Wednesday, March 31, 2010

fa so la ti frickin' da.


Biscuit: Mom, what's Sallysimmyslake?

me: I have no idea. What is that?

Biscuit: We sang it in Music today.

me: Can you sing it for me?

Biscuit. No. I don't know what it is. But Mama? What's a so?

me: A so? Or sewing, like with a needle and thread?

Biscuit: No, like I have a so in here. (points to chest)

me: Oh, a soul. That's what makes you *you*. What makes you special, different from everyone else in the whole world. How you feel, what you like, how helpful and sweet and generous you are.

Biscuit: Oh.

me: Did you think it was something else?

Biscuit: Is it what makes me flip?

me: Well, I guess being active and playful and enjoying gymnastics is part of who you are.

Biscuit: I think my so makes me flip. I want to flip now. Can I flip?

me: Um, sure. Go ahead and flip.

Biscuit: (dive bombs into my clean laundry, does a forward roll) Yay! My so makes me so, so flippy!

me: Dude, you just ruined my laundry.

Biscuit: Yeah, sorry. It was my so. Can I have something to eat now?

*

So that's my evening. t.rex has just awakened from his afternoon nap, and it's time to read a little bit of Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.

Stay flippy, friends.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

good things.

So I have a fetching new mustache.




What, you can't read it from there?

You may need glasses.

Anyway, chickity check it, dawgs.


And I will tell you this much:

Something very exciting happened yesterday,
followed by something even more exciting today.

I can't tell you what, though.

Not yet.

I'll just tell you this:

My daughter's last words at bedtime were,

"I'm just really happy."

So say we all.

p.s.
Just out of curiosity, what's your favorite kind of tea?

I'm now the proud owner of 6 boxes of Celestial Seasonings Candy Cane Lane,
which I found on eBay. Finally.
Whenever I see the cardboard box in the pantry,
I get a little bit giddy.
Off to sip.
And watch Buffy.

p.p.s.
How does this day keep getting better?

p.p.p.s.
Srsly.

Monday, March 29, 2010

this is why we can't have nice tie fighters.


I leave to teach one measly art class, and this is what happens.

Darth Cookius takes on Count Dooky in an epic lightsaber battle.

My living room is seriously trashed. And it wasn't like that when I left. Honest.

No, that's a lie. It was pretty messed up, but that's not what's important now.

What is important?

Good vs. evil. Dueling. In my living room.

And then Dr. Krog slapped that puppy into MS Paint and created the masterpiece you see before you, because my daughter isn't actually a Twilek, and there are no Imperial Star Destroyers in the suburbs. Although there are some pretty big Chevy Tahoes. And they can't park worth a flip. But I digress.

Thanks, Dr. Krog, for setting the kids straight while I worked.

You're an excellent Darth Mister Dr. Mom.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

mex*i*can't

It's not often that I get mortified, but I am recovering from the most shenanigan-filled dinner of recent history. It went like this.

me: This neighborhood Easter Party is great and all, but an unruly helpmeet cannot be sustained by a bowl of Wal*Mart pretzels. Let's go out to my favorite Mexican restaurant with our wonderful friends!

wonderful friends: We will join you for dinner because your children are so well-behaved and pleasant, and we always have such interesting conversations.

Dr. Krog: I'll go, and I'll probably end up paying, but it's going to take a really big margarita.

me: HUZZAH!

Mexican restaurant: We're going to seat you all scrunched up in the corner next to some old people. Even though you're 32 and attached to two children, we're going to make you run out to the car and get your ID and make your baby cry.

me: I'll have a prickly pear margarita, frozen, with salt, please. To help me relax.

Mexican restaurant: Here is your prickly pear margarita, on the rocks, with sugar.

Mobile Balloon Artist Who Wants Tips: Can I make a balloon for you, little girl?

me: We can't, honey, because mommy and daddy don't believe in carrying cash money, because we are super-intelligent cyborgs.

Biscuit: I want a balloon cat, and he's red, and his name is Lucifer.

Mobile Balloon Artist Who Listens to Children Instead of Adults: Voila! A balloon cat!

me: Do you have change for my emergency $10 bill, because this has become a social emergency?

t.rex: Instead of my usual agreeable nature and hand-over-fist snack eating, I'm going to fling my food on the ground, crumble up my tortilla chips, and shriek.

wonderful friends: We are wonderful friends, so we're just going to smile.

Mexican restaurant: This plate is hotter than the sun, so we're just going to put it here next to the baby, along with a random ceramic plate.

t. rex: Ooh! Smoke and lava! I need to touch that.

fajita plate: SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

t.rex: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

me: Argh! Need more margarita!

surrounding tables: Harumph. Glare. Harumph.

me: I wonder what that food tastes like. The food on my plate. That I am not able to eat.

t.rex: I wonder what will happen if I grab that random ceramic plate and throw it on the floor?

plate: CRASH!

t. rex: THAT WAS AWESOME! AGAIN! AGAIN!

Mexican restaurant: We'll clean that up for you. Don't forget to tip your server. BIG.

t.rex: WAAAAAAAAAAAH! MORE PLATE! LESS LAVA BURN!

me: Here, t.rex. Have some of sister's magical Mexican orange juice nectar to shut your pie hole.

t.rex: No! I will fling the straw, and orange nectar will splatter the table behind us like the lifeblood of mommy's patience!

Guy in Starched White Button-Down Tuxedo Shirt at Next Table: Boy, I love my favorite white shirt. I hope nothing bad happens to my shirt.

me: I have not been this mortified since I showed my underwear to half of the Duke TIP program and all of their parents back in 7th grade.

wonderful friends: Um, so. How about that local sports team?

me: He's not usually like this, I swear. And you know it, because we spend about 20 hours with you a week, but I'm still mortified. And I suspect you won't dine in public with us until all of my children are 10 or wearing straitjackets.

Dr. Krog: Well, that was a charming dinner!

me: That must have been an awfully big margarita.

Dr. Krog, Yeah, it was! I had a lovely time!

me: Good. Keep drinking.

Friday, March 26, 2010

who are you again?


I'm the girl who makes bizarre kissy faces every time a camera appears, so my mom sneaks up behind me and yells, "Hey, it's a narwhal!" to get my attention.




I'm the boy who does not approve of this touch-a-truck event. How can I touch a truck if I'm confined in this pathetic excuse for a stroller? How can I crawl under the Hummer limo, harass the K-9 police dog, lick the seats of the cement truck, and run away into the crowd, laughing?

You people simply do not respect my art.



I'm the magical fairy princess bellydancer cheerleader in the rhino shoes.

They are not fairy slippers. They don't have glitter.

Tinkerbell does not wear these shoes.

They're rhino shoes. Because they have a rhino horn. I like to wear them when I'm cheerleading or playing the game they taught me in school where I stand in a field and think about Jesus. I don't know what that game is called, but I think it has something to do with cavities.

*

In other news, the New Vegan Cruelty was especially hard today. There was a speckle of paper on Dr. Krog's sock, and it looked just like the sprinkles on my favorite sort of cupcake at Kroger, and I almost ate his sock. Just in case it tasted like sprinkles.

Yes, I know it's possible to go to a vegan bakery or make vegan baked goods. But the point is that being selectively vegan makes it ridiculously hard to obtain those unnecessary calories.

So for now, I'm just going to pine for sprinkles.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

i he(art) g-force

One of my very favorite people in the world asked me to teach an art class for local at-risk teens.

I'm a bit of an idiot, so I said no.



It just sounded like such a pain-- find someone to watch my kids, drive 45 minutes on highways, come up with projects, get involved with a group I'm not trained to counsel.

But you know what? She signed me up anyway. I had no choice. I had to show up.



That's why I love Nelah so much. She knows me better than I do.

And I am so, so thankful that she got me involved. Teaching these girls is amazing, inspiring, and healing. Despite hardships, they are bright and hopeful and friendly, and they are all talented artists. We've had three classes together in which we've done origami, life drawing, acrylic painting on canvas, and large, primitive art combined with their own words, which you're seeing here

. Next week, we're doing clay.



If you live near Marietta, GA, the gallery opening to showcase their extraordinary work will be held Monday, April 12 from 7 to 9pm at The Art Place - Mt. View on Sandy Plains Road. Their artwork and journals will be on display, and I can't wait to celebrate their accomplishments.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

brought to you by the letter P

Huh.

t.rex has another diaper rash.

9 pounds of fruit can do that.

Naked baby time.

What's that noise?

He just peed on Raggedy Ann.

Oops.

Dab dab dab.

Mommy, what's wrong with that Raggedy?

t.rex tinkled on her.

That's okay, mommy. She can take a bath. She doesn't mind.

Wait, what's that sound?

Why is my leg warm?

Oh, right.

He's still naked from the waist down.

And he just peed on my leg.

And the sofa.

And he's laughing.

*

I see a future in evening news.

Forecast for tomorrow: tinkly with a chance of ointment.

Monday, March 22, 2010

kibbles and blitz

Here we go, hard and fast.

(That's what she said!)

Yes, even though Dr. Krog and I are slogging through the painful last season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead of replaying past seasons of The Office. So much filler, Joss! For shame!

But, yeah, not much time.

1. For the best vegan chai latte ever, microwave a mug of Silk Pure Almond, vanilla flavor, for 99 seconds. Drop in a bag of chai tea-- right now, I'm enjoying Celestial Seasonings Vanilla and Honey Chai. Let it steep for a moment. Add some local honey and a few dashes of straight cinnamon. Use your spoon to squeeze the chestnut-colored chai goodness out of the tea bag. Stir, microwave for 16 more seconds, stir, and allow your eyeballs to roll back in your head. So good.

2. 3.5 is the most bipolar age so far. We're talking Dr. Twinkie and Mr. Biscuit here. One moment, she's loving, funny, sweet, kind, generous, creative, tender. The next she's contrary, rude, difficult, sassy, jerky, and randomly spitting in someone's face for no reason.

By the way, let me give you a hint: Never spit in Dr. Krog's face, randomly or otherwise.

3. You don't believe me? Let me give you an example.

Biscuit: Mommy, I'm hungry.

me: Yes, that's why I'm working so hard to make food for you. Here's the cereal you requested, along with matching bowl and spoon.

Biscuit: (takes sullen bite) I don't want it. It doesn't taste good. This is the wrong spoon.

me: You said you wanted cereal, and you told me this morning that was your favorite spoon.

Biscuit: It just doesn't taste good. It tastes like... like... dirty ant marshmallows. And I don't like this spoon. I want some milk. And maybe some popcorn. And pizza.

me: Well, eat that cereal, and we'll talk about the next food you'd like to eat. But you asked for it, you got it, you eat it.

Biscuit: I really don't. (pushes cereal across the table)

me: Take one bite, and I'll get you a little pizza.

Biscuit: I REALLY DON'T WANT TO.

me: Okay. I'm going to the other room.

Biscuit: (takes bite) Okay, I took a bite.

me: Thank you. Let me get you a pizza.

Biscuit: I don't like pizza any more. It kinda hurts my mouth with a burn. I want a cookie. And an egg.

me: Mommy's diner is closed. Eat your cereal and we'll talk.

Biscuit: (Disappears upstairs. Comes down five minutes later wearing a bellydance hipscarf, purple slippers, and a pair of Hello Kitty underwear as a one-shoulder tank top. She picks up an orange plastic flute and walks around blowing it very loudly and banging the couches with a flip-flop.)

me: Um, are you hungry, little bellydancer?

Biscuit: Naw. And I'm a cheerleader. But I'm really scared of spiders.

4. Can I just say that the local ER is NOTHING like Scrubs or House? Seriously. No funny janitor, no tough-love doctor, no Turkleton, no boobface Cuddy, no cameo by a still youthful and cute Brendan Fraser, and absolutely no solving of the underlying problem. I'm not pleased.

5. A big shout-out to my homie (is that how you spell it? homey? holmes? whutevah.) Heidi, who's in labor. I can't wait to see who's been in there all these months!

6. Not finding out the gender from the ultrasound? I could never do that. Seriously. We had to know, and then we had to know the names, and we kept the name list up on the fridge and scratched things off and added them in and tried to come up with horrible nicknames to knock each others' choices off the Top Three.

Let's just say there's a good reason we'll never have a child named Fletcher.

7. I owe thingies in the mail to jarvenpa and bibliophiliac, and as soon as this cold leaves our house and all the various crises are quieted, I'll get right on that. You know, from the "Guess What These Nasty Black Balls Are" contest a few weeks ago.

They were undipped Chocolate Joe-Joe balls, in case you wondered, but the bit about zombie pandas totally cracked me up.

8. I've got to teach tonight, so I have to go look up pictures of masks and get myself caffeinated enough to lead 15 teens in a painting exercise. Wish me luck. And energy, especially.

9. Yes, I still need to post about our awesome roller skating adventure. I know. And maybe some photos, too, to break up all these pesky words.

10. Have to end on an even number, because I'm a weirdo. Duh.

unruly out.

Friday, March 19, 2010

biscuit 3.5

Biscuit: Mommy, let's play High Spy.

me: Okay.

Biscuit: You go first.

me: I spy something pink.

Biscuit: Is it my beautiful dress?

me: Nope.

Biscuit: Is it my beautiful headband?

me: Nope.

Biscuit: Is it my beautiful ring?

me: Nope.

Biscuit: I give up.

me: You can't.

Biscuit: I don't really.

me: Okay. It was your pig book.

Biscuit: Okay, I spy something pink.

me: Is it your beautiful headband?

Biscuit: Go fish!

me: Genre mixing alert! But is it your beautiful dress?

Biscuit: Yeah, it was! Your turn.

me: I spy something annoying.

Biscuit: Is it t.rex?

me: No. He's not annoying. He's just sleeping.

Biscuit: Daddy says he's annoying sometimes.

me: Yes, but not at the moment.

Biscuit: Okay, I give up.

me: It's that school bus that's holding us up while we're on our way to the pediatrician.

Biscuit: Yeah, that's a really bad school bus, to do that. If I saw that school bus, I would use my jiu-jitsu on it.

me: First of all, you can't choke a school bus. Second of all, remember how we talked about coming to mommy and daddy with your conflicts so that we can help you?

Biscuit: Yeah.

me: So if a school bus ever bothers you, come tell mommy or daddy.

Biscuit: Yeah, okay, I will. You know what would be a good name for a doggy?

me: No, what?

Biscuit: Snugglepup.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

continue the mouth-shutting

(Things you shouldn't say to me, especially after 6 total hours of sleep in the last 3 days)

4. Oh, he's got a cough!
Really? I didn't notice that when I was up with him for 7 hours last night.

5. Oh, he's got a diaper rash!
Really? I didn't notice that when I changed his diaper 9 times a day. And I'm not putting 4 different kinds of diaper rash ointment on it and emailing his pediatrician and letting him run around the house naked and pee on things to get some air on his baboonesque fundament.

Thank God you told me.

6. You daughter said that she was hungry at school today.
I'm sorry that the shoebox of oatmeal, the granola bar, and the two cups of milk she had for breakfast didn't fill her up for three hours. Or maybe it's the fact that the other parents keep sending in cupcakes, cookies, and donuts that makes her ask you for a snack every 10 minutes.

7. Does she have a coat? Because it's cold today.
Yes, actually, it's what's making that tote bag in your hand so bulgey. I understand that you're a thousand years old and think that children should wear ski suits for any weather under a balmy 65 degrees, but I think she'll make it the 10 feet to the door without getting frostbite, I promise.

8. Sugar won't kill her, you know.
Apparently you've never heard of diabetes. More short term, though, she's sensitive to sugar and artificial coloring, so that lollipop you want to give her is going to punish my entire family for three hours and she jumps up and down like a Jack Russell on crack, shrieking, unable to control herself. Plus, she gets excited about a Saltine cracker, so the Blow Pop is a bit much.

9. When are you having another?
NEVER.

Sorry to be a little negative in the last two posts, friends, but I'm running on about 25% of the sleep I need to be functional. Both kids have horrible coughs with no other symptoms, and t.rex has a yeast rash and is teething. I'm lucky I can type in sentences, actually.

Coming up when I can think again: Roller Rink Round-up; subtitle: Everything I Need to Know I Learned at Sparkles. Because yes, Virginia, adults can and do roller skate.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

shut yo' mouth.

Things That No One Should Ever Say to My Child Unless They Want a Recycled Strawberry Diaper to the Face

1. Your mommy needs to buy you some socks!
Seriously, Cap'n Judgment. He's in his carseat in the back of my car while you whisk my older kid out of the car and into preschool. There is a pile of socks next to him, and he's chewing on a shoe. Let's put the blame where it's due-- children who like to remove footwear, and shoe companies that don't provide staplers.

2. If your mommy doesn't get you out of that carrier, you'll never learn to walk!
Lady, if I put this kid down, he'd be trying to lick the wall socket, then he'd run across the room and stage dive off that ladder. The carrier may be the only reason he lives to see 2.

3. Your peanut butter sandwich will be out in just a minute, honey.
C'mon, guys. You can make a grilled vegetable panini and soup faster than you can slap peanut butter on Wonderbread? Kids' food should come first. Period.

There's more, but it's 8:13, which means I have 2 minutes left. To be continued, because bossy old women never rest. There's always some small child through whom a frazzled mother can be lectured.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

thursday haiku

three minutes to blog
one kid sick, one wild, insane
today will be long.

two minutes are left
get off the table now, you
no, don't pull that cord.

is it seven yet?
bedtime. goodnight. time to write.
then fall into bed.

oh no. time is up.
so much more to do and say.
crap crap crap crap crap.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

getting critical

me: Biscuit, I just love it when you sing.

Biscuit: Yeah.

me: I love your sweet voice.

Biscuit: Well, I really don't like it when you sing.

me: Why not?

Biscuit: Because your voice doesn't sound good. It hurts my ears.

me: When I sing, your ears hurt?

Biscuit: Yeah, pretty much.

me: Biscuit, that hurts my feelings very, very much. When we care about our friends and family, we try not to say hurtful things to them, because we love them, and we don't want them to feel bad. If you don't like something, it's better just to keep it to yourself than to hurt someone you love.

Biscuit: But it's true.

me: Dude, you hurt me.

Biscuit: Sorry. It's still true.

THE ARTIST HAS BIRTHED A CRITIC. CONSIDER ME PUNISHED.

* She's right, though. I sound like a frog eating a parakeet when I sing. It hurts my ears, too.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

the daily plan it

Things I've Been Doing While Not on The Intarwebz:
(And before anybody gets up in my bidness, 'intarwebz' is a humorous contemporary spelling devised by evil cats. I don't need further schooling on the history and uses of the internet. In case you wondered. But thanks for thinking of me.)

1. Playing outside.

2. Getting bubble solution in my ragged cuticles and hopping around, screeching.

3. Writing 20 pages on my work in progress.

4. Writing 20 pages on a NEW work in progress that I DREAMED. It involves VAMPIRES. But not in a cliche, sparkly way.

5. Pretending that I'm the next Stephenie Meyer and spending $1000 on bookshelves in my head.

6. Listening to a very small person say MAMA 97,652 times a day.

7. Trying not to go mad as a very small person says MAMA all day long.

8. MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA ALL WORK AND NO CUPCAKE MAKES MAMA A DULL REDRUM.

9. Trying to finish this blog post in 3 minutes.

10. Crap. I'm not gonna make it. I'm going to have to stop mid sentence.

11. Trying to

Sunday, March 7, 2010

day 3: dances with penguins

Day 3 of the All-New Internet Diet.

I get to use the internet from 7:30 to 8:15 this morning. Sounds easy, right?

But then this happens:
9:45 - I need new tires. Time to hop online and do research and get prices. NOPE.

10:30 - I'm using this huge, yellow book to find tire stores. Out of four tires stores, three of the guys who help me are named Brian, and they all assure me I need a different sort of tire for my car. That's okay. I'll just hope online and... NOPE.

11:00 - I'm meeting a friend for lunch and playgrounding. She's not answering her phone. I don't know whether to pack a picnic or go to a restaurant. I'll just see if she's on Facebook... NOPE.

11:30 - My mom wants to know if I saw the email from my aunt about some artwork she's offering to give me. Do I want it? They need to know now. NOPE.

11:35 - My favorite consignment sale is going on this weekend, but they've changed the hours. I don't know if they're open Saturday. And I can't find out, because NOPE.

4:40 - Returning from hours at the playground, I realize that the car bills are due today. I need to get online to pay them. But I'm not supposed to get online. But it's pretty serious stuff, being late on a bill. I call Dr. Krog, and he assures me this is quite reasonable, and also to check my Gmail inbox.

BUT I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT.

Do it anyway.

I pay the bills, feeling like a junkie standing near someone else to smell the crack on their clothes, if that's possible. I don't look at the 15 emails in my Yahoo. I check Gmail, where an agent has requested a partial on SCRITCH. But I'm not going to send it right now, because I'm not supposed to be on the internet.

You get the idea. I'm even dreaming that I'm on the internet when I'm not supposed to be. It's pretty funny, actually, waking up from a nightmare, thinking, "Oh, I'm such an addict. Why didn't I say no to Twitter?"

But the result of the experiment is that I don't feel guilty at night. I spend more time with my kids actually focused on them. And they behave better. And sleep better. And I say 'no' less. And I am actually cleaning the house and reading and writing instead of getting caught in endless loops.

In other words, the Polar Expedition is going well, and the penguins have accepted me as one of their own.

Friday, March 5, 2010

my imaginary polar expedition

Well, friends, you've heard me say it. I've admitted it before. But the problem has again reared its ugly head.

I get lost in the internet as a coping mechanism, and it's not healthy. It's not happy. I get nothing done. The house gets dismal. The kids get frachetty. And I'm like a rat in a cage pushing a button for a hit of sugar. Again. And again. And again.

And it gets me nowhere. Staring at the Gmail Inbox waiting for good news from an submission seems hopeful but is actually pretty depressing. Obsessively watching Twitter and Facebook chatter is the worst kind of narcissistic voyeurism. Looping from blog to blog, checking for updates, is as useless as running on a hamster wheel.

All of these actions are harmless in themselves, and I believe that much good can come from social media. I've learned so much about publishing by following agents and authors on Twitter, and I've reconnected with so many old friends on Facebook. And blogging, of course, provides a creative outlet much needed as a mom of two.

But there comes a point when it's too much, when it's less of a coping mechanism and more of an addiction, and I need to put the laptop down and back away. I need to get back to mindful living, thinking carefully about how I spend my moments in the sun and my calories in the kitchen instead of just buzzing out on the internet.

I'm not abandoning the blog, so never fear.

But I'll probably be posting every other day, in snippets. I'm only allowing myself 45 minutes of internet a day, and that includes work email, too. I may even pre-write blog posts on my non-internet laptop for future posting, because the blog is an important part of my life.

So, in conclusion: Goodbye, internet.

If anyone needs me, you can email me at delilahpaints [at] yahoo [dot] com, which I'll be checking once a day.

If you're a friend, please call us. Let's go play in the sun and talk, face to face while our kids run around screeching with joy.

That beats the hell out of Twitter now, doesn't it?

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

snow day movie round-up

Our day in movies.


We haven't actually seen The Hangover, but I'm guessing t.rex's gut will soon overshadow Seth Rogan's. If only t.rex grows up to talk just like a Muppet, I'll be happy. The bajillion dollars would be nice, too.


We saw Avatar in 3D in the theater.

Well, we saw most of it. Thank goodness for Google, or we'd have no idea what happened in the last 15 minutes.

Oh, wait. We own Pocahontas, and we've seen Dances with Wolves, so I guess we'd be okay. That's right-- I thought the story was derivative. You wanna fight about it? But I loved the world and would totally buy a time share there. Especially near those helicopter lizards.



We bought a VHS of Beauty and the Beast at a consignment sale, and the Biscuit has spent her weekend in her Belle dress, dancing with her Beast. We have DVDs under a year old that are already scratched and skippy, but that VHS from 1992 is still soldiering along. Talk about value!

"Beast is a kinda lion-bear-guy," she said.
"Is that anything like a man-bear-pig?" I asked.
"A what?"
"A man-bear-pig. It's very real. I'm totally cereal."
"Mommy, you are very weird."

Please tell me you guys remember that episode of South Park. Please.


Okay, so I may have doctored that one a little bit. But you get the point.

We didn't actually get to see any movies, although I am aching to see The Wolfman and hopping up and down on one leg to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D.

Before kids, we saw almost every movie that comes out. With kids, we're lucky if we get one a month. Movies were our main hobby, and Netflix just can't compare.

If you don't have kids and you're thinking about having some, for the love of all that's holy, go have a really nice restaurant meal and see a movie every flippin' weekend.

Do it for me. Do it for you. Do it because you have no idea how the little monsters take over your life. Do it because most of today's movies are so, so much better on the big screen.

Just watch out for the ones with lots of explosions when you're hugely pregnant, because it's really weird when your unborn child does jumping jacks on your bladder.

Monday, March 1, 2010

pick it up pick it up pick it up

Top 10 Reasons Why the Biscuit Can't Clean Her Room:
















10. Mommy, who is that guy? Why does he have stripes on his face? Why is he Darth Maul? Why is he a bad guy? Who made him a bad guy? What is a Sith? Why is Emperor Palpatine his master? What is his hair like? Oh, he had old man hair? I don't like old men.

Seriously, have you ever spoken to a three-year-old?

Oy. I'll do it myself.