year old daughter. Why did I need help? Because Alison is fast! That kid could get into a room, find something to grab and be gone in an instant. So, I had my daughter on “shadow” duty.

Alison had gotten into the nativity scene, which by the way is the most religious thing in our house.

As Alison's father was walking in the door to pick her up, I, just so happened to be running through, yelling, “I found Jesus!"
My brother-in-law thought that I'd had some religious awakening. "Huh?"
"No, I literally found Jesus," I said holding out my hand.

People are always saying, “Kids says darnedest things.” Well, I think that they also make adults say some wacky things.
Parents, think about it. How many times have you said something to your child that you never thought you would have to say?
For example:
-No, that’s not a sandbox! That’s where the kitty poops.
-Why did you write “Joe” across your little sister’s forehead IN PERMANENT MARKER!

I would love hear some your funny kid stories.

Road Trip

Remember Mommy’s new car – I first blogged about it in the November 18th post?
She did eventually get a top for it, and one weekend she announced, “We’re going to Reno!”
She wanted me to see snow – for the first time.
On our way back to the San Francisco Bay area it was cold, and slippery. We came to a stretch of road that had recently been plowed, but a sheet of ice remained. The car spun out of control. Around and around we went, down the wide desolate road.
When we came to a stop, Mom sighed in relief, realizing that we were okay.
While I giggled uncontrollably, “That was fun, do it again!”
So, she did. Again, and again, she spun donuts. Just to make me laugh.

Though it seems that my Mom was not aware of a car’s need for antifreeze, and soon learned what can happen without it: a cracked engine block.
That’s pretty bad, right? Well, remember, this is my Mom we’re talking about … it gets worse. The car caught on fire ... in the parking lot, while picking me up from daycare the next day.
Yes, that would be the same daycare I mentioned before. And once again, like she had on many other occasions, the snooty Mrs. Armstrong rolled her eyes as she watched us leave, hoping we would never come back.
You might be asking, what ever happened to the cute little convertible?
Well, Mom only had the car about six months. She had one problem after another with it, and the fire was the last straw.
She had the car towed to the dealership that night. She left the keys inside, with a note that read:
To whom it may concern;
I am sorry, but I cannot take care of this car anymore.
You can have it back.

Mommy's New Car

“I got a new car today!” Mom said, as she excitedly led me out to the driveway.
There sat a tiny white Datsun convertible.
“It’s cute, Mommy,” I giggled, “Where’s the top?”
“Well. It doesn’t have one, that’s why it was so cheap,” Mom answered. “We live in California … we really don’t need one.”
I was four years old, but I wasn’t stupid.
Flash forward to rainy day, me and Mom driving down the California Freeway with an umbrella hovering over the two of us. I held onto that umbrella with all that I had, trying not to let the wind catch it and whip it from my tiny little arms … again.

Just Another Day

I was sitting on the sidewalk hanging out with my friends. The hot sun was beating down on us. I knew it would be time to go soon, and that’s when I thought to myself, I'm glad I parked in the shade.
Right on schedule a voice called out, “She’s here!” That was my cue.
I leapt to my feet. “See ya tomorrow!” Then I took off on my Donald Duck Hippity Hop to greet my mom.
By the way, I’m four years old and my mom’s picking me up from daycare. The friends I was hanging out with were ants, and I played with them everyday. I knew the ins and outs of that colony – who was in charge, who liked who, the workers, and the slackers.
So anyway, I hopped my way from the back play yard – remember, I’m on my Donald Duck Hippity Hop – and through the large classroom to the front door, where my mom was waiting.
Mrs. Armstrong was talking to Mom, again, “I’m just concerned that she hasn’t made any friends. She just sits on the sidewalk watching the ants all day.”
Mom just shook her head. “What am I supposed to do?” Truth was Mom wished I didn’t have to go to that crappy daycare.
“And what’s with the Hippity Hop?” Mrs. Armstrong said in a disgusted manner, as she looked down at me sitting on said Hippity Hop, with wide eyes looking at the grownups talking.
Mom just gave me a big smile, and said, “Let’s go sweetheart.”
As I hopped out the front door – did I mention I’m on my Donald Duck Hippity Hop? – I looked back at Mrs. Armstrong, flashed her a toothy grin and waved. “See ya tomorrow!”
Note: I had my Donald Duck Hippity Hop until I was thirteen. True story.