So naiive!

Scott's monster truck sped up and ordered Rapunzel to "get to work and do your chores!".  It was in his growling tough-man voice.  Rapunzel refused, then Cara explained with this classic:

"Scott...once you get married and become a Mommy and Daddy you don't have to do any more chores!"


Rapunzel had had yet another wedding this morning.

If she only knew...if she only knew...

Becoming a Mommy is when the REAL work begins!

Mommy's Little 'Helper'

by Hannah, inspired by real life, of course!

I think I'll help out my Mommy today.
I won't play around, I'll just help her all day.

Here's what I'll do first to show her I care.
I'll put this grape jelly all over my hair.

My Mommy loves when I stand on the table.
I'll drink from these cups; I know I am able.

These crayons are so pretty just lying around.
I'll use them to color the wall and the ground.

This paper goes in the potty...pull out a bit more...
Uh-oh, she's coming...dump it here on the floor.

These blocks are much nicer spread out in Mom's room.
These petals smell nice when they're picked off the bloom.

Hmmm...there's something smelly coming up from somewhere.
It feels kind of squishy on my back, but I don't care.

I don't think I'll trouble my Mom for a snack.
I'll grab my own from the trash, and then put it right back.

Poor Mommy's so tired and smelly today!
I bet she's glad I could help her instead of play.

Now for the real pro...

I've previously posted at least one of my Polack exploits.  Although I exercise my clumsiness and irrationality on a regular basis, my skills are nothing when you compare them to my Dad's.  He's 100% Polack, and boy does it show!  Now, just so you know, clumsiness is not the only symptom, er, skill we Polacks have.  There's also this strange sort of jimmy-rigging, make it work, survival mentality, too, and this is what gives us a clever edge...until we trip and fall flat on our faces, that is.

Anyway, I'll mention this exploit of my Dad's, because I'm secretly very proud of it.

For those of you who don't know, my Dad had lung cancer and had most of one lung removed.  The rest of it's full of asbestos damage, courtesy of an active working/military life.  He is on regular nebulizer treatments to keep himself breathing, which can be really inconvenient when you have to come see your daughter in Ohio ten hours away.  Here's what he did...he somehow rigged up an electrical outlet which connected to his lighter.  That way, he could run his nebulizer machine in the car while he was driving.  Can't you just picture him, trucking down the highway with his nebulizer pipe in his mouth, condensation clouding up the cab?  That just kills me!  Why settle for what a normal person would do...stopping and plugging in for a few minutes at a time?  If you're going to waste your time keeping yourself breathing, you might as well do it as you drive down the road.

I drove his truck the day after he showed up...something I love to do because it has a clutch.  (I miss my clutch car!)  It was awfully handy to have an outlet while I was out, just in case I needed to curl my hair at a stop light or something.

Motivation for today...

Here's a quote by a guy who really knew how to sacrifice for his country!

"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."

Sir Winston Churchill

That's a great reminder for us parents!  So much of love is giving to others!

Bearded Elegance

I'm pretty used to beards...not on myself, of course, but on my loved ones.  My hubby is growing a goatee, a move initiated by Hurricane Allison's confiscation of his razor's charger cord.  My Dad has always had a beard since I can remember.  The weirdest part of him having chemo was losing his facial hair.  I don't know if I would have recognized him walking by on the street.  Of course if he had driven by with his Casey's coffee cup on top of his car, I would have known him right away, but that's beside the point.

Anyway...this labored introduction is meant to bring about the comment that I just read of an interesting reader's poll at Smithsonian.com.  I, thanks to my bearded Pops, am a faithful subscriber to Smithsonian magazine where they cover all manner of interesting things.  The poll had eight rebs and/or yanks to vote on according to who had the most likeable beard hair.  Who comes up with this stuff?  Isn't the Smithsonian supposed to be really intelligent and staid?  Hmmm...Maybe I could get a job as a Smithsonian blogger...

I've always been fascinated by the uniqueness of the facial hair during the Civil War.  You can almost always place the soldiers in the correct era by that alone, and I should know, because I've seen Ken Burns's The Civil War multi-volume documentary not one, but two times.

Here are the pictures of the nominees.  I've pared the list down to the six most magnificent and striking candidates.  They also had free pictures to use on Wikipedia, an added benefit. Cast your vote below for the beard hair that makes the biggest impression on you...I'll announce the winner in a week or so and do a brief biography, with the help of my historical buff hubby. (I thought about putting a comma between those modifiers, but didn't want to get too seedy.)  And if you're rolling your eyes right now and thinking that I'm just plain weird, remember that this was the Smithsonian's idea first, not mine.

All disclaimers covered, we'll get to the nominees.

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER!!!!

Nominee #1:

George Crook
Quite Impressive

Nominee #2:

Adelbert Ames
A sophisticated way to hide an incisor gap.

Nominee #3:

Alpheus Williams
A bird lover's built in perch.

Nominee #4:

Ambrose Burnside
He'd have been a better barber...
Got a great story about his bridge at Antietam, but I won't tell, in order to protect the guilty...you know who you are!!!

Nominee #5:

Christopher C. Augur
Whiskers of wispiness...

And finally, Nominee #6:

J.E.B. Stuart
I'm sure there is a pistol hidden in there somewhere.

Add your vote to the comment section, I'll tally and post the results next week along with a bio...really, this is educational!

Keepin' It Real, part 4

I am not sure my scale can survive-ah
Another dose of anything Godiva.

...but I'm willing to give it a shot!

A Girl After My Own Heart...

We've begun studying a little bit of geography in our social studies time recently.  Today we finished up talking about Mexico.  Since I was a little too cheapie to purchase the kids each their own book to color in, we've been doing some drawings after looking at the pictures.  Today they were drawing a pinata (no, Spanish doctorate brother, I can't figure out how to put the symbol over the n, but I do know that it's missing at least!).

Cara's drawing, as usual is very detailed and colorful.  She really loves to draw and makes simple drawings really come to life and have a story (unlike her minimalist brother who draws a few strokes in black and calls it a day).  She drew a lovely pinata with her arms and hands swinging a large bat.  Small circles of brown were spewing forth from the damaged pinata.  I was a little puzzled why she didn't color the candy brightly, since she's a rainbow-colored type of girl.  I asked her about it.

She looked at me and smiled a demure little smirk.  "Mom," she said, "That's my pinata.  It's full of all chocolate of course."

Of course.  I really should have known...after all, the pinata of my dreams is also full of chocolate.  That's what is known as generational sin, I guess!