My kids have had this toy keyboard for EVER and for as long as they’ve had it, I’ve been racking my brains trying to remember what this one song is. Nobody else has any idea what it is either and then one day I had this brainstorm to record it with my phone and put it on the internet because the internet knows all.
So without further ado, I give you “The Song Which May Never Be Identified” and I challenge you to name that tune!
When my daughter was old enough to eat real food, I was very conscientious of what I fed her. I avoided giving her any kind of junk food or overly sugary stuff and encouraged fruits and whole grains and all that. I could hardly even bear for her to eat things that weren’t organic.
*cue record scratch sound effect*
Fast forward to 5th grade and the addition of a sibling, now age 6…
I always pack them healthy lunches but on the not-so-rare occasions when I am stupid enough to bring a bag of Cheetos or Dortios or Oreos into the house, they are like junk food truffle pigs.
They race in the door from school, wash their hands (possibly the ONLY thing they do without having to be asked ten times) and head straight for the kitchen to start rooting around for whatever crap food may be around.
Well, I’ve been busy this week and haven’t gone to the grocery store and it seems our junk food supply has run dry so yesterday, they had to share *gasp* a snack sized bag of Doritos while totally taunting each other (Haha! I got more than you! No, I got more than you! Shut up! Mommmmm! Sissy told me to shut up!) and when those ran out, the complaining started about the lack of “good” stuff to eat.
Of course there is “good” stuff to eat, I tell my daughter. There are clementines and apples and pineapple and Baby Bel cheese and… But to no avail, the complaining continues.
Me to daughter: Jeez…you’re like an addict. Is that all you think about all day long—coming home and eating junk food?
Smartass Daughter to me: Yep!
Me: *dismayed look*
Me to Son: What about you, buddy?
Son to Me: Well…sometimes I also think about hot dogs and turkey and pesto sandwiches
OMG SO CUTE!
I forget all about the junk food ban I was considering…
My super picky eater thinks about my turkey and pesto sandwiches!!!
That’s kind of a WIN, right?!
When you buy cheap towels? You GET cheap towels—cheap towels that will FOREVER have the lint of other things stuck to them and a lot of stupid strings hanging off of them and you will be embarrassed when you accidentally hand one to a guest since they really should have been put in the crappy towels section of the linen closet with all the other crap towels that are best suited for drying the bathroom floor when your six year old invariably leaves an inch of water after his bath or cleaning up the gross liquid that always surrounds a pile of cat barf.
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Can you believe I’ve never done a vlog before? This is my first one EVER, which is both hilarious and hypocritical because I’ve stated publicly, (well, on Twitter) that I tend to not like vlogs. But the appeal of video, I’ve discovered, is that one can just talk which, on some days, is a lot easier than trying to write. And if you listen to tech pundits…it’s the wave of the future!
THE FUTURE, DAMMIT!
The downside, however, is that you have to be, at a minimum, clean. Clean, as in, your hair isn’t three days dirty and you got the crusty things out of your eyes first, which you will be pleased to know, I did…ALL FOR YOU, dear reader.
I apologize in advance about it being long-ish. The Youtube editor was suddenly unavailable so I stopped trying to edit it. Oh and my text is cut off on the edges which makes it kind of unreadable and stupid-looking *angry eyebrows!!!*
It’s also from 4 days ago so there’s some discussion of Valentine’s Day, which is really dumb now that it’s over but whatever. It is what it is.
Be gentle with me :)
Aside from wanting to be involved in my daughter, N’s, life (because she’s 11 and I know my opportunities will soon evaporate), I also find being around the groups of young girls in her scout troop and cheer squad absolutely fascinating. They’re such strange creatures and the ever-shifting group dynamics are a better study in human behavior than any of the sociology courses I ever took in college.
So the other day, we were walking a long distance back to our cars after an overnight Girl Scout camping trip.
I knew this day would come eventually but I never dreamed it would be so heart-wrenching.
You see, my daughter has been dropping hints about her wavering belief in Santa Claus for a several months now. Her questions about the existence of Santa, however, always came when my six year old was nearby so I tended to hedge a lot.
“Let’s talk about this later”
“Can we have this chat another time?”
I didn’t want to lie to her any more than I already have with the whole Santa myth but I also didn’t want to spoil it for my son, who is already fully indoctrinated into the Santa Claus Believers Club.
I figured if she asked me when we were alone, I could be honest with her. But she never did.
And I would assume she’d forgotten about it and exhale, thinking I’d dodged that particular bullet one more time.
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