avian-entomologist:

(while mommy & ella are laying down, just after turning off the light)
m: ella, please settle down. be quiet and listen to the crickets.
e: those aren't crickets, they're chermites
m: you mean termites?
e: no, ch-ch-ch-chermites, they're a type of chirping bird
m: oh, cool, listen to those then.

Mama Confession #4:

I'm starting to like and let my kids watch Tom & Jerry. I used to be adamant that T&J never make their way to our television, I thought it was way too violent for my innocent little humans, I even went as far as hiding the DVD in the kitchen cupboard and telling Ella that it was lost (she found it when she was looking for fish food). So why have I turned? Because there is no dialogue! Just nice jazz music or violins with the occasional BOINGGG! or SPAT!!!...sure, Tom spends his days trying to kill little Jerry, but I don't have to listen to it. No, "Can we fix it BOB?" or "Meeska-Mooska!" or that annoying little bilingual brunette and her talking backpack. So, for now, when mama is Playhouse Disney'd out...bring on the anvils!

Momentous Tuesday!

Ella wore jeans AND get this--a ponytail on tuesday!!! For those of you that know Miss Ella know that she hasn't worn a pair of jeans since she was about 18 months old and has forbade me from putting a ponytail in her hair as she thinks she looks like a boy. Yeah for kindergarten and peer pressure! My guess is most of the friends wear jeans and ponytails and Ella is starting to realize that it really is the all-american style.

speechless:

Future Vegetarian:

(in regard to the 15 pounds of pork shoulder I bought at Costco)
e: mom, what is that?
m: it's pork
e: like, from a pig?
m: yes, it's from a pig
e: well, what happened to the pig after they took that out?
m: the pig died.
e: (starts crying) you mean when they take those out the pigs die?? (bawling now)
m: yes, honey.
e: but why do they have to die? (major tears and sniffling)
m: because that is what God decided. God decided that we would eat pigs and that they would die. That's called the food chain.
e: so why didn't joie and jake die when they took that out of them?
m: took what? you mean when they took out their parts to make puppies?
e: yes. why didn't they die?
m: (thinking that this is really getting deep) oh, 'cause that was just a little surgery, they didn't take that stuff out to eat.
e: oh. (still crying)

6:35 am:

g: mama! dance!!
m: what? dance?
g: yep! mama, dance, peese!

Super Sweet Sister:

Wednesday was Library day. Well, now they call it Media Room or something lame. Anyhow, Ella is allowed to "rent" as she says, two books each week. Yesterday as I took the books out of her backpack she said, "Mom, I got one for me and one for Buddy!!!....I thought he'd like the garbage truck book!" Sure enough, she "rented" a book for her little brother and at bedtime when I asked her if she wanted me to read it to her she said, "No, I got that one for Grant, not me."

Virgin Poison Control Caller:

PC: Hello, Poison Control, could you hold please?
Mama: Um, yeah, I guess. [Hold?! What? My son could be dying and you're putting me on hold?!]
pc: Poison Control, how can I help you?
m: hi, yeah, my son ate toothpaste. I think about an ounce or so. The kid's kind. but not the infant kind without flouride, the kind with flouride....and isn't it the flouride that's toxic??
pc: [whoa crazy lady, let me talk] How old is your son?
m: 27 months.
pc: Oh ok, just over two.....he ate just an ounce?
m: yeah, I think so.
pc: Oh, we don't worry about an ounce. Two ounces is the magic number when it comes to toothpaste. He'll be fine. He might vomit a few times, but nothing to worry about.
m: oh, alright, thanks for your help, I can sleep now [yes, yes, I am crazy...I already know that, but thanks]
pc: Can I get your zipcode?
m: [oh, no, they're going to put me on the same list that the fire & police have me on!!] Um....yeah.....55364. [don't ask me my name, don't ask me my name....]
pc: Thank you ma'am, have a good night.
m: yep thanks! [now go help someone who's son has swallowed a bottle of drano or ate a rat poison sandwich]

mama confession #3

I yelled. Really yelled today. More than once. I'm up for the-worst-mom-of-the-year-award after today (not bad though, considering it's september and I made it 9 months without an official nomination). Ella was trying to reason me into letting her wear flip flops, "I'll just bring them along in my back-pack" and "these shoes make me look like a boy" and "If you don't let me wear my flip-flops, I'll ruin your flowers!" and "but can I just wear them for a minute??"...on and on and on. After 2 hours in the morning and 4 hours in the evening of hearing why flip-flops should be the only shoe in production--I lost it. Totally lost it. "ENOUGH ABOUT THE FLIP-FLOPS!!! SERIOUSLY, STOP. I WILL THROW THEM IN THE GARBAGE IF I HEAR ANOTHER WORD ABOUT FLIP-FLOPS. YOU ARE NOT WEARING THEM TO SCHOOL AND IF YOU KEEP WHINING ABOUT THEM YOU WILL NOT WEAR THEM EVER AGAIN!"
oooooops.
All the while that was happening, Grant was going for the olympic time-out gold medal. Every time I turned around he attacked his sister, full-blown hit/scratch attack. She'd freak...and I mean, freak, like she may as well had just had her foot cut off....with a butter knife. Time-out. 1 minute on the naughty rug (which, for a two year old is an eternity). "Say sorry to your sister for hitting. [yelling, sort of] WE DO NOT HIT!! Hitting makes owies. You hurt Ella." g: "Sowwy Ewwa...."........and, repeat. again and again and again....."sowwwyy. Me nice." [yeah, right-you'll do it again in five minutes] and then! he thought it was funny to eject her DVD mid-scene, which means, since we are the only americans w/o a DVD player and use an old PS2 to watch movies, you need to start over at the beginning every time. Again with the cutting of the foot...three more times. I'm surprised someone didn't call the police, oh but wait, even if they had, they wouldn't have come...."oh, just the albrecht's again, probably mystery carbon monoxide or the little twerp dialed 911--just ignore it."
6:00: OMG, WHERE IS YOUR DADDY?!?! Mommy is about to lose it.
7:00: Daddy calls, going to bar for one beer with John (thanks john, just swell-super great timing)
7:45: Daddy calls, did really only have one beer (good job daddy!), Mommy says, Can you stop at the liquor store, get me 2 bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes? no joke. it was a really, really long day.

I wonder who I'm up against for my award and what should I wear for my acceptance speech...

ps. my first official day with only one child was lovely from 9-3. As for 6-9am and 3-9pm it was awful.

It's official!

10.5 hours & counting....

'Twas the night before the first day of the rest of my life.....here come thirteen years of friends, recess, boys, gym class (or lack thereof, depending on where we are politically), italian dunkers, trips to the science museum, boys, football games, designer duds, boys, school buses, ski trips, notes (or texts, I suppose), vending machines, boys, crabby teachers, great teachers, classes that suck, classes that don't suck as much, boys, #2 pencils, playgrounds, flashcards, scantron sheets.......oh lord....here come the tears....again........no turnin' back........stay tuned..................

Labor Day Weekend in Pictures:

Family potty time:

FOUR of the TWELVE grandkids (boppy & daddy too):

"I really just like the marshmallows....
the crackers and chocolate really just get in the way"

daddy & mama:

Almost kindergartner (almost big islander) cruisin' Lake Minnetonka:

Jack & Grant, buddies at the lake:

"No really.....a little sand in the crotch is fine......."

kindergarten jitters

e: MOM! I can't go to kindergarten, I don't know math!
m: oh, honey, it's okay, that's the kind of thing you learn in kindergarten...
e: well, I know 2+3 is 5 and 10 +2 is 12......
m: Well, I'd say you know math then....really honey, I think you'll do fine.

it's a butterfly, baby!

Sisterly advice:

e: Don't worry Grant, someday you'll have a big penis like daddy....

8 days & counting:

I finally cried. I had held myself together all summer, knowing Ella was embarking on a new chapter of her life and all was well. Then, I got the envelope. THE envelope. The name tag to pin on her shirt, the PIN number for her hot lunches, the payment coupons for all day kindergarten (thanks, Mr. Bush) and the letter. The letter that read: Dear Ella, I can't wait to meet you.....I have so many fun things planned for us......we'll have a great year.....Love, Ms. Elling. Tears. Lots of tears. Now starts 13 years of best friends, worst friends and designer jeans.

Life Sentence:

If I ever find myself in a courtroom awaiting sentencing, forget jail...just give me a stack of Potterybarn catalogs. I cannot look through one of those without saying...oh I wish I had the money for....and oh that is so freakin cute....and oh if only we had a bigger house....

true punishment.

What IS this?!

The person who thought "Let's put a gigantic head of a StarWars guy on a little space-ship thing and sell them at McDonalds!" better have lost his job (I rudely assume it's a "he," as a "her" would never have let this fly) This thing is down-right disturbing:

"Hey Honey!
Let's put a few rocks around the fire pit..."

I've birthed a new baby blog:

life...by-the-numbers

14 Days & Counting:

Potterybarn Monogrammed Backpack with matching lunchbag?
Check!

Back-Off Mama Bird!

An overheard conversation between Ella and Mystery Neighborhood Boy:
MNB: Shut-up you! You have a big fat blubbery mouth!
(Whoa....there buddy! In swoops over protective mama bird:)
mama: Hey! Don't you dare talk to my daughter that way!

What, Mama Bird?!?! Haven't those parenting magazines taught you anything?!
Ooooooops. Strike one. What I should have said was "Hey! We don't talk to our friends that way....let's use nice words!"

Oh well, maybe next time.
For now, I'm officially the mean mom on the hill.

What happens when a working mom of two manages to squeeze in 50 hours of work into her 4 day work week, and over-commits herself to meetings and/or activities every evening? This:

on bees & birds:

e: mom, does jesus just decide when you should have a baby in your tummy and put one in? or do you have to ask him to put a baby inside?
c: well, kind of both. really, it's quite complicated.
e: oh.

(whew, that was easy. and no, I don't have a baby in my tummy)

now, THIS is a s'more fest:

l to r: jake the dog, Montana the cute neighbor, Ella the five-year-old turned twelve-year-old, Jarek the neighbor/gangster, Daddy the roasting supervisor, Joie the other dog, and little G the marshmallow eater....nevermind the grahams....give the boy a "Mar-mah-yoh!"

What a difference four years and a ton of elbow grease makes:

Sale-Pending, April 2004:

(ryan had to convince cara that it might someday be a house she would like...and that since we had sold our townhouse in four hours it really would be wise to find a place to live)

Summer 2008: finally more than just a house.

mama confession #2:

I bought $84 conditioner. Eighty-four-dollars! Justification: I only wash my hair 1-2 times per week and one bottle lasts me about a year, so that comes out to being roughly 80 cents per use. I won't buy lunch for two weeks to make up for it... bad, bad mommy.

e: grant, I don't have a peepee, can you say vagina?
g: ba-jeye-na! yea! ba-jeye-na!
e: mom! grant said vagina!
m: oooh, wow, that's great! (ahem)

e: mom, rachel ray goes poop.
m: um, yeah, I suppose she does.

bed time