I couldn't possibly make this sh*t up.

Archive for August, 2011

Okay, some updates before Irene hits

She’s a biotch or so I’m hearing. I have a few updates to various things and I have to get them out before we lose power. 2 million without power in Virginia. Wow. I have a flashlight and a case of water. Think I need anything else? Sigh…

Well, Jack took his blue belt test on Friday, with a fractured arm! He did great. I however totally flubbed my green belt test. I passed, but for some reason, right in the middle of doing my form, which I have memorized like the back of my hand, I got dizzy or something so I sort of stumbled and looked down. Dammit. But still, I broke that board like an S.O.B! I asked when I would be able to work with the weapons (which usually comes at a higher belt). The master said, Um, I think you’re ready now. LOL! Do I have aggression? Yeah! Do I have a need to hit things? Hell yeah! Should I be trusted with martial arts weaponry? Probably not…

We also had a funny thing happen last week. Remember our caterpillar Chewbacca, and how he hatched into the most gorgeous white fluffy moth? I have more pictures of the release. We took the basil stalk out of the butterfly house and set it on the deck table. He kind of dried his wings for a bit. We got bored. We went in for a few minutes. When we came back he was gone. Bye Chewbacca! Then I grabbed the basil stalk to chuck it, and lo and behold, another totally different type of caterpillar was clinging to its branches. This one was green and smooth. I put it into the butterfly house, same setup as Chewbacca. Sigh. Am I a caterpillar safe house now? Jack named it Basil because it’s green and smooth and eats basil. Brilliant. Two days later, it cocoons. So I’ve included some photos of THAT. It’s like totally happening over here, let me tell you. I think Bloomberg is yapping on TV… The rains have begun and they’re so mad!

Jack: Will our roof get ripped off?

me: No.

Jack: Are we gonna have a bad flood?

me: No, we’re on a hill.

Jack: Is the power going out for days and days?

me: Probably not. We’re prepared if it does.

Jack: Sigh. Will school be closed forever??

me: Maybe just the first day. But you’ll have to make it up next summer.

Jack: Sighhh, what’s the point of a stupid Hurricane then! Sorry!


(click to enlarge the photos. Especially the moth ones, they’re so cool!)

Jack's last moves as a purple belt

Jack's breaking technique - Hook Kick

Jack's the only one looking at me.

Lookit the little fuzzy face

Too bad we didn't get to see him fly for the first time

The NEW caterpillar "Basil"

Basil's little cocoon. Wonder what he will grow up to be?


Mad scientist at large

Jack: Mom, I want to do science.

me: Like what?

Jack: I don’t know, like with my microscope maybe? Can we make the baby brine shrimp experiment?

me: You lost the instructions so I have no clue how to do that.

Jack: Nuh-uh! It’s in the toy bin over there!

me: Well…

Jack: YOU go get it.

me: That’s a little too bossy for me. And I have to finish this school paperwork first.

Jack: So are you going to sit around all day being lazy or are you going to help me?

me: (dagger look) Would you like to try that again?

Jack: Sighhh. Sorry!! I can’t do this by myself. I need your brain!

me: (putting the papers down) Fine…

Jack: (jumps off his chair) I’ll go get a saw.

me: (!)

The art of Suffrage

me: (driving with Jack) … and then we have to return your Smurfs disc because it’s overdue…

Jack: Can we get another movie?

me: Library’s closed. Maybe we can get something from Red Box?

Jack: What like your Dexter number 5?

me: Season 5. Already got it.

Jack: Is he a bad guy? What’s it about?

me: It’s about the Miami police department. He’s … kind of a good guy.

Jack: Then why’s he always covered in blood?

me: What??

Jack: On the movie case.

me: Oh. He helps people that were in accidents and stuff.

Jack: What movie can I get? Am I old enough for PG?

me: Sometimes…depends…we’ll have to see what they have.

Jack: How about old fashioned movies?

me: What about them?

Jack: Are there any at Red Box?

me: What do you mean, like that YOU can get?

Jack: I don’t know.

me: I don’t think you’d be interested. We’ll see if we can find a kid’s movie.

Jack: How come you’re always in charge of what we get and not me!?

me: I’m the mom and I’m in charge. Forever.

Jack: Okay then, how about we just pick an old movie like waayyyy back when women couldn’t vote or something.

(Is he putting me in my place, or what??)

What did you say? What did you say?

me: Time for bed!

Jack: Time for bed!

me: Really…?

Jack: Really!

me: Sigh.

Jack: Sigh.

me: Seriously you have to brush your teeth Jack.

Jack: Seriously you have to brush your teeth Jack.

me: Knock it off for a minute!

Jack: Knock it off for a minute.

me: I’m a big dork.

Jack: I know you are.

me: Grrrrr!

He cracks up and I chase him around the house, grab him and tickle him until he almost pees. Typical night.

How to come up with your band name (if you’re 6)

Jack: Vixen Overkill!!! Yeahhhh!!!

me: What??

Jack: My band.

me: You have a band?

Jack: Not yet. But I will.

me: Cool. What will you play?

Jack: I’ll sing. Then I don’t have to learn anything.

me: Aha. So how did you come up with that band name. Do you even know what that means?

Jack: Of course I do! (he chuckles and I worry that his friends are teaching him some more bad things)

me: Well? What does it mean.

Jack: No, first, here’s how you GET to your band name.

me: Oh this should be good. How does one get to “Vixen”, hmmm?

Jack: Okay, FIRST you take one of Santa’s reindeer names. So I picked Vixen.

me: (had to hide my surprise) Oh REALLY? Interesting.

Jack: And then you look around to the computer that’s close to you and read the writing on it. I saw the computer at camp said ADC something something and then Overkill. Cool huh?

me: Who told you how to do this?

Jack: I just TOLD you that I came up with it! Sheesh!

me: Wow, I’m impressed. So what would my band name be?

Jack: Do the formula.

me: Okay…I pick Comet. (and I look at my computer for the first words that pop out) Ummm, this is an iMac, so I don’t see any words. Let me look on the little hub down here. Oh, it says “setup”.

Jack: Comet Setup. Well, it’s not as cool as Vixen Overkill, but it’s the name you have to use. (he looks at me with big eyes and nods solemnly)

Eating ice cream cone = Cardio

I have never been one to take eating an ice cream cone lightly. Once you’re in, you’re in. You have to commit entirely. It’s like a 10-15 minute relationship, depending on the size of the cone and the voraciousness of your appetite, multiplied by the temperature outside and who you’re with. These are all factors in your total ice cream eating experience.

If it’s sweltering hot out, you have to step your game up a notch and catch all the drips, turning the cone frantically, never pausing for fear of a major leak that could take down the entire structure. I hear drill sergeant voices in my head…”Turn”! “Pivot”! “Eat”! “LICK Goddamn it”!!! It’s almost too much pressure. Almost. And if you’re with people that like to have long lengthy conversations while eating a cone, well then, that’s a whole other thing altogether. I hold up the “one minute” finger as I massacre my cone. Yeah the finger stays up until I’m done. I don’t care who’s waiting for me to answer them. They shouldn’t have invited me for ice cream if they’re offended.

I also have this … shall we call it a “milk” thing. I will not share milk or ice cream or creamy desserts with ANYone, unless I carefully divide them ahead of time. I don’t drink my cereal milk. Ever. I don’t dunk cookies. I tried, and yes it tasted good, but the dry heaves took all the pleasure out of that. You can understand, right? (Just imagine how I felt when this happened…)

Now take ALL that “fun”, and try and teach it to a 6-year-old, or younger, whatever the case may be. I almost need to go home and sedate myself after we’re finished with a trip to Dairy Queen.

me: Do you want it in a cup?

Jack: No, definitely a cone.

me: (mild panic) But then it drips all down your wrists, and you get all sticky, so…

Jack: Cone.

me: Sigh. Okay.

Jack: Oh I love the twisty ice cream!

me: Let’s go outside to eat it.

Jack: It’s so HOT out.

me: Actually, maybe we should eat inside? (I look longingly back into the frigid interior) It will melt too quickly out here.

Jack: No!! I’ll eat it REAL fast.

me: I hope so. Oh, hey it’s dripping back there. You have to turn Jack.

Jack: I AM turning. Sheesh.

me: No, here…turn it again. LICK! It’s getting all down your hand. (gag)

Jack: (trying frantically to keep up with my instructions) Hey, guess what, after we finish the ice cream we should —

me: (full panic) NO talking, just catch the drips! Don’t mash down the top with your mouth. Why are you biting the bottom off your cone!!??

Jack: So I can suck out the ice cream.

me: That’s what you do with a pointy cone, these just cave in. Sigh…

Jack: Oh, uh oh! It just caved in. (he starts shoveling pieces in his mouth and licking his hands)

me: (feeling faint) Okay okay, here just eat that and take these napkins.

Jack: (mouth entirely full) Ah thuhnk I gaht dum in ma eye!

me: Why is it in your eye! OH for Pete’s sake. Let’s go back in and wash you up.


Back inside it’s 50 degrees cooler, the kids all have cones that are still frozen and they’re eating them nicely while their parents talk to each other. Like humans. I’m covered in the remnants of chocolate/vanilla sludge with bits of cone stuck to my wrists and there’s a huge drip down my HELLOOOO expensive purse!

I’m more of a cookie person.

On and off like a faucet

Jack: (crying hysterically) Wahhhhhhh!!! In like 10 years you and Daddy will be dead and I’ll have no parents!! Waaahhhh!

me: We’ll only be 52 then. I think we’ll be fine for a long time.

Jack: (stops crying immediately) Really? Oh.

me: All better?

Jack: (thinks about it for a second) Waaaahhhhhhh! In 50 years you’ll BOTH BE DEAD and I’ll be a… (he stops crying) …what’s that called?

me: Orphan.

Jack: Wahhhhhh!! I’ll be an orphannnnnnnn!!! (blows his nose and clings to me sobbing all over my shirt)

me: Sweetie, take a breath. Why do you think these things before bed?

Jack: (crying and hiccuping) Just…Let… Me… Hyperlate!  (more sniffing and sobbing)

me: Hyperlate?

Jack: Until I pass out and dieeeeee. Waaaahhhhhh!!!

me: Oh, you mean hyperventilate?

Jack: (stops crying immediately) Oh. Ha! Is that what it’s called? What did I say? Hyperlate? That’s soooo funny!!  Hey Mom? Because I’m so sad, will you brush my teeth for me?

(And they say we’re moody? Sheesh.)