Monday, September 29, 2008

She's a defender

Soccer season is upon us . . well, actually half-way over.

The lightbulb of understanding has officially clicked on over my daughter's head. She's a defender. Give the girl a job, and she's on it like white on rice. Nothing has gotten past her this season. And . . . last game, a girl dribbled near her (sort of around her) and was breaking away toward the goal . . . and MY girl stayed with her, ran her down, and kicked the ball out within a foot of the goal. Not a joke.

Don't think I didn't go crazy on the sideline . . . . jumped up so fast I woke Tinky.

Dysfunctional Family Habits

We have a couple of highly dysfunctional family habits. Do you?

I'm pondering them because they are there . . . well, to ponder. Also, because I find them hilarous, and in all honest, I do believe I both enable and encourage them.

We are dysfunctional family name-callers. We just are. My children have names that beg nick-names. And we use them frequently, and with vigor. Big has long been know as Jelly Bean. That has morphed into Jelly, Bean, Beaner and Bean-Bean. Her middle name has morphed into "T" and terin-dactyl, which has become dact, dacty, dactilus, polydactl and finger. She has a blanket that sheds feathers, and for that reason we call her Chicken, bok-bok, finger-lickin and sometimes, just Dinner. Middle was a big, fat baby and her name begs for rhymin' . . . so she was Creasy and Creaser. She's also rocket fast . . . which has become Race, Racer, Racee and a few other fast words. Somewhere in there she became Winkadelic . . along with Wink, Winka, Winky . . which rhymes with Stink, Stinky and Stinka, so really any combination of those will work. I've always called her Stuffed Animal. The Little one has nick names a mile long, my favorite of which include Kayak and Coyote. He has Super, Superdude, Soup, and (thanks to my yoga practice), Soup-da-bada-kinasina. Even the baby . . . never just one name . . she's Cakes, Babycakes, Number 4, The Round One, Small Fry, Barfy, Ripples or a variety of others.

Point is: how many times a day to I say, "guys, we don't call names."

Uh, an uncomfortable silence often follows, cause guess what . . . WE DO CALL NAMES. We call alot of names. Alot of fun names . . . alot of not fun names . . . . We call daddy The Ogre and they all call me Mommy Salami. Just tonight, someone in my house said "good night, Turd Box."

And this is normal here.

More on dysfunctional family behavior. We (collectively) think it's hilarious to scare each other. You can hardly walk from room to room around here but what someone doesn't jump out with a low growl and try their damndist to get you to wet your pants. The kids get me with the pantry on a daily basis. We (collectively) think it's hilarious to hide in a room and wait (a long enough wait that it nearly becomes uncomfortable) . . then come out of nowhere with a low growl, sharp fingers about calf height and go for the yowl. The kids think I should have to call them at least a few times with no answer before they start giggling and blow their own cover.

Anyway . . what do y'all have? What's out there that's weird (and that I can bring home??)

Friday, September 05, 2008

My favorite phrase this week . . .

My favorite kid phrase this week came from the very back seat of the car while we were en route to the zoo. You've all been there . . . busy traffic . . . car show happening . . . . deer in the road. Old man tourist comes to screeching halt in traffic to view bucks in velvet. Daddy says words. The world is a blur of break lights.

And from the backseat .. .

"Dad, what IS a dillweed?"

Monday, September 01, 2008

She can spell -- Sarcophagus

Middle has an, er, um, somewhat morbid fascination right now with Mummies. Well, and Egypt, and pyramids and sphynx's. Actually, anything desert-like, sandy . . . where she can read about digging for treasure and ruby eyes . . . . Yeah, it really rings her bell.

One part of me is secretly hoping that a dead bird or squirrel doesn't turn up in the backyard. If toilet paper starts disappearing at an alarming rate, I may need back-up for a backyard recon mission.

The other part of me embraces the teachable moment. Do y'all realize ('cause Middle does) that Barbie already COMES in a sarcophagus?? Just a little bit of glitter and jewel . . . and . . . . (I leave that dangling so you can see and feel the wonder in her mind . . . )

And the answer is: yes. Yes, I did cut strips of muslin up from the fabric bin. Yes, we did wrap both a barbie and a polly pocket. Yes, we glittered them. Yes, we used stick on jewels. Yes, she has pretend dead things in her room.

And I tell you this . . . becasue it was very fun, definately a teachable moment . . . coupled with extensive reading . . . . and, soon we'll ALL be looking for inside activities, right???