Light on the Sugar, Heavy on the Spice

What are little girls made of,

What are little girls made of?

Sugar and spice and all things nice,

That's what little girls are made of.

With 4 girls, you might be under the false impression that we overflow with sweetness around here. This is not the case. I know they look all cuteness and innocence, but there's a lot more spice that the average outsider doesn't see.

I actually think I've created an environment that breeds arguments - and subsequently, talented arguers. It's normal, I know. Kids will disagree. But I'd really like them to learn how to disagree respectfully. Well, we haven't quite reached respectability, but there is an art form at work here that's admirable in its sophistication.

I don't know how many people will WANT an extra dose of the sound of children fighting, but just in case there is such a niche in the population, I've got it covered.

(WARNING: This video may cause headaches)

Arguing 101:

The Final Countdown

One more week till we can officially be done with all things Law School!! (and next... the Bar Exam)

When Your Garbage Tells A Story

It was August 28, 1998 and I was 2 months pregnant with my first baby. I'd had trouble eating much of anything for several weeks. I became obsessed with food as I constantly needed it, but just as constantly hated it.

One date night, Todd and I had gone to the Olive Garden for dinner. I had some manicotti that was a little taste of heaven. It was the first food in a long time that I enjoyed and kept down. Two for two! After that night, I craved manicotti for days. But the Olive Garden was a good 45 minute drive away from where we lived. So I decided to try a TV dinner substitute instead. We headed to Cub Foods and found the closest thing we could to manicotti: Marie Callendar's Stuffed Pasta meal.

I was practically drooling with anticipation the whole ride home. I was so hungry, and here was something that sounded really good to eat. Hastily I took the food out of its box, read the directions and popped it in the microwave. Antsy with anticipation, I watched the timer count down the seconds till all my dreams would come true. (You might think I'm exaggerating, but that's really how I felt at the time). The moment the microwave beeped, I pulled out the dinner tray and SPLAT! dropped it on the floor because it was too hot.

Oh the devastation! The utter despair! The complete and total tragedy! I knelt down next to my deceased dinner and wept. At that point Todd knew I'd lost it and promptly offered to rush back to the store to purchase another one. Perhaps because he was a kindly and obliging gentleman, perhaps because he feared to stick around and find out what the sobbing lump he called his wife would do next.

Somehow I pulled myself together. After fighting the urge to eat it straight off the floor, I appeased my raging hunger with some tater tots Todd had put in the oven earlier.Fifteen minutes later, Todd burst through the door ready to be my knight in shining armor, TV dinner in hand! He undoubtedly found me with a tater tot in my hand and ketchup on my face. Meekly I answered the confused and dejected look on his face. "I don't want that anymore," I said.

And ever since that day, I have NEVER been able to stomach the mere thought of eating stuffed pasta. Even from the Olive Garden.

Just now I found the receipt from that day among some old sheet music. Amazing how of all the random garbage that somehow survives ten plus years and two moves, that that particular piece actually represents a change in my life: The day I went from loving cheesy stuffed pasta to hating it. Would that all my garbage could tell such tales.

A Discourse on Fashion

Not that I really care about fashion that much, but someone’s got to explain to me what teenagers are thinking nowadays (Is that what our parents said about my generation? Probably.) I sub at the local middle school from time to time, and have seen the same outfit with minor variations for the past couple of years: ill-fitting “skinny” jeans paired with an ugly printed hoodie sweatshirt. Oh, and don’t forget the huge skater shoes, and that’s on the girls.

When I was in high school, it was all about the grunge look: baggy pants and an oversized flannel. I took grunge to a new level personally, not ever wearing makeup and often pulling my hair into a pony tail without so much as combing it first. I’m surprised I didn’t start to get dreadlocks. Notwithstanding the gross quality of that look, I can still see the wisdom in it. It was comfortable and had a full-coverage quality about it. Bodysuits were a short-lived trend during that time, short-lived I think because it violated those two basic principles. Also, who wants snaps in their crotch?

Even in the Seventies – notorious for bad fashion – there is some sense to the look. Bellbottoms and jumpsuits elongated the silhouette. These one-piece suits were heinous, but at least they were convenient. There were some nasty plaids during that time, but as plaids are back in style, it looks like we’re falling for that one all over again. (Actually, I really like that jumper, and I'm kind of diggin' that diagonal striped sweater too.)

But nowadays, I don't see any sense in the styles. They’re not comfortable – jeans that tight can’t possibly be. They’re not full-coverage – I’ve seen too many cracks to believe that. And they don’t do much for the silhouette of a female. It's just not the least bit attractive. I mean, who wants to look like Spongebob Squarepants?

On the up-side though, it’s GOT to cut down on teenage pregnancies, right?

You've Got To Be Kidding Me!

I sent Sophie into the soggy outdoors to check the fence and make sure the dog couldn't get out. So she grabbed her raincoat and was about to step outside when I noticed her choice of footwear: slippers! "You can't wear slippers outside in the rain and the mud!" I exclaimed. "Go get some rainboots or something." So a minute or so later she headed outside. Fortunately I noticed her second choice of footwear before it was too late. MY DRESS SHOES! Nice, Sophie.

Are You There Tooth Fairy? It's Me, Brooke

The Tooth Fairy's been truly slacking at our house lately - probably because we're on the west coast and she has to run her route from east to west and sometimes she runs out of time. At any rate, I was clearing some things out of Brooke and Janelle's room the other day and came across the following letter written on an envelope containing a tooth (that was at least a couple of weeks old):

Dear Tooth Fairy,

Please give me 500,000 dollars in a bill, or a few bills for this tooth and not a coin. Please, please, please! Well if you have anymore money that you don't have to spend, give it all to me.

Brooke

P.S. Write a letter back and answer these questions:
What do you do with all the teeth you have? How do you get the money to give to kids? And how do you get the tooth under the pillow, take it and put the money in its place without waking up the child sleeping? Bye!!!!!!!!!! Remember all the money.

How did she answer all of that?:

What a sassy woman that Tooth Fairy is!