Conversations, competitions....

H - Mom, can I borrow your camera?

K - Ahhhh NO. Why do you need it anyways?

H - Cuz I want to take a picture of the hole in the sandbox

K - Stop digging holes and you are NOT using my camera, go find your own.

H - But I can't fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiind either of them!!

K - You have two cameras and you can't find either one, yet you don't understand why I won't let you use mine?

H - yeah. Why won't you? You're meaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!! You're selfish! You just want me to have NO FUN AT ALL today (side note - hahahaha, she's on to my evil game, apparently)

K - Go find your own damn cameras. If you can't take care of them, you're sure as hell not using mine.

She's since gone off whining about all the injustice in the world. Such a hard life, I *almost* feel sorry for her!!!


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Every year I say I am not buying another damn Slip & Slide.

Every year, I buy a new one. I'm not quite certain why I do that. I have to post the pics of the box and of what it REALLY looks like, but I'll do that later.

Right now, I'll tell you about the girls.

All morning long, H was consistently beating the pants off A. H would slide on her belly and win every race (it's a double wide); A landed on her knees time and time again and only went half way down the slide.

Then A figured it out.

And I couldn't tell WHO won anymore, so I told them the winner was whoever grabbed the flag first.

At first it was an even split - they won alternate races and all was good.

But the more A slid, the more she fine-tuned herself until she was sliding so well she would shoot off the end of the slide, which was funny as hell to watch, particularly as she twisted to grab the flag as she shot past.

H did NOT like this turn of events at all, and made certain to let all of the neighbors know about it by screaming, yelling, and pretty much throwing a tantrum that her sister was kicking her butt every race. Forget the fact that SHE won every race all morning - all that mattered was that she was not winning now.

A, being the little snot she is, would jump up, thrust the flag over her head, and stand there staring at her sister as if daring her to just TRY and get the flag away. No laughing. No smiling. Just a look of utter triumph.

I couldn't help but laugh. And at the same time, I am so afraid of what is going to happen during meet season this year......

Daycare Dramatics

R (9.5yrs) & Amber (8.5yrs) arrive. I CLEARLY explain they are ALL going upstairs to QUIETLY watch a movie, that the girls are tired and need to rest, that they are not to do anything other than watch a movie, NO video games, NO toys, NO NOTHING. Sit there, lie there, I don't care, it's QUIET REST TIME and you need to be QUIET and REST.

R asks if they can play video games

Did I not just say NO?

Then he asks why.

My head flies off as I spew profanities at him.

They all disappear upstairs.

R comes back downstairs and asks if I know where "The Wild" is.

I say no.

He asks again, you know, in case I know THIS time.

I say no again.

He asks a third time.

I lose my mind and ask if he can SEE THE PILE OF SHIT in front of the TV, point out it's probably in that big pile, and perhaps THEY SHOULD LOOK FOR IT because I have picked up the damn DVDs TOO MANY TIMES already this week and I'm not doing it again, if they can't take care of them I sure as hell can't be bothered to go find it for them.

He whines - actually WHINES!!! - "But Aaaaaa and I waaaaant to seeeeee it! It's the ooooooooooooonly one we waaaaaaaaaaaaant"

My head flies off and explodes.

H yells down the stairs, "R YOU BETTER STOP SHE'S NOT NICE WHEN YOU DON'T LISTEN!!!!"

I guess I AM getting through on SOME level to her after all......

Call me Hef!

S (3yrs) comes running through to where I am sitting last night, wearing only a shirt and a purple bucket on his head.

He stops about 6" short of me, pushes the bucket up so he can glare out from underneath the rim, and informs me, "I'm not S anymore. Call me Hef!"

I laugh - cuz seriously, a half naked 3-yo Hef? hahahahahaha I look at his dad and say "Did he just tell me to call him Hef, or have I been drinking again?"

R looks at me like I'm crazy and asks S what he said.

"HEF!", he yells. "CALL ME HEF!! NOT S, NOT KEVIN, NOT HEAVEN - HEF!!!! HEF!!!"

He pulls the bucket back down over his head and burns out of the room, bare bottom hanging out from below his shirt.

I need to stop watching TV when he's awake.