French Fries

Last Sunday the girls had a basketball tournament. They barely had enough time to eat and change into their uniforms in between church and the first game.

That was all the excuse I needed to get them fast food for lunch.


Okay, so here's what smells good in a car:  French fries while you're eating them.

Here's what doesn't smell good in a car:  French fries 3 days after you've eaten them.


So every day after the Sunday tournament I kept smelling french fries in the car, and it was driving me CRAZY. Usually that smell only lasts a few hours, but this time it was determined to stick around.

What made it worse was that I kept forgetting to check the backseat, before driving off, for that lone fry that I knew must have been dropped and smashed, so while sitting at stoplights I'd crane my neck to try and locate the offending potato. Nothing!!

Finally, on the 3rd day ...

Me:  Ugh!! WHY does it STILL smell like FRENCH FRIES in here?!? 

No response.

Me:  Megan, is there a french fry back there on the floor or something?

Megan:  Yeah.

Me:  Can you hand it to me please?

Megan:  Yeah.

She then proceeded to hand me not 1 french fry, but an entire SERVING of french fries that had been stashed in the little pouch on the back of my front seat!!! 

OH MY WORD!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?!?!?

If this happens again, I may have to threaten them with my cooking.

She's a TWEEN

I officially have an almost-teenager. Check out her latest demonstration of indifference:

Meg went to a friend's house after school Monday. That left Amanda and I to fend for ourselves until A) Meg returned home, or B) I left for an evening meeting at school.

The time was growing closer for me to leave, so it was looking like I'd be on my way before Meg showed up. I made a quick pit stop first, then addressed Amanda's couch potato state before heading out ...

Me:  Okay, Meg should be here any minute so make SURE you don't put your ear buds in, because you need to be able to hear her knock at the door. Wait, we're talking about Megan, so you need to be able to hear her 100 door bell rings when she arrives.

Then right on cue, the door bell began to ring incessantly. 

Me:  Wow, did I call that or what?

Amanda:  Mom, she's been ringing it for a while now.

Me:  And you just sat there not answering it?!

Amanda:  I thought YOU were gonna' get it.

Me:  I WAS IN THE BATHROOM.

Amanda shrugged and went back to her electronic game, still completely unconcerned that Megan remained outside in the cold ringing the doorbell forever and a day.


Why, yes, as a matter of fact, she IS 12 years old. 


Lord, help me.

H + T = ?

I have a friend named Hope. She's the kind of person that brings out the happy in people. :)

This past weekend I had the pleasure of helping her get settled into her new home, while our hubbies installed the surround sound system. It was one of those weekends where by the end of it you're exhausted yet energized at the same time because it was just so much fun being together!!

Maybe a little too fun ...

Amanda: Dad, you know that place called Sew-N-Sew?

Henry: No.

Me: It's where Roger gets his alterations done.

Amanda: Well today we saw a car with a license plate that said Sew + Sew.

Henry: Hmm.

Amanda: I didn't know you could have a plus sign on a license plate.

Henry: Maybe you could have a plus sign, or a minus sign, or a greater than or less than sign.

Girls laugh.

Amanda: Maybe you should get one that says: H + T = L ...

Megan interrupts and asks:  H + T? You mean 'Hope + Tami'?

Amanda:  No.  'HENRY + Tami = Love'

Megan:  No. 'HOPE + Tami = BFF'

Henry: No. 'Hope + Tami = L O U D'


VERY funny, husband. 

And for the record, I'd just like to say that the downstairs floor of Hope's new home is all tile without any area rugs yet, so our laughter was somewhat amplified beyond our control. I'm not saying we didn't enjoy the sound of our own voices, but still, we weren't THAT loud. Right Hope? ;)

Basketball or Boxing?

Amanda and Megan's basketball season is officially over. It was fun seeing their confidence build as the season progressed. By the final game, I was actually shocked to see just how aggressive Amanda had become while playing. I wish, oh how I wish, I had taken a picture of her "game face" while on defense. YIKES!!


Me:  Your expression while playing defense was SCARY today.

Amanda:  Yeah, and I told that one girl, 'Do NOT push me.'

Me:  You did? Just like that?! (It was a very intimidating voice.)

Amanda: Yeah.

Me:  Wow.

Amanda:  And I love hitting people.

Me:  Uh, you're not supposed to do that.

Amanda:  It's not a FOUL. It's being AWESOME.


Good grief. Who IS she?!?!  

Looks like basketball ended JUST IN TIME.

Pet Petitions

I've mentioned on Facebook how obsessed my girls are with pets. 

I may have even blogged about the fact that the only reason we let them have puppies, was to keep my youngest ALIVE. It's true. When we first moved to this neighborhood, Meg was 4 years old, and she would walk up and down the street, knocking on doors to ask if she could come in and pet their dogs.

Now before you start judging me on why I let her do this, please know that I was not aware that she was doing this!! Not until, that is, a man covered in tattoos walked her back home ...

Tattoo Man: Hi, are you Megan's mom?

Me: I am.

Tattoo Man: Well Megan just knocked on my door and asked if she could come in to pet my dog Charlie.

Me: She DID?

Tattoo Man: She did. I told her I should probably meet her mom first.

Me: Yes. Thank you. Thank you very, very much.

Okay. So 2 things came of this little encounter. 

1) I no longer make quick judgements about people covered in tattoos. And truth be told, one of the reasons I don't have a tattoo is because I have such an addictive gene in me, that I'd totally be one of those people who couldn't stop after the first one and end up with a body suit. Not even kidding.

2) The girls got puppies, STAT.

Alright, fast forward to life with dogs, and they're STILL not satisfied. I've repeatedly said, "No" to cats, fish, rats, mice, hermit crabs, hamsters, guinea pigs, bunnies, birds, etc.  But they're still at it.

Why? It's hard to say. I suppose it might have something to do with the fact that we now own 2 hermit crabs and 8 fish.

Yep, they wore me down on the sea creatures. BIG mistake, because NOW they're RELENTLESS in their begging for other critters.

Here's Meg's birthday card to me a few months ago:

Did you catch the P.S. ??? "I need a hamster". Happy birthday indeed.

Then just this morning, I went to add an item to my grocery list, only to find THIS:

That's right, I'm supposed to pick up some crunchy peanut butter, oh, and a pet rat.

The good news is: We're not allowed to have roaming pets inside the house. 

God obviously knew I would need some back-up on this.

Meg: Bathroom Monitor

Last week, out of the blue ...

Megan:  Today in the middle stall, there was toilet paper on the floor crumpled up with something that looked like poop on it.

Me:  Gross.

Megan: And then you know that box that has tampons and stuff in it?

Me:  Yeah ...

Megan:  THAT had a pair of UNDERWEAR sticking out of it!

Me:  Wow, really?

Megan: Yeah, but it wasn't MY underwear.

Me:  I never thought it was.

Megan:  And I can prove it.

Me:  I believe you.

She then stands up and pulls down just enough of her waistband to expose her underwear.

Me:  Okay great. 

And then she started doing a happy dance while singing, "I proved it. Oh yeah, I proved it."


Having been on jury duty for the past few days, I couldn't help but think how much more enjoyable this civic duty might be if attorneys presented their facts with such enthusiasm. Meg could even teach a class at law school for the "I proved it" dance.

Math Much?

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!  No, not Christmas ... Chocolate Candy Bar School Fundraiser Time!!  And yes, I'm being completely sarcastic!!!

I guess I wouldn't mind this particular fundraiser so much, if I didn't end up purchasing most of the chocolate bars MYSELF.  It's just so much easier to hand the girls a World's Finest, than actually cook them dinner.

Tonight ...

Megan:  Mom, I only have 59 cents. Can I borrow one cent?

Me:  Why do you need 60 cents?

Megan:  To buy a candy bar.

Me:  But they're a dollar.

Megan:  Wait, how many cents is a dollar?

Me:  ONE HUNDRED!?

I wonder if the school would let us borrow some of the fundraising money for a math tutor ...



Note after the fact: A friend suggested that perhaps Meg got her money and time facts mixed up. There are 60 minutes in an hour, so there must be 60 cents in a dollar, right? Makes sense to me. :)





 

The UGGS Have Landed!!

You might recall that Megan has had a mild obsession with UGGS but with a $120+ price tag and her track record for destroying boots within 6 weeks, she knows it's up to her to raise the money for them.

So for Christmas, whenever a family member would ask her what she wanted, she would promptly say, "Money." And then I would promptly say, "She's saving for a pair of UGGS."

Well, a week before Christmas, we spent a delightful morning with a dear friend and her kids, eating breakfast at her house in our jammies (If you've never done this with a friend before, I highly recommend it! The girls and I literally rolled out of bed and into the car, and over to her house where we ate and gabbed COMFORTABLY for almost 4 hours! So much fun! Especially since I wasn't the one cooking! Hee hee!) 

ANYWAY, while we were there, Megan spotted a pair of UGGS in her friend's bedroom. When she asked about them, the friend informed her that they were too small for her and that she could have them if she wanted.

OH MY WORD. You would have thought the heavens had opened up! Megan came running in with the UGGS, exclaiming that her friend had given them to her because they didn't fit her anymore!!!  I looked at her mom questioningly, who assured me that they were in fact too small, and that they were Meg's for the taking if they fit.

Well you KNOW they FIT!! Meg was gonna' make SURE of THAT.

The rest of the afternoon went something like this ...

Mom. It's only been 10 minutes and I almost forgot I have UGGS!! 

Mom, do you think that girl saw that I have UGGS? 

Mom, look! She's wearing UGGS, and SO AM I !!!!

Later that night, Meg's prayer was:

Dear Jesus, thank you for this day. 
Thank you that I could get U-G-G-S, EEEEEE!!!!! 
And thank you that milk is a part of this world. 
In Jesus' name, amen!!

Here's a photo of Meg that afternoon at her first eye exam. Of course, when I told her I wanted to take a picture of her she said, "Okay, but be sure to get my UGGS."

It will be a sad day, nay, an UGGly day when these no longer fit.

Until then, she's loving every minute of it!!

Don't Bother Arguing with Meg

Amanda and Megan are on the same basketball team. The reason for this is that we didn't have enough 5th and 6th grade girls go out for basketball, so the coach opened it up to some 4th grade girls who were hanging out at the practices anyway, waiting for their older sisters to finish.  This arrangement works out GREAT for us, because the girls are on the same practice/game schedule. Yay!!

Our games are played at a Catholic school in town, and on that campus is housing for staff of the church and school.  At least, I think that's who lives there.

Anyway, today as we were driving in, we saw many young kids playing outside one of the houses ...

Henry:  Looks like a celebration's going on.

Megan:  Well, they're Chinese, so it's probably Hanukkah. 

Me:  Uh ...

Henry:  Well, they're HMONG, not Jewish, so I doubt it's Hanukkah.

Megan:  Whatever. It's Hanukkah.

Case closed.   The end.   Buh-bye.



Oh, and the girls won their game by 1 point.  So Happy Hanukkah indeed!!

Sister's Hide in the Side Pocket

It was Thanksgiving (yes, I'm a little behind on my posts), and we were celebrating with family.  Family that happens to have a pool table.

Dinner was over, and I had managed to roll myself into the family room while the girls went to shoot pool.  

I'm guessing they had played with each other maybe 10 minutes when Meg came running into the room where I was (key word: WAS) enjoying a quiet moment to my gluttonous self.

Megan:  Amanda hurt my fingers with the balls!

Me, already feeling the effects of the turkey coma:  Balls?

Megan:  We were playing pool and she rolled them into my fingers. HARD.

Me, noticing that she wasn't crying and/or cradling her maimed appendages: Are you okay?

Megan:  Yes.

Me:  Sooooo what do you want me to do?

Megan, in her best mafia voice:  GET. HER. IN. TROUBLE.

Me:  Right.

And with that, quiet time was over, and I sent up an extra word of  "Thanks" to the One who blessed me with these two turkeys that keep me laughing ... even when they don't mean to.