Girly Geek meets Girly Chic

"Mom, what travels farther? If you throw a ball really high in the air, or if you go more slanty?"

"Well..." I began to gush excitedly. I was one of the only kids my age who actually enjoyed high school physics. I started waving my arms around wildly, explaining about vectors and gravity. Tweenie followed along, interested for the moment (remember, she's my genius child).

"...and so, the ball stays in the air only as long as it takes for gravity to bring it back down again, but travels at an equal rate in a forward direction until it hits the ground!" I finished with a flourish.

"But what if you threw it off the cliff?"

"I'm glad you asked!" I ran for a sketchbook, tingling with excitement at this learning opportunity.

She must have figured out where this was going, because--

"Um, can we go to Target now? I need new Sunday shoes and my lip gloss ran out."

"But we're not finished here..." I whined.

"Yah, but I'd rather go shopping now."

Hmm. Just the two of us in the van for 20 minutes? That'll work.

Another Family Holiday Survived

What luck for me that Spring Break falls right after Easter this year! I'm being ironic.

Whereas I might have had a half-day of alone time to clean up the blotches of chocolate ground into the carpet and such while the kiddies were off at (pre)school, instead I find myself running around changing junk food-charged nappies that would otherwise have fallen to Kye's wonderful teachers and trying to amuse a bored Tweenie who can't seem to connect with any friends for a quick playdate today. Rascal is the only one who remains more or less at status quo, which is to say that yesterday's chocolate rush did not affect him like the others since he has a naturally high temperament.

I'm exhausted. Kye won't take a nap but I think I might have to. Just lock the door and let them deal with each other, I'm thinking.

This weekend was filled with one Easter Egg hunt after another, and at our house it could hardly be different. The only exception is that I'm a serious chocolate snob and won't spring for Tootsie Rolls or Dollar Store chocolate bunnies. Also, if I'm going to snag the odd treat, it may as well be Ferrero Rocher or Lindt truffles, y'know?

Another project I undertook was to make my grandmother's Paska recipe. This Ukrainian Easter staple is a wonderful sweet bread that you slather with icing and eat with homemade jam. It was my first try and I must say I did my Oma proud.

It only took 5 hours with rising time and it was a challenge convincing the kids they shouldn't help with the kneading...

...but here's the finished product! I was so proud of myself I cut some up and handed it out to our neighbors. That seems to be another trait of my cultural heritage sneaking through: the fobbing-off of baked goods to friends (in lieu of gifts? Yeah, we do tend toward cheapskate-ness also) whether they want it or not.

At the end of the day, we confiscate the goodies to the least accessible place in the house. Also up on that shelf: the BBQ lighter, Jolly Jumper (don't ask), and a Fruit Snack maker from Christmas. The Jack 'o Lantern bucket is not up there from Halloween; within 2 hours of buying 3 Easter buckets, one was lost. Sadly, this is not atypical.

Recent goings-on at Mama's house (and it's not even lunchtime yet)

Nemo Band-Aids: 100% ketchup-soaking guarantee

Rascal: "Mama, dere's ketchup on my footie."

Mama: "You have a boo-boo, and that's not ketchup. It's... um... oh, right. That's ketchup."

It occurred to me (belatedly) that I had made such comments in the past like It doesn't hurt that badly, right? It's not even bleeding!

Thus, pointing out a bloody scrape will almost certainly lead to unnecessary screeching. In this case, he had been picking at a ragged toenail. I reached over and quickly snatched it off, wanting to prevent the drama and pain of a more gradual removal.

Later, on the phone to Husband: "Mama breaked my footie, and now dere's ketchup on it."

Husband: "Can I speak to Mama real quick?"

Just now I was trying to load a CD-ROM on my laptop when I noticed Kye's half-disintegrated Flintstone vitamin jammed inside. The boys have been rebelling against my switch from Gummy Vites to Flintstones since the last Costco coupon book came out. (Hey, they're the #1 Pediatricians' Choice! And who am I to argue with authority, or at least the stuff that those marketing folks wrote on the box?)

Maybe it would help if they knew who the Flintstones are, but we are cheapskates and only have crappy basic cable. Their TV choices are limited to whatever PBS is running (which is in my opinion probably a good problem to have).

Let's review: Flintstones bad, Gummy Vites gooooooood.

So now it's 10 am and we have an Easter egg hunt to attend. Toodles!

When in Rome, sit on your ass

Tweenie's school held the All American Fun Run last week to raise funds for their school. It's your basic Thon, and brought back memories for me of the events I participated in at that age.

Here's the thing - I remember these events as following a basic pattern:

(1) publicize your participation among family and friends,

(2) raise funds based on performance (i.e. 25¢ per lap around the gym, or $5 per 100 skips),

(3) a 1-2 hour commitment on the day of the Thon, featuring a cheering section filled with the kids who packed it in early,

(4) and crappy freebies based on your level of achievement

But this is how Tweenie's event went down:

(1) sent out a preprinted letter provided by the school asking for sponsors; it was a fill-in-the-blank form (I just love that personal touch, don't you?).

(2) "...and they said all we have to do is send out the letters. Raising the money is not our concern," Tweenie stressed. "So it doesn't matter if no one responds?" I wondered. "Raising the actual money is not our concern," Tweenie repeated slowly, as if I was dimwitted.

(3) a 10-minute walk inside the gymnasium. Apparently there were too many participants this year so running was deemed unsafe. Even though it's technically The All-American Fun Run, the moniker clearly holds little sway over the actual proceedings.

(4) Awards ceremony recognizes those over-achievers who managed to mail out the most letters. Tweenie made it to the second highest tier and is now the proud owner of a wind-up bird. This high-quality Made In Timbuktu toy is advertised to fly "up to 50 yards!", but I think we have air quality problems at our house because it only manages to stay aloft as long as it takes for gravity to yank it earthward. In retrospect, my super awesome idea to throw it out of an upstairs window might not have been the brightest. But I was so enthralled with the idea of !50 yards! that I got carried away. I guess I should have said that Tweenie was the proud owner of a wind-up bird.

Introducing: The All-American Sit-On-Your-Ass-a-Thon (sponsorships welcome)

My Dog Ate My Homework

This Ebola got somewhat out of control. I am pleased to say, that after roughly 3 weeks of slapdown fight (winner TBA), we have cycled through the sickness in our house.

Our final holdout, Kye, had his first Advil-free night last night and so far shows no sign of relapse (knock on wood). What little time I had for work and blogging was spent with a screaming 1-year-old on my arm and my 3-year-old taking advantage where one could be found, hammering on the keyboard and yanking cables.

The path of least resistance here was to leave All Dogs Go To Heaven running in a continuous loop and keep the pantry fully stocked with alcohol I mean Diet Coke. Much whining to Husband and manic calls to Tantie later, I eased out of this illness psychosis and straight into P.M.S.

Yeah, it's been a fun few weeks. Which is why I haven't been blogging, and quite frankly, you should be glad of it.

Now that we are hopefully in the clear, I hope to be bringing you more tales of mischief and mayhem from a lighter note as per the old Mama (at least, once the P.M.S. phases through).

Someone call the CDC

I think I'm dying of Bubonic Plague.

This week has seen it's ups and downs, and my relapse into illness (and seemingly certain death) has been the anti-highlight.

I called Tantie this morning to gripe. As soon as she heard my shivery raspy voice, she demanded I call Husband at once to take me to the doctor.

"You could have pneumonia, or worse!" she worried.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Ebola," I teased. My joints and kidneys ache, my face is throbbing, and I'm shaking violently from fever. This little cold is seriously kicking my ass.

I summoned Husband home from important meetings and such to take me to the Urgent Care clinic. He made sure to remind me just how inconvenient all this was. "Shall I cough on you now?" I threatened. There was no more backtalk after that.

Of course, my diagnosis was merely a bad cold with possible sinusitis. "Plenty of rest and fluids," Doctor recited. I left with a scrip for nasal spray. Satisfied that the love of his life was in fact not dying from tuberculosis, Husband headed back to work.

Darn it. I should have milked it a little more.

Incapacitated... and the results thereof

We had a nasty stomach bug

**Update: ... and sinus thingy...**

run rampant through our family this week, which is why I haven't posted in a while. We're on the rebound now but dealing with the fallout: 18 loads of laundry, 46 doorknobs and light switches to Clorox, and planning a trip to Costco for more Kleenex (on the upside, we were able to collect a lot of BoxTop$ this week).

Husband took off on Friday for a Guys' Weekend Away to watch ACC Basketball's March Madness and drink beer away from wives' watchful eyes. That morning, Rascal started off our run with the flu.

It took 24 hours for the rest of us to catch up, and in that time Kye, Tweenie, and I were sick together while Rascal was well on his way to recovery. A recipe for disaster. Luckily/unluckily, Husband arrived home refreshed and plunged into the maelstrom with vigor. The next day, he was fighting me for the best porcelain in the house.

As I shlumped weakly around the house cleaning up accident after accident, Rascal's return burst of energy was more than I was willing to deal with. I rationalized every lack of response with the thought that I didn't have the strength or even desire to bother with discipline. I should have anticipated that this would yank us back to Square One.

I could go into detail about all the ways Rota and Rhino (the viruses, people) made our lives miserable, but frankly most of those details would involve various bodily fluids, scents, and sound effects better left undescribed. As we pull out of this week-long drama, Rascal is the only one in perfect health (convenient, no?) while Tweenie's just achy enough to squeeze a few days away from school. I have that cough where you know you'd better not start because it'll keep going for at least 5 minutes, leaving you with a red, teary face and suspicions of incontinence.

Have I said too much? I'll just leave it at that, then.