BloggingDangerously

Clue...

The company I work for was acquired by another company some time ago and we're in the process of merging.  What this means is that some people are doing two jobs and some people are doing none depending on their sense of responsibiltiy and I'd like to think you know me well enough to guess which one is me.

Anyway, work has been insane lately and today I worked through my vacation day, through my running time and through most of the prep time for dinner.  Unfortunately I forgot to tell my husband to start dinner and so I arrived in the kitchen at quarter to 6 to start a recipe that takes 90 minutes.

Oops.

Thank goodness it's winter break in Boston.

I started the recipe and then my husband walked into the kitchen.  Realizing that I was completely stressed out he said, "You go work out, I'll make dinner."

I raced upstairs and changed - then hit the elliptical for a half hour while he made dinner.

We sat down to dinner late but had a great meal.  The enchiladas were fantastic and the kids are so relaxed and happy.

After dinner we went upstairs and tried to get everyone ready for bed.  It was like herding cats.

Finally the boys were in bed and the girls were walking down the hall toward their room with my husband behind them.  My 6yo daughter ripped a huge fart as she passed by the boys room.

Everyone went dead silent.   Without missing a beat, she glanced back over her shoulder toward her brothers and father and said, "The butler did it."

At which point my entire family fell down laughing.

I have a bad feeling that the butler will be blamed for a good deal more gaseous anomalies in the future...

 

Things My Grandma Taught Me...

My grandmother was a bit of a snob.  

Unfortunately she never rose to the level of her own snobbishness and had to settle for looking down her nose at people she would have preferred never to have associated with in the first place.

One of these people was "Aunt Alice."  Aunt Alice was my grandmother's best friend even though Alice's favorite thing to do was talk about her "Harvard years" and my grandmother's favorite thing to do was to follow along behind telling people that the only time Alice had ever gone to Harvard was once when she took the 64 bus instead of the 67 and got lost in Cambridge.

I remember one summer when we lived with my grandparents at their beach house - the same one I talk about owning now.  (Note: It is more fun to be the child in someone else's beach house than it is to be 1/3 owner of your own.)

Anyway, we spent the summer with my grandparents and my grandmother would often tell us stories and regale us with lines from the plays she was in when she was young and beautiful and before the war came and ruined it all. 

One day we heard that Aunt Alice was to come and my grandmother made us get dressed up (at the beach, even!) and promise to be on our best behavior.

When Alice arrived we sat for lunch and made pleasant small talk.

I was about 10 and my siblings were 8 and 7.

After lunch, my grandmother turned to us and, preparing to show off, said, "Children, why don't you recite for Aunt Alice the poem I taught you the other day?"

Now, 30 years later, I remember the poem as if it were my name:

Learn little maiden, before you grow old.

Learning is better than silver or gold.

Silver and gold may tarnish away,

But a good education will never decay!

 

But at the time, these words escaped me.

And then suddenly it came to me!  Just the day before my grandmother was telling us about a poem she had learned as a child!  And wanting to be a good granddaughter and make my grandmother proud the words came tumbling out of me before I realized that they may have NOT been the ones my grandmother was so proud of...

For in my best Boston accent I recited:

Artha Partha Laid a Fartha

and Blew the House Far Apartha!

I could tell by the look on my grandmother's face that something had gone terribly wrong but Aunt Alice looked as pleased as punch.  And so my siblings and I scampered off to the beach and my grandmother never asked us to recite poetry again!

The Wayward Goldfish...

My youngest is five so we've been off the Goldfish thing for a while but recently got back into it with the discovery of "Flavor Burst" goldfish.  They're basically regular goldfish dipped in cheddar powder but they're pretty good and the kids like to take them to school for snack.

Last week at dinner one night my son was talking with his mouth full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." I admonished.

He swallowed, put more food into his mouth and started talking again.

"Stop talking." I said and then, wanting to demonstrate the wisdom of exactly WHY you shouldn't talk with your mouth full I continued, "I'll tell you a story." I said.  A hush fell over the table as all four children turned toward me with RAPT attention for the story.  My husband waited as well.

"Yesterday," I began, "I needed a snack so I came downstairs and got some goldfish.  But while I was EATING the goldfish, I burped and a goldfish popped out."

Ok, that's what I MEANT to say and that's what ACTUALLY HAPPENED.  But I was tired and it was late so what I actually said was:

"While I was eating the goldfish, I FARTED and a goldfish popped out."

Well when the four upturned faces heard this you CANNOT POSSIBLY IMAGINE the hilarity that ensued with all of them laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces as they struggled for breath and fell out of their chairs!

And then my the son that started it all said, "I can't wait to tell the boys on the bus THAT story."

At which point my gallant husband, who had almost choked on his dinner from laughing so hard rushed to my defense and said, "YOU NEVER TELL ANYONE THAT STORY."

"Unless," I interjected, "You tell them that it was a LIVE GOLDFISH."

 

What Does He Think I Am?

Saturday morning my 8yo son was invited to a birthday party at a movie theater in a neighboring town.  I dropped him off and then raced back to "our" grocery store to pick up groceries for the week.  (I can't shop at a foreign grocery store - I get lost in the aisles.)

I noticed that beef was on sale so I bought ten pounds of eye of the round and enough carrots and potatoes to turn it into beef stew.  But my puritanical grocery store doesn't sell alcohol so I couldn't pick up any red wine for the stew.

I was running short on time so I headed back to the movie theater to pick up my son.  He grabbed his goodie bag and we walked over to that town's grocery store - which is much more progressive - and bought a bottle of pinot noir.

Did I mention that my son was 8?  Because even though he was with me while we were in the store, I was pretty sure he really wasn't paying any attention to what I was buying.

Apparently I was wrong, because as we got back into the car he leaned forward into the front seat and said, "Now don't drink that until we get home."

My Son's Eyes

My son's eyes have been different shades of brown since he was born.  They were so unusual that I kept waiting for them to "change."  

But they never did.

And then my friend's daughter had retinoblastoma and I panicked that my son had cancer.  The doctor assured me that he was fine.

And now he's nine and I just think that they are beautiful.