First of all, I”m glad to hear that I am not the only one with a holy terror of the parental visit. Thanks gals for all your comments (is it weird that it is only GIRLS that commented? I THINK NOT!)

So yesterday, the note on the kindergarten board that informs parents what their kids did that day, held huge news. The kindergarteners had compiled and were taking home – their Kindergarten Phone book, with the names and phone numbers of everyone in their class.

Ethan was, to say the least, excited. He also held a little scrap of paper which he said was Austin’s phone number. As to why this number wasn’t in the phone book, he couldn’t say.

While I was picking up kids, James had arrived home and was starting dinner when Ethan received his first phone call. James was somewhat disconcerted, not knowing that kindergarteners everywhere were doubtless phoning up their buddies all over the prince william county area. He made sure a parent was near, took a message and then promptly called me.

“You’ll never guess who just called.”
“Someone for Ethan?”
“YES!”

Tee hee. I should have placed money on it.

“You got your first phone call, Ethan! Sean called you!”
“What did daddy tell him?”
“He told him you’d call him back when you got home.”
“ALL RIGHT! I’M GOING TO CALL HIM BACK!”

When we got home, Sean received his return phone call, Austin was also called and not being home, a message left for him. Then Lucy was called, and they discussed plans for meeting at the park in the near future. Other things that were discussed: Ethan’s upcoming birthday party and Austin’s upcoming birthday party.

After each phone call, Ethan usually beamed with pride and declared, “MY VERY FIRST PHONE CALL!!” (even if it was, at that point, his 3rd or even 4th.)

Jocelyn was not to be outdone, and wanted to make some phone calls of her own, so I let her call Grandma and Grandpa. They weren’t home, so she left a message for them. Ethan got a return phone call from Austin while he was in the bathtub (which was a fantastic way to get him out of the tub, which is always a chore). Grandma called Jocelyn back in about 10 minutes, and Jocelyn said “Hi Grandma! BYE!” and then passed the phone to me.

Yes, indeed, I’m surprised that the phone lines were able to manage all the extra usage as many 6 year olds (AND THEIR SIBLINGS!) tied up lines everywhere to call their friends they had just seen hours earlier.

This morning before getting dressed, he wanted to call Jenni. I managed to forestall that one, by saying she might be at school already.

Boy oh boy. OH boy.

the dinner table.

Jocelyn has been bouncing in her chair for the last five minutes.

This is a sign that she needs to pee.

“Jocelyn? Do you need to pee?”

“I DON’T NEED TO PEE!”

….

10 minutes later.

Jocelyn has been sitting on the potty for the last five minutes, singing to herself and kicking the stool over and over.

“Jocelyn, finish up!”

“I AM!!!!!!!”

….

5 minutes later.

Jocelyn is still sitting on the potty.

Jocelyn is still kicking the stool.

“Jocelyn, finish up.”

“ALL RIGHT!!!!”

…

5 minutes later.

Jocelyn is standing up, pants around her ankles, and has been distracted from getting a wad of toilet paper by who the fuck knows.

“Jocelyn! Wipe, pull up your pants, flush, and wash your hands already!”

Big exhale of breath. “I AM! I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!”

james: It’s like she’s a grown woman.

me: *laugh* why’s that?

james utters not a word.

me: because she takes forever in the bathroom?

not a word from james.

me: she can’t pull up her pants? she can’t flush??

nothing from james.

me: WHAT?? Why is she like a grown woman??

Finally:

james: She doesn’t listen.

If you are a follower of the crafty blogs, then you may be as overjoyed as I was to hear that Claire at Loobylu is starting up her blog again!

YAY!!

Sometime ago, I related the first tale of Ethan kissing on the playground. With a girl named Jeni in his class. We haven’t heard any other tales of this sort of behavior.

Until now.

It’s valentine’s day, right, so when the kids came home and unloaded all their valentine’s day party look, the kitchen table was pretty much covered with cards, candy, pictures, candy, cards, candy, empty wrappers, and some candy.

I was trying to get some more details about the parties and I picked through the cards and inspected what other mom’s had gotten their kids to give for valentines. (I was definitely the worst/cheapest/busiest mom, btw. My kids gave very generic valentines, with no extra goodies attached, in the midst of handmade, boxes of nerds, a barrel of monkeys (big hit, btw), temporary tatoos, lollipops, etc.) I noticed a couple of things from Jeni. Not valentines, or rather, not the valentines that were probably given with everyone else’s — a drawing that was probably done in the afternoon. It was a picture of dolphins with little hearts sprinkled everywhere. Very cute. I noticed it (and btw, he’s always drawing pictures for his friends, and bringing home drawings made for him by friends, so nothing unusual here) and commented on it to Ethan, and somehow got into this convoluted conversation:

Ethan: Me and Jeni love each other.

Ethan: But we had to go behind the tire.

me: Behind the tire?

Ethan: Yes. Because Mrs. T. doesn’t like it when we give loves.

James: Give loves?

Ethan: Yeah. So then Mrs. T couldn’t SEE US!

First of all, I’m pretty much dying at this point, having to cover my mouth to keep from giggling and smiling from the cuteness of it all. But I also wanted to know *what* exactly was going on behind the tire. I am very cognizant of the fact that he has not actually said “kiss” anywhere.

I tried to get more information and had to muddle through him pointing at his mouth (it was dinnertime) to indicate he was chewing and couldn’t talk, muttering, “I don’t want to TALK about it..” with stoic 5 year old rolling of the eyes, when finally:

me: What exactly went on behind the tire?

Ethan: We rubbed cheeks.

This is very characteristic of Ethan. He is a very snuggly boy, always up for a hug and a cuddle, always hugging his Pookie bear, and sometimes just grabbing my hand and rubbing it gently on his cheek. Lately, his compliment of choice is, “You’re the best, mommy/daddy.” We hear that at least half a dozen times a day. We’re not complaining 🙂

He’s a marshmellowy sweetie.

Just like his daddy.

On the way up to bed:

Jocelyn: Mommy, how long is it at bedtime?

Mommy: It’s bedtime now! We’re going to go get you in bed! Right now! No waiting, fast service, zip zap zoom!

Jocelyn: Is it a short one?

Mommy: It’s not naptime, honey. It’s nighttime. It’ll be nighttime until morning.

Jocelyn: How long is that?

Mommy: Well, it’s–

Ethan: I know. It’s ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY THREE POUNDS.

the living room.

our heros, amy and james are sitting in their respective seats, laptops on lap. TV is on, but paused in front of them, and has been for some time.

The silence broken only by the sound of keyboards clicking now and then.

amy: *frown*

amy: “Are we out of internet?”

james: *click click*

james: “I beleive we are out of internet.”

amy: “Hmm. Funny, there’s still a teeny bit left. Enough for me to click on stuff in gmail.”

james: That IS odd.

amy: “Oop. Nope. It’s gone now.”

james: “We’ll have to pick up some more internet tommorrow.”

amy: “I can stop on my way home from work.”

james: “Ok.”

—-

a few minutes later, but now, james is watching a show via the xbox. the file he is watching is located downstairs on his desktop computer.

tv: *video is lagging strangely from the sound*

amy: is it supposed to be like that?

james: no.. are you transfering any files or something?

amy: Nope.

james: Looks like we’re out of network too.

amy: Ok. I’ll pick up some of that too.

-end scene-

This happened just so straight out of the blue in the middle of the usual dinner chaos that it left me and James staring at each blinking, thinking, “Did this really just happen?”

Ethan: Daddy, what do you want? (i think he was refering to like, the salt or something, but James went with it.)
James: I want peace on earth. Goodwill toward men.
Ethan: HA!
James: What about you mommy?
me: I want my kids to be happy and healthy.
Ethan: YEAH!
Jocelyn: I want my friends TO! BE! HAPPY! (fist in the air, all black panther, FIGHT-THE-POWER-like)
me: You do?
Jocelyn: YES! HAPPY! (fist! fist!)
James: How about you Ethan?
Ethan: I like FLOWERS and KITTIES!!
me: Well ok then!

It was very cute, and kind of surreal.

“I am not really make-up-ey.” (Can I be any more of a dork? She knew that just looking at my blotchy face!)

“Mousse? Mousse foundation? Do you still have that?” (because I got some long ago, when I was preparing for my wedding, which was, oh SEVEN years ago.) (and yes, they did still have it, and it’s awesome.)

“Sheer? What does that mean exactly?” (It’s a scale of how much makeup it looks like you’re wearing. Sheer = not much at all! less sheer = Tammy Faye Baker! Oh the things I learn! the mousse foundation is very sheer.)

“Face soap? In bar form? So I can stick it in the shower and might actually USE it?” (Didn’t have that, but had some other neato stuff that is a wash and toner all in one. Since I don’t know what toner is, I was impressed.)

“Oooooooh. This smells nice! Maybe I’ll tell my husband to get me some for Christmas.”
“Tell him it’s called, Blah blah blah blah.”
“(already forgotten) … I’ll just tell him to get the purple bottle.”

I haven’t stood at the make-up counter in a major department store for quite some time. I used to just trust my mother to look at me, shake her head in disappointment, and then give me stuff in hopes that I might, one day, use it. Now that I’m older, (and much farther away) now I just don’t really do anything. I put on some mascara if you’re lucky, and for a cleaning regime, sometimes I swipe my face with the Dove bar in my shower (soap, not chocolate covered ice cream), but not very often, because it leaves my face feeling tight and extra shiny.

So, I WOULD be good for another 7 years with no standing at the make-up counter, except that the counter lady gave me samples of a moisturizer (Perpetual Moisture 24 hr lotion) that make my face feel like satin, especially after I use the wash/toner stuff in the shower.

So I am going to have to get me some of that.

My mother must have gotten to her somehow.

This lunch was sometime last year, and I wrote this up and then didn’t post it for whatever reason. I thought I’d post it now.

“Ooohhhh, the second trimester is the best. that’s the trimester when you get randy.”
“randy? what are you, from the 70s?”

“ooh, i want some of your corn stuff.”
“me too, me too!”
“hey that was my fork! you used my fork!”
“well, I promise I don’t have germs.”
“oh, i’m not afraid of your germs.”
“ok, then maybe after we could kiss a little.”

“get all the sex now, in the 2nd trimester, because it could be a YEAR after that baby is born.”
“A YEAR!?!” (heard from all males at the table, except the ones with kids. ok, only 2 males exclaimed.)
“well, that’s going a bit far, but definitely a few months.”
“look at him. we just ruined his day.”
“it is a lot easier with the 2nd and 3rd baby.”
“yes but this is his FIRST baby! we have to prepare him!”
“when i get home, i’m getting busy.”

“so how about you, when was the last time you’ve had sex?”

“seriously, why so long? a few MONTHS?”
“she needs time and she shouldn’t be pressured.”
“but why that long?”
“all i’m saying, is don’t pressure her.”
“and get some good lube.”

“you’re totally exhausted all the time, you usually are covered in assorted baby drool, spitup or poop..”
“you’ve got a baby and your breasts are being sucked on all the time!”
“hell, she’s got that now.”

“i think we should drink at every friday lunch.”
“if we get some lesbian action, i’m all for it.”

so this past weekend has been a busy busy one. I actually dreamed Saturday morning that it was halloween night and I hadn’t made Jocelyn’s costume, and couldn’t find her boots and the people that opened the door to her were like, “Uhhh… what is she supposed to be?” James said it sounded like those dreams he has of not finishing his homework in time. Ergh. – Random tangent. Whenever I was sick and had those messed up feverish dreams in high school, I was always doing math problems. Trying to solve for X, what was X? Lines and lines of working out the 2 sides of an algebraic problem trying to find x in that weird dreaming state where everything is surreal and yet you can feel the pencil gripped tightly in your hand as you cancel out the +2 on both sides, etc. You would think this means that algebra was my worst nightmare, but the opposite was true. I love math. Tangent over.

So this weekend I made Jocelyn’s costume, broke my sewing machine (it is now “out of timing” according to the repairman) had to hand sew the last bits, made gingerbread cookies for Ethan’s class, along with other non-time-pertinent things. We all went to Costco (where miraculously, Ethan NOR Jocelyn saw the rows and rows of toys and demanded to be driven down them) to get more floor padding stuff to go under the laminate flooring in the basement, which I am finally trying to get going on again. There is a sad corner of about 6′ by 3′ that is started on. It is going to be a pain in the ass just because of how much shit we have in that room. Not really anywhere to move it to, so it’s tricky. The nice thing about laminate is as soon as part of it is laid, you can put stuff on it right away. I just need to get some done so some stuff can be moved over onto it to make room for the rest of the floor to be laid. It’s a catch 22.

Anyway, I was all nervous about remembering the items that needed to get done for Halloween and the kids’ school “Masquerade” party. This is because I guess Halloween is evil and they don’t want to celebrate it. So instead, they make masks and have a party the DAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN. That’s right. THe party was Monday. When did I think it was? Today, of course. HALLOWEEN. Ergh. So even though we HAD the cookies all made for Ethan’s party (gingerbread cookie cutouts no less, not just drop cookies) and HAD the bag of candy for Jocelyn’s party (someone else had already signed up for cupcakes, so I grabbed candy), I thought the party was on Tuesday. And so nothing went in to school. Ethan was sad that there weren’t any cookies at his class party. Jocelyn was kind of oblivious, and kept calling the bag of candy, “MY BIRTHDAY PARTY! I WANT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!” (“You mean your MASQUERADE PARTY CANDY, honey.” “YEAH! MY PARTY CANDY! MY BIRTHDAY PARTY CANDY!” Bah.)

Anyway. Kind of bummed. After the kids were in bed, and we had watched 2 fraking episodes of Battlestar Galactica (we’re still on season 1), I sighed.

me: “I can’t beleive the parties were today. I mean, I made cookies! I bought candy! You would think the damn party would be tomorrow, ON HALLOWEEN.”

james: “Yeah. That sucks.”

me: *sigh* “I’m a bad mother.”

james: *flips a page in his magazine.*

me: *glares at him*

james: *totally oblivious. FINALLY looks up. sees me looking at him.*

me: *gives him a more obvious glare, that says, “welllllll?”*

james: *the cogs finally start to turn in his head* finally he blurts out, “You’re not a bad mother.”

me: *glancing down at my pretend watch on my wrist*

james: *blush*

me: “You are fired.”