Thirsty?

I am not sure what to think (beyond being completely grossed out).

Today I got a call from Hubba's school. The principal wanted me to know that Hubba and two other boys were getting drinks from a urinal in the boy's bathroom after recess. He explained to them how dangerous that could be and then had his secretary call the parents of all three boys to tell us what had happened.

When the secretary had finished telling me about the situation she asked if I would like to talk to Hubba for a minute. I wasn't sure what I would say, as I was feeling rather speechless at the moment, (and yes, despite the disgusting factor, I was trying not to laugh - it's just how I deal with things) but I did have a quick chat with him.

He told me that he did it because he saw one of his friends at church do it.

??

Honestly, I don't know what to say. What kid even thinks about getting a drink from a urinal? And how in the world does he convince others to join him in such a thing?

What makes matters even worse is that this is already the second time he's been to the principal's office this year. The first time was for an altercation with another kid who wouldn't move when the class line was walking into the school. Hubba was just behind him and didn't want to break the rule of 'no cutting in line' so instead he decided to kick the kid to get him to move.

What in the world do I do wrong? Is he just being a 6-year-old boy? Am I wrong to feel like a failure as a parent? This is not the Hubba I know.

I have no answers. All I know is that I just love that precocious little kid to the moon and back times infinity and I don't want him to be a troublemaker or have a reputation as one.

The urinal. For reals.

There are no words.

Lucky Day

image from rice.edu

The spam folder for my Gmail account seems to accumulate quite a few letters from foreigners who really want to share millions of dollars with me. I generally delete these correspondences, but today's email was different. Why? It came from the FBI!

Rather than try to summarize I'll let you see for yourself how easily I'm going to become a multi-millionaire.

I present to you the very official sounding email I received this morning... along with a bit of commentary from me.


<<
OFFICIAL LETTER FROM FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION FBI
ROBERT MUELLER III EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR FBI FEDERAL BUREAU OF
INVESTIGATION FBI.WASHINGTON DC.
(I'm not sure they included enough references to FBI in this opening.)

Email: federalbureauinvestigationsXXXX@hotmail.com (right...because all FBI agents use hotmail accounts.)
FBI SEEKING TO WIRETAP INTERNET

ATTENTION: BENEFICIARY (very personalized!)

FROM: ROBERT MUELLER III EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR FBI FEDERAL

BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION WASHINGTON DC. FBI SEEKING TO WIRETAP
INTERNET (pretty sure they already mentioned this)

The federal bureau of investigation (FBI). (I SO appreciate the clarification.)

Through our intelligence-monitoring network has discovered that the transaction that the bank contacted you previously was legal. Recently the fund has been legally approved to be paid
via Central Bank of Ghana. (Huh? Was that in English?)

So, we, the federal bureau of investigation (FBI) Washington Dc, in conjunction with the United Nations (UN) financial department have investigated through our monitoring network noting that your transaction with the Central Bank of Nigeria legal. You have the legitimate right to
complete your transaction to claim your fund US$15.5,000,000.00 (Fifteen million five Hundred Thousand united states dollars) (again, the clarifications provided here are so helpful - especially amongst the abundant grammatical errors.)

Because of so much scam going on in Ghana. (Riiiiight. No scams going on here in my spam folder, though.)

We the federal bureau of investigation decided to contact the FedEx Courier Service Company in Ghana for them to give us their procedures on how to sent this money to you without any further complain or delay. (How thoughtful!) We just got an information from the Central Bank of Ghana and they have loaded your US$15.5,000,000.00 in ATM CARD and submit to the FedEx courier service company for immediate delivery to your doorstep. (Well. I just got an information from my common sense and it says 'are you kidding me?')

You are required to choose one option, which you will be able to pay and also convenient for you, for quick delivery of your parcel containing your ATM CARD and other two original back up documents. (Again, I am loving the wording here. Someone at the FBI needs to take an English refresher course.)

Service Type | Delivery Duration | Charges/Fees

------------------------------ ------------------------------ ---------------
Premium Express (24hrs Delivery)
Mailing $200.00 00.00
Insurance $150.00 00.00
Vat $100.00 00.00
TOTAL $450.00
$450(Four Hundred and fifty US Dollars Only).

.............................. ..............................
Special Express (2 Days)
Mailing $180.00 00.00
Insurance $50.00 00.00
Vat $150.00 00.00
TOTAL $380.00 00.00
$380(Three Hundred and Eighty US Dollars Only).

.............................. ...............................
Economy Express (3Days)
Mailing $100.00 00.00
Insurance$?150.00 00.00
Vat (5%) $50.00 00.00
TOTAL $300.00 00.00
$300(Three Hundred US Dollars Only).
.............................. ..............................

(I love that they give me so many reasonably priced options to have my millions delivered to me. Thank you, federal bureau investigations (FBI) for the convenient for me!)

You are hereby required to advice us, on your parcel delivery option by filling in the required form stated above. Please note that the deadline for claiming your fund is exactly one week after the receipt of this email. After this period, your fund will be return back to the ordering costumer. That is the instruction given to us. So take note. (Note taken, thank you.)

We request that you reconfirm your mailing address to ensure conformity with our record for immediate dispatch of your parcel to you. Only valid residential/ Office address and postal address are certified OK. (Riiiiiiiiight.)

DELIVERY DESTINATION INFORMATION:
Delivery Terms: .............. .......International Delivery
Condition Of Delivery..............Priority Delivery
Consignment Note No: ........... MI 49866-2110
Color of Parcel: ..................... Brown. (definitely useful information)
Total Weight: ..........................36.2 kg
Total Net Weight: ...................1.7 kg

We are here to protect you from any problem till you receive your package. (And then what?)

Looking forward to hear from you as soon as you receive this message.

Best Regards,

THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY.

MANAGEMENT. (Huh? What happened to ROBERT MUELLER III EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR FBI FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION FBI.WASHINGTON DC. ?)

>>

SO?? What do you think? Should I go for it?

Okay. I'll tell you what. If you leave me a comment I'll send you $500,000,000 (Half A Million U.S. Dollars). I'm no hoarder. Just choose one of the delivery options above.

THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY.

No Picnic For You

I have come to the decision that I will not be attending my 20 year class reunion this summer. There were many factors involved, including the distance and cost, but the deciding factor for me was in reading the Facebook page that was created for the planning of the reunion.

It was decided that a family picnic before the reunion would be a good way to socialize and meet each others' families. The location was debatable, but one great suggestion was to actually have it on the grounds of our high school. I loved this idea. I was excited to be able to walk my kids around campus and share some of my great - and even some not-so-great - high school memories with them. However, when it was asked if we could use the school's fields, the inquiry was met with this reply:

The above letter was posted on the Facebook page and everyone who read and commented on it found it to be funny. They were all quite proud of the reputation which the class of 1990 had apparently created for itself back in the day. They also mentioned that they were definitely planning on having alcohol at the picnic, so they were happy to find another location.

Seriously? With everyone's kids there and an open bar at the formal reunion later that night, is alcohol at a FAMILY picnic really necessary? Apparently I am in the minority with this opinion.

I was never really a big part of the whole high school hype, anyhow. Unless my classmates were in choir or drama or (ahem) lower level classes (I'm not proud of my lack of enthusiasm for learning at the time, but it was what it was) then I probably didn't even really know them, anyhow.

I think I'll be planning my own kind of reunion at some point because there are some people that I would really enjoy catching up with. I'll plan a day when my family is going to be in California anyway and call up a few friends that I'd enjoy seeing again. People who know how to have fun and be crazy without a drink in hand. Maybe we'll meet up for lunch or dinner and just catch up on old times.

Now, THAT will be a reunion I can look forward to.

In My Dreams

photo from australiaimages.net

This morning my dreams were interrupted by a phone call so I remember very distinctly what I was dreaming about.

I was on a beach in Australia, nestled in a rocky cove, with a huge group of people. The sand was pocked with tiny holes and everyone was sitting on towels or jackets so that the tiny crabs which lived in those holes would not crawl out and pinch our toes. People, in turn, were standing and telling stories which spanned everything imaginable and each story fascinated me. It was a way that people had of sharing a part of themselves with any friends or strangers who chose to gather there at the beach, a passing along of personal experience and observations.

Whenever a person had completed their story, the custom was for those who had listened to offer kind words or ask questions to encourage a deeper delving into the narrative. One time, however, someone made a rude remark in regard to a story which had been shared and everyone sat there in awkward silence... until the tiny crabs made their way out of their sand-holes and pinched that naysayer's toes until he finally had to stop talking.

At the moment that the phone rang I was musing in my dream how the whole scene was a lot like blogging except that we could really use those crabs sometimes. However, the thing that amused me the most was that, as I was dreaming, I was formulating a post in my head and couldn't wait to get home from the beach to write about it.


I am writing blog posts in my dreams.


Should I seek intervention?

Shopping List

I noticed this morning that a few things had been added to my shopping list on the fridge. In orange highlighter, no less.

The items were added by ElemenoB and revealed a couple of things about her.

1. I need to teach her how to spell toilet properly.

2. She's a dreamer.


Nice try, ElemenoB.

Holiday Cheer

As a general rule, last minute Christmas shopping = misery.

Except for one small moment on Saturday.

We have a tradition of letting the kids buy gifts for each others' stockings so Allen and I each took a portion of the kids shopping. I had Coolister, Thumbelina, Princess, Hubba and Little O with me as we looked for fun items to stuff stockings with. At each store Coolister would hoist Little O up on his shoulders and my little trail of duckilings would follow me in.

When we came to a bookstore a gentleman and his wife held the doors open for us - me at the front and Coolister with Little O at the back of our entourage. As Coolister thanked him for holding the door the man responded, "My pleasure. You two have a good-looking family!"

Coolister looked to me, rolled his eyes, and thanked the guy... even though I know that he was probably disgusted that someone would think he was married to his mom.

It's the little things like this that make my holidays awesome.

It's RAD

Remember the word RAD from back in the 80's? I loved that word. Everything was rad. Rad, as in: It looks so rad when you peg your pants! Or, The A-Team is such a rad show! Well, I'm bringing it back today. Except instead it's an acronym for Random And Disjointed because that's what this post is going to be. Here are a few things I've been pondering lately...

I can't believe I ever used to cook quesedillas in the microwave. They just don't compare to the pan-fried version.

I need to make the time to read more often.

I need to get outside more, although that would likely necessitate my putting on something besides pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt.

Why in the WORLD would the Anniversary Inn make a Twilight-themed room (based off of the vampire books)? Can you imagine the conversations that would take place?
Husband: "Happy anniversary, honey. Isn't it nice having some time alone?"
Wife: "If you can't sparkle in the sun, don't talk to me. I'm having an Edward moment."

I am terrible at making decisions. Why? Is it because I don't know what I want or because I'm afraid of what someone else will think of my decision? I can't decide.

Gravity is awesome.

So is peanut butter.

I'll admit I'm not really at the top of my game when it comes to knowing the who's-who of 80's hair bands. But when did Britney Spears join Poison?

The end.

A Woman's Work Is Never Done

Three out of three UDOT males agree...   Manual labor is women's work.
Today I am thankful that my brother likes to take awesome pictures with his iPhone. Thanks, Chip!

Signs

I spotted this sign in W-Mart this week:


...and I couldn't help but think, really? Is that sign seriously necessary?

I mean, I'll be the first to admit that we live in a conservative state. And I know that I live in a city where the local university is constantly recognized for their squeaky clean image.

But, really?

I tried to imagine what would necessitate posting such a sign, and here is the story that grew in my head...

Two roommates from the local squeaky-clean university have been asked to bring something to drink to a dorm party. The theme for the party is: Autumn. The roommates run into W-Mart and peruse the drink aisle for something autumnish, to no avail. And then, behold! At the end of the carbonated beverages aisle there is an end-cap filled with pretty yellow drinks called: C0r0na Extra.

One roomie says to the other: "Oh, my heck! These drinks are so perfect! The yellow color of them totally makes me think of autumn stuff! And bottles are so much cooler than cans! What do you think?" Then roomie number two says: "Heck-to-the-yes! We are so totally buying these pretty yellow drinks with the name C0r0na Extra! It sounds way exotic and plus it says Extra and that is my favorite kind of gum!"

So the roommates show up at the dorm party and arrange their pretty autumn-yellow colored drinks in a huge tub full of ice and everyone says, "NO WAY! How did you find drinks that are totally the color of yellow autumn leaves?! On a scale of 1 to 10 these drinks rank like a 34 for our autumn theme!"

And then the Dorm Mom walks in and says, "OH MY GOSH WHO BROUGHT ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES TO THE DORM PARTY?!" And the room is suddenly silent.

When Dorm Mom finds out where the drinks were purchased she calls W-Mart to give them the what-for and she is convincing enough that they post a sign.

But you know what? I would LOVE to hear what you think happened.

What's your take on the sign?

Perspective Of One

Every time I see this marquee in front of my kids' elementary school I can't help but snicker.

I mean, really, what does it mean?!

Are they planning on the school toilets overflowing that day?

Or is it an acronym...

Parents Opposing Orneriness?

Pursue Other Opportunities?

Point Of Order?

I would absolutely love to get your opinions on this. Please, the side of me that has giggle-fits over 12-year-old humor is dying to hear your take.

This is WAR!

Apparently, the "tooth fairy" reads my blog. Why do I write"tooth fairy" that way? Because the "tooth fairy" I am referring to is an impostor.

Let me explain. I am well acquainted with the tooth fairy who picks up teeth and leaves cash at our house. Very well acquainted, actually. I mean, with 9 kids - that's a lot of teeth!

You can imagine my surprise when I found a nice little package on our doorstep last night. I brought it in and showed it to Cowgirl, who was ecstatic to have a visit from the "tooth fairy" when she hadn't even lost a tooth! We all know this is impossible. I mean, haven't we all seen "Santa Clause 2"?! Plus, the letter on the package was written in a different font than was used last time. And this note was full-sized, not tiny tooth fairy sized like the last one. And I always know when the real tooth fairy is coming. I had no advance notice here. I rest my case.

The impostor's note read:

(click on the picture to enlarge)

And inside were these:
Not Peeps, but sugar-coated marshmallow people decorated with frosting. Because, as we all know, the marshmallows and sugar coating are not enough to produce a true, bouncing-off-the-walls sugar high. We must give the children frosting as well.

I will say this - these Peep impostors are much cuter than actual Peeps. But no matter. The sugar-induced hyperactivity was twice the norm.

I will find you, "tooth fairy". And when I do... it's war.

And You Thought You'd Heard It All

This blog could very well be called "Life As I Knew It" with all of the stories I tell you about my past. I have been thinking about that lately. Should I be more focused on the here-and-now?

Here's my conclusion: Nah. I can write about whatever I want.

I have had a few people tell me I should write a book about my childhood and teenage experiences. Well, you'd have to buy a book, but my blog? It's FREE! (Now, that's priceless.)

My sister-in-law's sister (got that?) has apparently written a book which includes one of my experiences. You could go buy her book when it's available - or read all about it here. For FREE!

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago... (fade to past)

Soon after I graduated from high school, my friends and I went on a weekend trip. We returned on a Sunday afternoon, refreshed and ready to get back to school and jobs and whatnot. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I returned home.

Nothing.

We lived in an upstairs apartment, #6 to be exact, of Bay Village Apartments. I unlocked the door and walked up the stairs, my red backpack slung over my shoulder. As I reached the top of the stairs, I wondered if I had somehow entered a vacant apartment... everything was gone. I mean, everything. There were no pictures on the walls, no couches, no tables, no television sets. (Yes, I said sets. My parents each had their own, and they were watched simultaneously.) I walked around the apartment, wondering what thief could possibly steal every single item from our home, unnoticed.

I was in shock.

I wandered around - no bikes on the balcony. No food in the refrigerator. No discarded popcorn kernels hiding in the corners of the kitchen floor.

Wait a minute. The thief took the time to clean up afterwards? This was getting seriously freaky.

I immediately thought of my personal belongings - my bedroom! I ran toward it and noticed something strange - it was the only door in the whole place that was shut. And there was a note taped to the door.

It read:

Dear Gerby,
We moved to a house in Gardena.
Here is our phone number: 555-1234.
Call us when you get home.

Loves, Mom and Dad

I stood there, frozen. They moved? I slowly twisted the doorknob, afraid of what I would find.
My bedroom was exactly as I had left it. It was eerie, like walking into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Posters still covered the walls. Clothing was still strewn about the floor. My bed remained unmade. I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, to let it all sink in...

They moved. Without me.

I thought to call my friend Julie who lived just down the court.

No phones.

I walked to her apartment, filling her in on the details of what had just happened. Julie's mom, (my 2nd mom, incidentally) suggested: "Why don't you just move in with us?"

So I did.




And that's the truth.

Read Your Labels!

Today I made a startling discovery: there is tuna in tuna.

I know, I know - you are probably relieved to know this, especially for those of you with tuna allergies. I mean, you could have opened up a can of tuna and made yourself a sandwich or something and never have known that there was tuna inside.

I would just like to give a shout-out to the people who are conscientious enough to add information like this to the label of a can of tuna:


Thank you, Tuna-Warning Creators. Thank you.

Tell Me Why

An open letter to the children's clothing industry:

I've been shopping for clothes for my kids lately and I have a few questions.

Why are girls clothes so tight and short? I do not want to teach my girls that they should dress to flaunt their bodies. Could you make something a little less form-fitting for those of us who want our girls to be girls and not miniature women? (Actually, could you talk to someone about making women's clothes a little looser-fitting, too? Thanks.) And another thing...

Why is it nearly impossible to purchase a dress for a teenage girl with some length and sleeves? Don't make me get out my sewing machine. Seriously.

And why is it so difficult to find a nice pair of sturdy leather sandals in a size 2.5 without HEELS? My daughter likes to run and play in the summer. She's not a runway model. And those plastic "croc" type shoes are NOT sandals. Please stop calling them that.

Another thing - could someone open a store called "In Season"? Because when I want to get some capris or a one-piece swimsuit in the middle of the summer and they're all clearanced out to make room for school clothes, that's a little frustrating. I mean, I'm shopping for things we're going to wear NOW, not two months from now.

Thanks for listening. I'll look for these improvements next year.

Until then,
Gerb

Hard-Headed, Thick-Skulled - Call It What You Want

I took my kids to the park today. My plan was to let them play while I watched from the sidelines with Baby O, but he fell asleep in his carseat and didn't need any attention - and why should they have all the fun? So I started to run around and goof off a little and then I turned and... BAM!

Stars.

Where did that bar come from?

Then, "Are you OK, mom?" (giggle, giggle)
Me: "No... Yes. I'm fine." (forced laughter)
Them: (giggle, giggle) "Don't laugh at mom, she got hurt." (giggle, giggle)
Me: "I'm going to go check on the baby and sit for a minute."
Them: "Watch your head on the way..." (loud laugh)

And of course, in a few seconds I was fine. It got me thinking that I have a long history of hitting my head but suffering no serious bumps or bruises or headaches (etc.) afterwards. So, if you care to know, here's a brief history of the bumps I remember in chronological order (and summarized form).

• Age 5 (or so): Hit side of forehead on the corner of a table at parent's friend's house. No stitches needed.

• Age 8: Hit back of head on the corner of a wall at church when I tried to kick a ball but somehow fell backwards. Stitches needed.

• Age 9: First time skiing, forehead vs. tree. (Tree won.) Stitches needed, loathing for snow skiing continues today.

• Age 11: Hit in forehead by a baseball during P.E. Felt fine, but went to the nurse to avoid the remainder of P.E.

• Age 13: Hit head on side of pool in Bay Village apartments - caused a nosebleed and severe embarrassment. (They're not kidding when they say not to run by the pool because you can slip.)

• Age 14: Passed out in the bathroom at Young Women's camp while waiting for a shower, (combination of altitude and heat got to me, apparently) hit my head (HARD!) on the sink on my way down. No bump, no medical attention needed - however, my friends covered me with my towel and got the father of a guy I liked to come help. Embarrassed again.

• Age 16: Goofing around in a VW in a parking lot with friends after a youth dance, driver slammed on the brakes. I was in the front passenger seat without my seatbelt on and cracked the windshield with my forehead. I felt fine. He felt terrible, and so did I when I realized that he would have to replace his windshield. It looked really bad but my head was fine.

• Age (sometime after marriage): Running with my niece at a splash park under a rainbow made of metal bars when WHAMMO! it stopped me cold. I guess I thought the bars were higher than they were. We have that one on video somewhere. No damage, just some tenderness for a few days.

• Age (sometime in the last 8 years or so): Started to back the suburban out of the garage and some (very large) particle boards or MDF or something heavy stored against the wall started to fall on the suburban. My initial reaction was to jump out and stop it from hitting the hood of the vehicle. So instead it hit me (in the head and shoulder, knocking me to the ground) and the hood. (note to self: Hard head, but no superhuman strength. Dang.)

• Age 36: Today's playground mishap. Still a bit tender where it hit, but no bumps.

I'm sure there were more incidents in there, but those are the ones that stand out. I remember all of these accidents because the initial pain of the hit was always enough to make me go blank for a second or two, then I was fine. How did this not cause severe problems?

Oh. I get it.

There's A New Toy In Town...

Do you think my little 3-year-old towhead will be more motivated to be potty trained if I offered him these lovable stuffed toys as a prize? I must admit, these are right up my alley as far as being disgustingly humorous, but it doesn't seem right to give them to a child to play with.

I'd love to have a set on my bathroom shelf, though.

Maybe these underwear would make potty training a little more fun for me to endure?

See for yourself what other goodies the "Pee and Poo" Company has to offer!

Maybe You Should Read It Again...

Mike is one of my best friends. I met Mike the same night I met Allen, so we've known each other a good, long time. He is considered a brother to Allen and I, an uncle to the kids. Mike calls us often, which we appreciate since we aren't so great at calling him. When I answer the phone, he usually says something like this:

"Flamerta? What's up? Anything new?"

To which I used to respond, "Nope, nothing new. Same old, same old."

Mike told me at one point that, if I was ever NOT pregnant, I could instead answer, "Well, I'm not pregnant!" And har, har, har, we'd always have a good laugh over that one.

Mike just got married this month, to the beautiful Any (pronounced like Annie). I am looking forward to calling him sometime and asking, "What's new?" and hearing the response, "Any's pregnant!" No pressure, though, Mike & Any.

And, by the way, nothing new around here.