I managed to hold it together long enough to tell him that it was inappropriate to write things like this on schoolwork, but it took some willpower.
Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category
Rollie’s Homework Funny
Saturday, March 6th, 2010The Pirate Queen, and her Former Associates
Saturday, March 6th, 2010So, I am the Pirate Queen. I know, I know. . . I should have told you all. But we don’t really talk about it.
That’s a lie. Todd finally told the kids about a year ago.
“Your Mother’s The Pirate Queen.”
I was a little miffed that he didn’t tell them i am The Bandit Queen, because i love her, but I guess Pirate Queen is pretty bitchin’ too. The kids were in awe. They scream and get that scared look when I play pirate queen. We even have an old trunk in our bedroom that belonged to my Aunt Lessie. Todd told the kids that they can’t go into the trunk because it contains a skeleton. In reality, it holds:
a couple of tees that belonged to the kids when they were babies
Love letters and crap from a couple of ex-boyfriends (guess i should get rid of them, but i think they are funny)
three old hat boxes
mardi gras beads
college diploma and cap and gown
pennies
photos
God knows what else. (I don’t open it! There’s a skeleton in there!)
So, the other day, Tiller and I were at Jason’s Deli. The cool thing about JD is that they have both ice cream and a salad bar. I can get healthy stuff and tiller can get diabetes. Win win.
So, we are sitting there. Tiller has her ice cream cone in one hand and her potato chip in another, dipping the chips into the ice cream. Her hair makes her look like a mental patient, because she cut it herself that morning with craft scissors. I am on my iPhone, getting my ass kicked in Scrabble by Jerry Kane, which is sad, because i have like a million hours to come up with a play while Tiller, the slowest eater in the East, finishes her Ice Cream Chips.
Tiller whispers, pointing a finger over my head, her eyes HUGE in her face: “Mama.”
Me, distractedly, because how am I going to overcome the damn EIGHTY POINT WORD JERRY KANE JUST LAID ON ME? “Yes, baby?”
Tiller: “Mama, look. It’s a pirate.” Her frightened whisper catches my attention.
Me, pushing her pointing finger down to the tabletop: “Baby, it’s not nice to point.” I look over my right shoulder as a man walks past. I watch him walk to his table, his back to us, then he pulls out a chair, sits down, and his face is revealed to me as he turns to his dining partner.
He’s wearing an eye patch.
The Decemberists’ The Bandit Queen, for reference:
Tiller’s New Do
Thursday, March 4th, 2010Yep. Tiller’s turn to butcher her own hair. I have to give her credit- it does have kind of an edgy Joan Jett look to it.
What are you going to be?
Thursday, February 25th, 2010Tiller and I were sitting on the love toilets this afternoon. (That’s what we call our Jack and Jill toilets, right by each other, but separated by a door. You can hold hands while taking a poo. Love toilets.)
Me: “What ya been doing?”
T: “I’m playing doctor with Snoopy.”
Me: “Are you going to be a Doctor when you grow up?”
T: “Maybe.”
Me: “You will have to study hard.”
T: “I will have to go to college.”
Me: “Yes, you will have to go to college and then medical college, too.”
T: “I can be anything I want to be.”
I nod my head, smiling.
Me: “Yes, you can.”
[Tiller sits there thinking, hand on fist, elbow on her knee.]
T: “Mama?”
Me: [wishing I could just read my magazine in peace.] “Yes?”
T: “What are you going to be when you grow up?”
Me: “Gosh, I don’t know. For right now, I am your Mama.”
T: “You can be anything you want to be.”
Me: “Thanks, baby.”
I think I mostly am what I want to be, but it’s nice to have her support. And it is nice that we are doing something right. She has gotten the message: She can be anything she wants to be.
A Shower for an Old Friend (and a New One)
Sunday, February 21st, 2010Last night, Todd stayed with the kids and Camille picked me up to go to my old friend Kevin Fagan’s wedding shower. I have known Kevin since 5th grade (Mrs. Godwin’s class, represent!) and I can’t even do the math on that many years, but we went to elementary school all the way through college together. He is one of the most unique, funny, smart, loyal, and sincere people I have ever met. He is also in the top five for strangest people that I know, but then I kind of like strange people and collect them, and keep them around me. It helps to tone down my own weird when I drown myself in other oddballs.
Jamie and I went to high school together. We go hears without seeing each other, but i have seen him three times in the last three or four months.
The happy couple opening their gifts. The Rainwaters sitting on the hearth between them. As my Mom would say, it was old home week.
Don't they look real purty?
I love these girls.
Matt and I gettin' all waify and supermodel for the camera. I think he looks a little slow in this one, and I look like a bear ate a chunk of my face.
I think she is checking his beard for small insects or birds' nests. I love him, because he quietly plays along with our games.
This time, Natalie plays nice.
Nat and Kevin, the Groom.
I still remember the day that Camille introduced me to Brian. We were in high school, and buying tickets for some show, but I can't remember what for the life of me. Camille had that red car.
This time from Matt and Nat.
Jamie did very well for himself. His wife is a sweetheart.
Kevin and his high school friends. From left: Jamie, Camille, Kevin, Natalie, and Me.
Adding in Matt and Brian, and we have the Bulldogs.
Kev, this girl's a keeper. We likey.
Isn't young love wonderful?
This one just kinda cracks me up.
Not sure what I am doing here.
I think this is right before he re-enacts the great Roswell High School Air Conditioning Walkout of 1989.
Anyone who drinks with Natalie on even a semi-regular basis will recognize this sort of thing. Basically, you just follow her around with a camera and stuff like this happens.
We didn't actually go to Dixie Tavern, but instead went to Ru San's next door. But I love this sign, and love that it is right next to a sushi place. I had edamame and Brian and I split the Dr. Zhivago. Yum!
You can't tell, but I am trying to reach for his firecracker roll while this picture is being made. That was some yummy stuff. (That's what she said.)
That Julie was such a wild child. After the shower, she really let loose and chugged sake.
The thing that strikes me as funny (and comforting) is that hanging out with all these folks that I have known for 20 plus years or more, they feel like home. Family. I know that they have seen me at my best and my worst and they still love me. Just like family.
The 80’s Comb
Monday, February 15th, 2010You thought this was going to be some fun post about 80s hairstyles [Robin, I’m lookin’ at you], and oh, are you going to be disappointed. It’s a post about a comb. From the 80s. No, I am not kidding you.
See, we were talking about 80s stuff at a girls’ night recently, and somehow Todd’s comb came up.
We're taking it on Antiques Roadshow next time they come around.
I am pretty sure it is the comb that he had in middle school or high school, because I remember people having similar ones, TWENTY FIVE YEARS AGO.
What is truly funny about this is that I started dating Todd eleven years ago this week (we met on February the 13th, 1999) and I think i laughed once or twice about this comb, like, “haha, couldn’t afford a new comb, huh?” and then somehow, i just started using the comb when I was spending the night over there, and one day, the comb was not funny to me anymore, and now i use the comb from 1986, and don’t even think twice about it, and that is just sad, and some kind of even sadder comment on what marriage does to a girl.
Like I’m so downtrodden that I can’t even buy my own damn modern day comb. And if i did buy one, it wouldn’t be aqua, white, and pink, that’s for dang sure.
Daddy’s Combat Boots
Saturday, February 13th, 2010Just wore these babies out to walk the dogs in the snow at Pop’s house. Pop would have loved to see this snow. . . .
Bedtime Cheer: Discussions of Aging and Death
Friday, February 12th, 2010I tucked Tiller in the other night, then went into tuck Rollie in. He was reading a book, with it propped on his legs, and with a pillow behind his head.
“Night baby,” i said.
“Night, mama.”
I kissed him on the head and got a little choked up, thinking about putting him down as a baby, and how much he has grown. Rollie noticed my tears.
“Mama, why are you crying?”
“Because I am so proud of the wonderful little boy you are growing up to be. They are happy tears.”
Rollie made a face that told me that he was a bit skeptical about “happy tears.”
“Mama,” he said, “Don’t worry. I am not going to die for a long time.”
There is something about hearing my child talk about his own death that just chills me to the bone, but I don’t let them see that.
“I know that baby. Most children end up living long lives.” I’m not going to totally shield them from the harsh realities of life, either.
I kissed him again, and gave him a hug an walked towards his door.
“Mama?”
“Yes, Rollie. . .” I turned towards him, expecting the usual, “i need a glass of water/potty/medicine” stalling tactics.
“Mama, one day i will have kids and you will be a grandma.”
Boy, kid, you really know how to cheer a girl up at bedtime.
Monster!
Thursday, February 11th, 2010Evilly turns all Scully sometimes.
Bossy and Stubborn
Friday, February 5th, 2010This story will not surprise anyone who knows Rollie and me well. Rollie and I? We are just alike in so many ways. We can be a little intense. Focused to the point of obsession about things we enjoy doing. (God forbid you ask us a question while we are reading.) We don’t like to be told what to do. We are brilliant and attractive. (Okay, I just stuck in that last part.) What does this mean?
It means we fight like cats and dogs.
I know it sounds silly that I would argue with a six-year-old, but you haven’t argued until you have argued with Rollie. He really keeps me on my toes. Some days he gets the best of me. Some days he makes me cry. Some days I wonder whether he even loves me.
Last night, though, we got into an argument so absurd that it sent me into a fit of giggles. We were reading a book before bed. One of those Berenstain Bears books from Chick-fil-A. You can say whatever you want about Truett Cathy, but big props to him for not sticking another cheap, crappy plastic toy into the kids’ meals, and instead opting to give kids books. What a novel idea! Get it? Novel? I’ll be here all week, folks.
So, we are sitting on my bed like we do every night. Todd or I will sit in the middle, and Tiller and Rollie sit on either side. We still make a point to read to both of them, even though Rollie can read himself. We figure Tiller needs to get the same amount of reading that Rollie received in his first years. It is surprising how shafted the second child gets sometimes, and the way that the first child will complete tasks, sentences, and answers for the younger one, preventing the younger one from having to learn for themselves. After we read, Rollie will sometimes go into his room and read a chapter book on his own, until we make him turn out his light. (This also is absolutely nothing like me. I swear.) While we are reading with Tiller, though, Rollie will stop us if he doesn’t know a word, and we will define it for him, then continue reading.
So, last night, I was reading along, and came to the word “obstinate.” Rollie stopped me, but instead of asking what it meant, he said, “I already know what obstinate means. It means ‘bossy.'” (It’s always “I already know” with this kid – you can’t tell him anything.)
Me: “That’s great that you know this word, but it actually means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means, ‘bossy.’ Mrs. Anderson told me so.”
Mrs. Anderson is his teacher, and she is awesome. She is also very smart and I figure that she knows the meaning of obstinate, and Rollie probably just heard her wrong.
Me: “Baby, you are really close to the meaning, but it means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means ‘bossy’ and I know I am right.”
He got the unshakeable look to his face that he gets. It is a kind of “discussion over, I am not listening to you anymore, finger in my ears, singing loudly” set to his jaw. It kind of scares me. Meanwhile, Tiller is picking up the book that I had set down in my lap and is fingering through it, looking bored with the whole discussion. I realize we might be there all night.
Me: “Okay, well, it means ‘stubborn.’ You just look it up in your dictionary when you get to your room.” (Way to get the last word, Mom, I think to myself.)
Rollie: “I don’t have to look it up, because I know that it means “bossy.””
I am not sure whether the next part is due to my desire to help Rollie learn, or my desire to always be right. Not pretty, but it is probably the latter. I pick up my iPhone and google “obstinate definition.” I click on the Merriam-Webster link that comes up. I show it to Rollie. It reads:
ob·sti·nate
adj.
1. Stubbornly adhering to an attitude, opinion, or course of action; obdurate.
2. Difficult to manage, control, or subdue; refractory.
3. Difficult to alleviate or cure: an obstinate headache.
Rollie: “Well, that’s wrong. I know it means “bossy.”
Me: “Stubborn.”
Rollie: “Bossy.”
Tiller, wailing: “When are we going to finish the book?”
Me: “You’re right Tiller, let’s read.”
I begin to read, thinking about the argument with Rollie, and the fact that it was over the word ‘obstinate,’ and then i get the giggles. I can barely read the words in the book for the giggles, and the kids start giggling too, because how funny is it that Mama can’t stop giggling?
They ask why I am laughing. I tell them, “because it is funny that Mama and Rollie were arguing over whether the word obstinate means bossy or stubborn. Tiller, you can just call Rollie and me Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.”
You can call us that, too. Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.