A Tale Of Two Bikes

Our kids are big galoots. Stinky is just about my height, and Mothman isna far behind.

Of course, Tim would say that he's just as big as Sean. And Sean would say that Tim wasn't even close. But that's the way - has been ever since Cain and Able, right?

A few years ago, Sean learned to ride a big boy bike. It took almost 2 months, the second summer of trying, before it took. But once he got it... well, we haven't seen him since, if the weather is nice.

At the time, Tim had his little boy bike. He insisted that Dad take off the training wheels (he was 5, I think), and he rode in the back yard until he didn't fall anymore. Took him less than a week.

Fast forward. Tim's still on his "little boy" bike - and he resembles the bear at the circus (sorry, stealing image, as I can't do pictures at work...). He also crashes a lot because the bike is just too small.

Time for a new bike.

We got it from Amazon - and it came on Saturday, while Dad was working on a mongo paper for his grade three class in boringology. Dad tried to put it together on Sunday. There was a constant stream of neighborhood boys - "Look at my new bike!!" and a constant stream of creative foul language from Dad - there was a problem. The brake was faulty. And that kid needs all the safety equimpent he can get. So we had to send it back.

Heartbreak city.

The kids had yesterday off - so Dad trouped them off to Richard's sporting goods. They were OUT OF BIKES. Heartbreak part 2! But then, lo and behold, Tarjay had one. It's the Magma - Impersonater. What a dumb name for a bike. What, does it melt on command? Anyhow. There'll be pictures when I get home and can upload them.

After an hour of searching for the lost helmet (heartbreak 3! The revenge of entropy!), Mothy was off, not to be seen unless there was a new trick he had mastered (can ride without hands, can wheelie...)

Spring is here!

(*)>

The Eagle Has Lifted Off!

My brother has come and taken my mother back to her home. We will miss the drinking songs - especially the ones where the drunkards try to lure young women into ruin - that she sings with glorious ignorance. We will REALLY miss having drawers and closets mysteriously cleaned and straightened, floors getting cleaned, and loads and loads of laundry which are nasty when we leave the house and clean and folded when we get home. Always funny - she apologizes that it mightn't be folded just right.

If you're family and you're reading this - give her a welcome home call. She'll appreciate it!

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He Loved the Ladies...

So Mom has been telling tales about her in-laws lately. Did you know that my grandparents wouldn't drive? My grandfather had been a trolley driver in Pittsburgh in the early part of the century - wow, 100 years ago or so - and he killed a little boy who jumped in front of his trolley. Or so goes the tale. So, though cars came and most got them, he didn't.

My grandmother eventually learned to drive - though never well - and she would drive all over. She was grandma "go-go" while my other grandma, who got struck by lightning twice, was grandma "rock-rock."

Back to Grandpa. He died when I was young - 7 I think. I don't remember him well, for he was old as the hills when I was a kid. He was born in 1889 and he died in the 70's. I remember him sitting on the couch, and Grandma imploring him to "eat his banana." But he was an interesting guy. He loved to tease my Grandma, who wouldn't say shit if her mouth was full of it, according to my mom. When my grandpa went to the doctor's office for a checkup, late in life, he came back and was telling my parents and Grandma about it. Apparently, when the doctor was complimenting his health, Grandpa asked if he could still be with his wife. The doctor said, if you do, do once for me! Of course, Grandpa said this in front of the whole family. Poor Grandma.

He used to sing a song, "I love the ladies," and, in his youth, he probably did. He didn't get married until he was in his 30's, and he was 13 years older than my grandma. But he loved my grandma, and what's more, he respected her. That much, I do remember. He was a good guy.

And he loved the ladies.

Now, anyone know that song? I think it's the one by Irving Kaufman, but I can't do real audio on this mac, so I can't play it for mom to confirm...

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Boys Will Be Boys

Summer is drawing to a close, once again. The cicadas are louder than bombs here in PA and you can smell the bus fumes and new shoes just around the corner.

We spent this morning hiking around Ridley Creek State Park. The temp and humidity have dropped, so it was quite fun. I'm not a bug fan, but I deal because the boys tend to have a pretty good time.





Then the boys got really hot, though, as our walk was ending. So they went tribal, and I told them that soldiers sometimes wrap their shirts around their heads. So they did.




Unprovoked, Stinky takes a pretend gun (he always has one handy) and starts shooting at planes. "I'm dressed like a terrorist so I should shoot down planes" he says, with a bad accent. Where do they get this stuff? I'm fairly certain John and I haven't planted this one in his brain, though he's always listening and regurgitating things we never expected him to hear...

Fun in the sun is almost done, but we still have a few days left. I'm going to enjoy it as much as possible!

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trials and tribulations

No, I don't currently have any of those. You'd think that would be a good excuse for not updating. But the fact is, I have no excuse.

We have had several computer woes at the dusty aviary. Our memory challenged machine has finally given up the ghost - either that or the two gerbils we hired to run the processor finally kicked. So, my computer time is mostly at school, and I usually don't have time to blog here.

School is rapidly coming to a close, but some would say not rapidly enough. Our grades go in next friday. Our last day of school is june 23. You might be saying, WTF? I know I was. How on earth am I supposed to motivate whatever kids choose to come (and we're already down to about 50%) to do ANYTHING let alone stop them from being destructive?

At our last teacher meeting (and didn't I leave business to avoid meetings? Dammit.), I decided to ask the other science teachers if they wanted to plan our last two weeks together. Share the misery, as it were. Our department chair was out that day, so, being the ENTJ that I am, I just took over. So, now, the last two weeks look like the best weeks of the year. We're doing all sorts of fun stuff - gameshows, olympics, orienteering, making things go boom - and keeping it science. And if no kids show, well, that's just fine! We'll still have each other to talk to!

~~~~~

On the home front, all is well. The moth just turned 6 last week. On his birthday, I played "Birthday" by the Beatles to wake the boys up. I started singing "you say it's your birthday!" and Tim rolls over, out of sleep, and says "FINALLY!" What a cutie :)

He really is, though. Lately, the kids are really into John Williams music, since I bought them a 4 disk set. I have heard the theme song to Jaws about 10000 times; stinky adores it. But the best was when John and I were sitting in the living room and mothy runs through to the bathroom. All is quiet for a minute or two, and suddenly we hear the theme song to Star Wars. John turns to me and says "I guess everything came out ok." all deadpan. He's like that.

Sean has been working off a debt - he lost one of the two way radios we let him use, AGAIN. We let the boys roam pretty wildly in the back "meadow/forest", but we need to be able to contact them. (We used to let Sean roam the neighborhood with the radio until the time he called us about the white van without windows following him. Seriously. Sheesh, I have to stop watching LMN.) Anyhow, Sean has all these pockets in his cargo pants, but carries the radio in his hand. Puts it down to take a leak and forgets it. First time, we forgave. Second time, he's working off the debt to buy another one.

He works off the debt by picking up dog poop, of which we now have copious amounts. He actually enjoys running the vacuum, which is weird. But he's getting there. He is so excited for school to end, it's not funny. He hates school. Sad but true.

Tim, on the other hand, loves school, and his "cheachers". "Tim, it's TEACHER, t-t-teacher." "Oh, it starts with T? OK. T-t-cheacher."

Reminds me of c-c-c-bookie, Ron.

~~~~~

Another may done, another june to begin. Memorial day has passed and once again I stopped by to say hey to many of the ancestors. It's weird, but I actually like doing that. Kind of a - thanks for living and making it so I could too - gesture. Next year I think I'll take stinky with me. He'll groove on the graveyards, I think. But for now, it's a pilgrimage for mom and me. Makes her awfully sad, which I can understand. They're her brothers and sisters, her husband and parents. I think it makes her feel lonely. But I think she likes to do it, anyhow.

Hope you're all, all 3 of you who still look here once in a while, doing well. Maybe I'll stop by again sometime and let you know what the toilet song of the week is. (This week, it's Axel F. You know, from beverly hills cop and recently used in Monsters Vs Aliens. What can I say, my kids are weird, just like me.)

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The Height of Irony?

So, recently our neighborhood went to single stream recycling. Yipee. I had 4 different bins I used for recycling; I kept only 2. One of these was a big blue plastic garbage can.

It was pretty obvious that it held recycling. Cans, bottles, plastic, cardboard. No bags. But others kept putting bags in it, and then when went to put out recycles, I'd have to pull the garbage out (ick), move it to the garbage cans, dump my recycles, then go wash my hands several times. 

I solved the problem. I wrote "recycle" on the can, with the cute little arrows. Now everyone in my household knows it's recycling!

The garbage men, however, didn't understand the message, and they recycled my can. 

Back to square one.

~~~~~

My husband sent me an email before he left work for grocery shopping: "anything you need at the store toady?"

Now, if I were truly the venemous harridan I purport, my answer should have been, "Just a dictionary for you, my typing-challenged friend."

Instead, I answered: "Since when have I been your toady?" To which he verbally replied (after I made a great deal of being quite obsequious and pandering)... do you know where that term comes from?  I didn't.

Apparently, in olden times, when charlatans roamed the earth (instead of cable television), they would hawk their cures and wares with a little help of an assistant. The assistant would eat a toad, which everyone knew was a recipe for death, and then the charlatan would heal him! So, the old word for shyster-side-kick was toad-eater. Eventually, the guy who would do anything to suck up to the guy in charge was called the toad-eater, or toady.

There's your etymology for the day. The whole conversation has made me want to go watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail - the "she's a witch" scene, if you know what I mean.

(*)>

Lazy Saturday?

Lazy Saturday? What the hecks is that?

So, the boys are off to the Pinewood Derby today. John found out last night that the Jurassic Avenger is not eligible for competition since it ran last year. Alas, the Rogers family  goes unrepresented today.

I did start the day early, however. Around 5, I heard a call "Mommee!! Mommee!!" By the time I woke up and heard it was outside, well, I was awake. Then it made no sense, so I listened further.

Damned feral cats. First they give Stinky nightmares (he keeps dreaming that they are "feasting" on him.). Now they decide to get busy in my driveway on a Saturday morning. Well, it sounded like they had a good time anyhow.

Glad someone enjoyed it.

To give myself some luxury, I watched some TV - and the kids came down so we watched Brady Bunch. Do you remember the episode with Buddy Hinton? "Baby talk, baby talk, it's a wonder you can walk!" That episode SPOKE to me, man, since I had such a horrible lisp. 

Nowadays it speaks to me again. Mr. Brady, Mr. I'm All Reason Brady, gets so frustrated with Mr. Hinton that he coaches Peter on how to box. Mrs. Brady, Mrs. Blessed Are The Peacemakers Brady, cheers Peter on and brings the Gatorade. 

If this sitcom were made today, reason would have won the argument. Reason rarely loses in TVLand today. But, if this sitch was in reality, there would have been text messaging, someone getting jumped, and plenty of suspensions handed round. 

I guess we can say that the Brady Bunch was Keepin It Real (or, as some of my students would say, "real rap").

Now I'm off to buy some "large beads" for an Avagadro's Number activity. Real rap.

(*)>

I've got something on my mind...

an old commercial... John's taken to new old libations recently and it reminds me both of old times and of older brothers. Do you remember this commercial? I seem to remember it differently, but I do remember the song. Did they do a whole bevy of these?

Meanwhile, another brother (I have so many) has sent me another blast from the past. I have always hated losing games. Won't play them, mostly. So, they got me these books of games you can't lose. Well, someone has posted them all. I actually took them kind of seriously as a kid... you know, I could finally win!!

(*)>

FIRE!!

Updates updates...

First, on the school front. Well, I did my first real lab yesterday. 5 tests - acid, base, water, electric conductivity, and flame test - on a series of elements from around the periodic table. Period 2 was fine. Period 3 was great. Period 5 was really good.

Period 6 lit my garbage can on fire.

Of course, another teacher happened to be there when it happened. English teachers don't understand the fun of fire. He was pale and scared. I got to use my fire extinguisher! I was revved. And pissed. One of the students asked me if they were my worst class. I said, "yes." Then I mitigated, "I don't have anything against any of you as individuals. But as a group, we're chaos. Chaos and labs don't mix. You're not doing labs. You'll do worksheets when my other classes do labs."

The kid who lit the fire? I'm betting he doesn't make it back to school for a while. Those kids were MAD that they didn't get to play with the lab stuff.

It was never really that dangerous. It was contained in a metal garbage can. Besides, the science wing is far off on the side of the building, and is mostly empty. Damage there is easily contained. Schools are designed that way, usually, because science is dangerous. And fun. Don't think so? Go check out the fun these blokes are having, especially with any of the group 1 elements. Try potassium (K). I can't show these in school because youtube is blocked. Damn porn.

So back to that portion of the school being isolated. Because most of the labs are empty, the kids like to hang out up there. They stole a bunch of keys, among them a science wing master. Every once in a while we find evidence of B&E. Used condoms are among the evidence. Ewww. I mean, seriously. Think back to your science lab. Ewww.

This year, my boss heard some noise and caught 2 boys in one of the empty labs. It was dark. She pulled them out and wrote them up. She knew there were most likely two girls in the room, but it was better this way. Detention/suspension is nothing compared to the idea of getting caught in one of the labs with another boy for most of these guys. Holy crow, they were fired up at the implication that they were... hanging out together. She just smiled as she wrote the slips. They couldn't turn in the girls if they ever wanted to "hit that", but now their reps were questioned. A win-win if you ask me.

I was telling my husband this story, not knowing that stinky was around the corner, listening. I suspected he was around; he is most of the time these days. So I obviously used round about terms. The next day, Sean says to John, "I thought Mom's story was funny." John was like, "what story?" Stinky replies, "the one about the two boys dancing in the room. They were dancing with girls but the teacher made it sound like they were dancing with each other. Now everybody thinks they like to dance with boys." He giggles.

Little pitchers have big ears. I have never understood the source of that saying, but man, my pitcher has the biggest ears ever.

The boys are both fine. Soccer today - but it's rainy and Moth man has been sick all week. So he's not going. We got their pictures back this week. Classics. Stinky's shirt already has gook on it and Moth, well, it's not his best pic, that's all. Typical elementary pics. They're doing well, and EXCITED for halloween. Tim's a skeleton and sean is a zombie. Look for pics next week! Yeah right, ok, maybe next month! Next year?

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FOUND IT!

So, to update an old post, I just found the Harry Potter book. Sean had tucked it behind his Narnia series. I was standing there, cleaning up his CD's and thinking "that book has to be somewhere... maybe in another book?" And, le voila, as les francais might say. We are a happy pair, stinky and I.

Other updates...

Moth man is doing well in school, and is playing with all manner of kids every day when I pick him up. He is a social butterfly. As is his da, these days. Why, you ask? John's "boss" in the cub scouts has gotten seriously ill. He will get better, thank goodness (he's a great guy), but meanwhile the scouts aren't a priority. SOoooo... john is the grand poo-bah. Heh.

My school is still crazy. We had a student die of MRSA last week, which was really, really sad and kind of scary. We had a fire drill yesterday, and I can tell you, they're a lot more fun than real fires! Though I did "accidentally" start some fires in my lab this week - kids are a lot more interested in seeing more "exothermic" reactions now. Heh.

There's a new TV show that I'm interested in seeing - it's called Eleventh Hour. It just looks interesting from the ads. So, I TiVo - Eleventh Hour. And guess what? It's an old BBC series starring my fave, Patrick Stewart. And BBCA is showing that series this week, also. So, I'm TiVoing both! I love TiVo.

and with that, I'm going to post this, before I forget. Again.

Happy Birthday, Richard!

My oldest brother is 20 years older than I am. When I was a wee tyke, he went off to the navy and sailed around, playing trombone, while Vietnam was raging. He really rocks on trombone, apparently. I've not heard him play. Have heard him sing and play guitar, though, and boy, that dude has TALENT.

I have almost no memories of Richard from when I was a kid. The majority of my memories stem from when he married and brought his kids around - they used to camp out at the pond for the entire summer. Sandy and Timmy and Jackie were nominally my nieces and nephews, but were really my siblings.

But he was my brother before he became more like an uncle. I have exactly one memory of Richard from before the camping days. I remember sitting on his lap as he read me a spooky story called "The Ghost of Windy Hill." Isn't that a great memory to have?!

I didn't remember the story line, just the name and the cover. A few weeks ago, on a lark, I looked it up in my local library. What do you know? It was there. I got it out and have read it to Stinky, who has found he likes it pretty well. I like it, too. It's got brave kids who stand up for what is right and a nice little story line. Quite a good story to read to your bratty kid sister.



It's Richard's birthday this week. He's 39 of course :) I know he doesn't read the internet, but some of my other sibs do. If y'all see him, tell him I say happy birthday!

(*)>

Doesn't It Just Figure

I'm taking today off (my first and only personal day!) to celebrate the Moth's nativity. Yesterday, I woke up sneezing with a sore throat. By last night, it was fever, sweats, inability to swallow... Spring colds stink, but usually I don't get them. I guess this is my punishment for taking a day off.

We're going to ride on a steam train today and we're going to a place my husband detests. But I hear it's great for little kids. The last time we went to the Village, we were poor grad students and we were hanging out with some muckety mucks. They simply didn't comprehend that we couldn't spend more than $10 for lunch. So we drank water and split an appetizer while they had a full meal. It stuck with John for a long time, and he associated it with the place. I'm guessing it's actually kind of nice. They have this "giggleberry fair" thing for kids. It may be awful. I'm betting Stinky and the Moth love it, though.

I wonder if Stinky's school will mark this as an unexcused absence and take us to truancy court. Now, that would be interesting! Our school did that to my parents once - my brother stayed home for something they didn't think was excusable. Consider that most of us had close to perfect attendance (our mom believed if you were home, you were either working on the farm or you were laying down on the couch with no book, tv, radio, or anything else. Believe you me, school was the preferred option.)

One of my best students (she would be a best student in any school) got pulled into truancy court this week. She's missed 4 days total this year. Hell, I met one of my students for the FIRST TIME this week. I've been teaching since early February. I wonder if all of her absences are good?

(*)>

shorty want a thug

Do you like my title? It's the only set of lyrics I know from Lil Wayne's song Lollipop. My girls thought it quite funny when I said them out loud yesterday. I always accentuate my whiteness, just to get them to laugh. It generally works.

Life as a city teacher is better. Much better. I've always made fun of that storm-norm-perform group work theory crap. I'm not much of an HR person. But since my university supervisor is gone, I finally feel like I can "norm" with my kids. And I'm having a bit of fun. Hence, the quote of this week's top pop 40 song.

I liked the Alicia Keys week better. Or Chris Brown. This thug crap is too close to my girls. I wish... oh well. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, as my dear mudder might say.

~~~~~

Life in the dusty aviary is the same old same old. Stinky and the Moth have joined baseball and t-ball, respectively. Now, I don't think I've posted on this before, and I'm too lazy to go look. So let me just say, t-ball is the strangest suburban tradition I've ever seen. Let all the kids hit, don't keep score, and stand around in the cold spring weather cheering them on. I told John he's on his own with this crap. I think it's pointless.

In fact, Sean's baseball team is a little better. They have a pitching machine, they count outs and runs. They have winners and losers. This might seem intuitively obvious, but they didn't used to keep score or have winners. It's about the game, not the competition. Right? Heh. the kids always kept score.

This was brought painfully to light when one of the kids cried at receiving "best sport" trophy - all the kids received trophys. When asked why he cried, he said that "best sport" was reserved for the worst player. The kids all understand waaaaay better than their parents might like.

I don't know who we think we're doing favors for, in the end. Life is not fair. There are winners and losers, and if you have no talent for sport, it's best to find that out and find out what you do have talent for. Padding our kids in cotton wool just makes the inevitable fall more painful, methinks. But that's just my opinion.

~~~~~

Tim has been funny as heck lately. He started singing a song last night - or as he might say, he started singing a song tomorrow. (he has a really tough time with tenses. go figure.) "ABCDEFG, Barbie is my enemy..." then he sang about nefarious downfalls for Barbie. Something about pooping on her head and green freckles on her face. (wonder where he got that from, Uncle Larry.).

Tim also has some funny mothisms - he says "bit" instead of "put" - "I bit it on the table". That was a weird one for us to figure out. But the boy has charisma. Not sure where he got it from. Not from me or John, for sure.

Not to be out-done, Stinky has taken his job of "class animal expert" to the extreme. His "job" in his class is to maintain the terrariums. Now, in all of my teaching classes, I have been told to give the problem ADHD kids "jobs" to make them feel important, keep them busy, and, best of all, contently out of your hair. Since Sean announced he has this "job", I'm wondering what a holy terror he must be in his classroom. But his teacher maintains that beyond being messy, he's a rule follower to the extreme (the perfect blend of John and I. Said it b4, say it again - poor kid).

He has homework every night and cries and whines every night as we do it. His handwriting is ATROCIOUS and I have taken to calling him chickenscratch, as that's what his dad used to be called in school. He doesn't like this. He calls me mean. Best he learns the truth at a young age, no?

But at the same time, he is so much fun. He constantly comes up with games (mostly battle and war games) and he likes all the same kind of tv shows and movies that I like. We're patiently waiting for Prince Caspian to come out - and Journey to the Center of the Earth. He even shares popcorn. Unlike his dad, he's a good movie date.

~~~~~

OK, well, the kids are starting to roll in. I have to go give a test. Yipee skipee. Wish them luck.

(*)>

the week to end all weeks

OK, I started my new job, took my mom to the ER, got my mom out of the hospital, got reamed in a review, and got the flu. All in a little more than a week.

Does that count as excuse enough to not blog?

So what, besides that garbage, has happened?

Hmmmm....

I read an article detailing how our Wonderful Mr. Fumo from Philly has a little bit of a bookkeeping issue. It seems his home, which he purchased for about $200,000 a number of years ago, has increased substantially in value. He put it up for sale at 7 million.

Problem is, he's been paying taxes on a $200,000 property the whole time.

His house was reassessed, but somehow, that reassassment paper vanished.

Just another case of the rich getting richer. But since he's a democrat, you'll never really hear about it.

Speaking of Democrats, I've decided I'm voting for Mr. Obama in the primary. (yes, I'm a registered Democrat. Believe it or not.) The reasons? 1) he earned his chops. Ms. Clinton got elected because of her name. 2) he has the least clout, therefore the least ability to forward the socialist agenda.

On the personal front, not a whole lot is going on. Stinky and the Moth are ready to play outside again. Stinky has cub scouts to get him through. The Moth, though, doesn't have a lot of outlets. This morning, he was putting together trains and singing along with a CD his grandma gave him. I never thought my suburbanite kid would be singing about moose and milk cows. He does like to sing. Especially while making train tracks. weird kid.

I'm torn about telling stories about my job now, but I guess I can tell this one. One of my kids was really unhappy on Friday. She told me she wanted to stab me. I said, "OK, just do it quick and use something sharp." Then I said, "wait, my life insurance isn't paid up yet, can you wait a few months?" She looked at me like I was from another planet, which, I guess, I am. But it diffused the anger!

I'll tell you what, my days do fly by now! NEVER a dull moment

(*)>

12 Years Ago Today

It was a beautiful Saturday, perfect temperatures, changing leaves... Just what you want of autumn in Northeast PA. That quiet day, in a little church in Lemon, John surrendered to a life of nagging.

He regrets it to this day. Poor sap.

I'm two dress sizes smaller(!), he still wears the same suit to church. We have more grey than I would have thought for 30 somethings, but that's probably more to do with Stinky and the Moth than our crazy lifestyle. We have our little boxes in our little suburb. And we are happy.

Happy anniversary, dirty bird. Here's to another couple of dozen!

(*)>

Updates from Birdland

Poor Titus


After an absolutely BANNER day yesterday (car ride, swimming, went for a walk, got scraps from a picnic), he ended the day tearing the ligament in his hind leg. He can’t walk. John is sick with worry - didn’t even sleep last night. So, off to the vet he went this morning. To be held there til they figure out what to do. He hates the vet. Poor Titus!

~~~~~

The kids are having, to all accounts, a banner summer. Sean is in big boy camp, where he manages to “misplace” a major article of clothing every day. The other day, he came home with 2 right shoes on. How the Hades do you do that?! Boy’s got talent, I tell you. But this is not your regular suburban sports camp. He’s learning to fish, start fires, rope climb, creek walk, do archery, ride a horse, and all other sorts of boy stuff. He’s in HEAVEN. His Christmas “list” now includes a war horse, a suit of armor, a bow and a quiver of arrows. I’m sure Santa’ll get right on that.

Tim is still at daycare, which they rename “camp kaleidoscope” for the summer. A rose by any other name, yadda yadda yadda. After Stinky lost a shoe, t-shirt, shorts, pair of swim trunks, a pair of socks, and a towel last week, we told him he was going to have to go back to Camp Kaleidoscope for the summer if he keeps losing shit. He never lost stuff there.

Well, when he realized this was daycare, it was like our house was the wailing wall. There was great weeping, gnashing of teeth, and beating of breast. It was funny as a crutch. Did I say we’re mean parents?

The Moth meanwhile keeps building up his teasing repertoire. First, he started singing the songs from Sean’s graduation, which Sean didn’t like. I mean, they’re his songs, right? So, in the car coming back from Baltimore, we had “take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd…” of course, Tim gets some of the words wrong… “cause it’s fruit, fruit, fruit in the hallway…” Sean got even angrier because the words were wrong. So of course the words got worse and worse til they were a conglomeration of “dirty” “worms” “bugs” “boogers” and other pre-k mots du jour. Mothy giggled, and eventually, Stinky (on my cue, of course) started singing the Thomas theme with similar words. Which Tim didn’t find nearly so funny.

I ended the joust by playing their favorite song of the week.

I can’t wait for 5 years from now, when I tell Sean he loved this song, and he cried when I told him he’d hate it later. He said, “I always want to like this song!”

Have I mentioned he’s a drama queen?

~~~~~

Why were we in the car? We went to celebrate my sister in law’s birthday - a three-hour water tour on the Potomac. But since the skipper didn’t introduce his first mate as “little buddy”, we figured we were safe. It was dinner and dancing and DC at its finest. I’d recommend it to anyone; a great time was had by all. (Thanks for inviting us guys!)


And that’s it for dispatches. Back to sunning myself on the Lido deck (not).

(*)>

The Internet Totally Rules, Part 2 (?)

You know, every once in a while, there’s something that gets in your head that you have to track down. Correct that – if you’re a crazy type-A birdwoman, something gets in your head and you have to track it down. (Yes, dear MIL, I am reading Kitchen Table Wisdom. But the force is strong in this one, and I will not learn to let go for many years, I assure you.)

As many of you may know, I’m studying to be a teacher. One of the pedagogy classes I just finished had us trying to find many different ways of teaching the same material. One of the ways that always reaches out to me (as it would to any self-respecting songbird) is music. Since I’m headed for teaching middle-school science and math, music is a strange but effective tie-in.

Effective, you say?

“to understand the fundamental facts of energy, you must have a working knowledge of its terminology. From atoms down to x-rays, come along and sing with me the ABC’s and 123’s of energy…”

-Tom Glazer and Dottie
Evans, What is Energy, pt 1, as played ad nauseum in Mr. Todrick’s 5th grade “science and music” class. Where it became an earworm of huge proportions for certain members of the birdwoman clan.

So, this song, or rather the "energy in motion is kinetic" "energy that's waiting is potential" song, got stuck in my head when I was writing up a paper for my class. I Googled it today. And, what d’ya know? Jef P. has taken those cool, hip records and provided mp3’s for all of us nostalgic 30-40 somethings to hum along with.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go spam my sister’s mailbox with the crazy chemical energy song. Heh.

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Does Anyone Still Read This Blog?

After a huge hiatus, imposed by Real Life, I wonder... however, I'll still continue to post, simply because it's my vent place. If no one reads, well, *shrug*, no skin off my nose!

Last night, my classes ended (for the summer). In the words of Braveheart: “FREEDOM!” I will commence to be entirely too lazy for the rest of the summer.

Stinky has gone away for the week – down to his grandparents. Boy is the mothman jealous. It’s really amazing how big Tim has gotten in the past year. He’s a little boy now; the cherubic toddler is but a mist that I can only see when he sleeps. I’ve been a bit worried about him lately – he’s started wetting the bed again. I think it’s because he’s just exhausted and he’s sleeping through the need to pee. You see, John is a big believer that kids should play and play and play – especially outdoors when it’s nice. So, our kids play and get tired.

John is a good dad, though all he wanted for Dad’s day was the Dangerous Book For Boys. It’s a hit. If you haven’t seen it, and you have young boys, you should check it out.

Not all dads are so cool. This story ticked me off (reg required), so I thought I’d share:

IF LOSING HER beloved son Kenny on 9/11 was unbearable for
Philadelphia mom Elsie Goss-Caldwell, what's happened since is unconscionable.

Kenny's father, who she says abandoned the family when Kenny was a
toddler and played no role in his life, is seeking to profit from his death.

In an act of shameless greed, Leon Caldwell Sr. has filed for half of
the nearly $3 million awarded to Kenny's estate from the September 11th Victim
Compensation Fund of 2001.
…
[Caldwell Sr.] last saw Kenny in 1984, at her
mother's funeral, 17 years before Kenny's death.

And while he claims to have supported the boys financially, he was
still more than $12,000 in arrears on court-ordered child support when Kenny
died, Elsie's brief said.

At $30 a week, that's a lot of missed payments.
…
Kenny had
called his mom the morning of Sept. 11 to tell her he loved her, but had to get
out of the World Trade Center because of "a bomb."

He was an executive for a consulting company on the 102nd floor of the
North Tower - the first building hit by the terrorists. His body was never
found.

Weeks after Kenny vanished in the rubble, she left messages on his cell
phone beseeching him not to give up, that "Mommy" was still looking for
him.
...
But when she showed up to fill out a death certificate, she was told
she wasn't listed as next of kin for Kenny, who was unmarried and had no
children.

His long-estranged father had signed the papers, seeking to be a
beneficiary of his estate.
…
To some people, Caldwell's action may seem
indefensible. Yet he never really has had to defend it. His case is simple: He
is a surviving, albeit estranged, parent; Kenneth died without a will; he has a
right to the money.

It has prevailed so far. Three years ago, the New York State Workers'
Compensation Board awarded Kenneth's estate $50,000 on a claim filed by his
mother, who is the estate's administrator. Leon intervened seeking half - and
got it.

He later was ordered to return $12,460 to his ex-wife to cover unpaid
child support, but the point was made: The law didn't require a good father,
just a biological one.

I think there will be a special place in hell for people like this deadbeat dad.

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Happy Sunday!

I’m sitting here, reading blogs instead of going to choir. Bad me. John said, “Do you want to skip church entirely?” (When I was a kid, there used to be a local program on the T.V. – Skip Church on Sunday Morning at 11!) The Moth was sitting on my lap, and Stinky was playing war (his army fighting the kissy kissy army – they kiss him if they capture him, eeeeewwww).

I said to Tim, “Do you want to go to Sunday School or stay home?”

“Go to Sunnay Skoo,” he rasped.

“Stay home!” Sean shouted.

It reminds me of Sunday school when I was a kid. We sang lots of songs (often with accompanying hand signals) like:

Climb, Climb up Sunshine Mountain, heavenly breezes blow
Climb, Climb up Sunshine Mountain, faces all aglow
Turn, turn from sin and doubting, look to God on high
Climb, Climb up Sunshine Mountain, you and I
(*GAK*)

Which my brothers, sarcastic lot that they are, changed into:
Don’t climb up Sunshine Mountain, don’t you be so dumb
Don’t climb up Sunshine Mountain, you’ll turn into scum
Turn, turn from Sunday School and church because it’s yuck
Don’t climb up Sunshine Mountain, you’ll get stuck!
(that’s more like it!)

This post is in honour of my own, sweet (heh) mudder, who raised all of us cherubic pups.

Poor Mom. Even if she does have hands. (That’s a Ron story. For those who think Ron is so innocent, and John is the mischievous one. When Ron didn’t get cookies sent to him at college, he told his roommates that it was because his mother didn’t have hands, and they believed him, expressing their surprise when the met Mom and her hands…)

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Down in Birdland

So, I got my arse out of bed yesterday and went running. The time change has killed me, so this was my first run since Saturday. About 4 miles out (one mile from home), I felt a snap in my right calf. I finished out the "jog" - and by the time I got home, I could barely walk. Sigh. I can walk today, but steps still hurt. What say you real atheletes out there - should I wait a week to run again, or do you think I can run earlier (say, Saturday or Sunday)?

Last night was a rehearsal for Saturday's show. Whoa, I really suck at singing. It's drilled in when you hear yourself with a microphone. I'm thinking if I get a little plastered before Saturday night, maybe this will be doable. Then again, maybe not. Someone tell me why I agreed to do this? Never again.

I do have one good thing to talk about- I read a fantastic book yesterday. Tomorrow, the River, by Dianne Gray, is fantabulous. For a full review, see my amazon review to the right.

My mom's birthday is Saturday, and as a present, she gets to go home (the kids will miss Grandma a lot, but she misses her farmhouse.) Now, I think I should get her a present, but I have no idea what to get her. Maybe a box of chocolates to take home with her? Anyone have any ideas?

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