Thursday, December 6, 2007

You May Be Right, I May Be Crazy...


I hope you all appreciated the nice LONG crisp but not too crisp autumn I gave you. Yep, it was all my fault. I purposely did not schedule any cleaning out of the garden into my schedule, since it was fall and would be yucky weather. And all those nice balmy afternoons when I didn't take advantage and weed, or even do something fun outdoors with my kids? It was for the rest of you, so I wouldn't bring on the snow clouds. I enjoyed the weather immensely even if I didn't take advantage of it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to shovel snow off the weeds so I can pull them.


I don't know what's wrong with me! I'm afraid to admit it. I think, no I know, no, I must just be remembering wrong, but I think I was actually glad to see the snow on Saturday. It was so beautiful. It took so long to get here! And that is so weird, like what would I want it to get here for? See what I mean? I'm turning into a Utahn. I actually care about this state getting enough moisture, because I plan to stay in it? Well, not forever. It just would be pointless to torture myself by hoping to leave anytime soon. Hey, maybe it's just because the pressure is finally off on weeding the garden. Yeah, that must be it...Because a real Utahn wouldn't let her food supply lapse like that either.


Uh, it's O.K. if it's December 1 and I haven't done a thing about Christmas yet right? I mean, there's no way it could actually sneak up on me before I'm ready. It will just have to wait for me if I'm not ready on time. Sure, we could maybe just pretend December 26 is the 25th and go shopping for Christmas. We'll tell the kids Santa died; they'll get over it. I suppose it doesn't matter if it's New Years Day before we get the Christmas tree up. Maybe the baking will just sort of happen, just sort of pop out of the oven. Maybe we could just be J.W.'s for a month...


My borders are secure. I am the border police. No ice or snow will cross over this threshold of mine into the confines of my living quarters. No, it is impossible. No little imp will drag 1' x 4' chunks of ice into my house this year and hide them under a towel. I'm just too threatening. I'm just too vigilant. Plus my big yells and screams have always been such deterrents to undesired behaviors, haven't ya noticed? What ARE those puddles? Hmmm, no, real snowmen are bigger than that. And they don't have forks for arms.


The cops are following me. I don't know why. Maybe my car is identical to some meth lab owners. Maybe the FBI heard me say that Krispy Kreme's is a capitalist plot and they're investigating me. Maybe they keep thinking they're seeing a car moving without a driver. I don't know, all I know is that it is hard to drive in peace when they make U-ies and start trailing you across town. They even tagged off from one to another one day. But I lost them on the freeway. They're out to get me but they never will, hee hee ha ha!


Hugo Chavez that is... but now thanks to him, we can all have a ring tone on our phone of the king of Spain saying "Por que no te callas? (Why won't you shut up?) So appropriate. Maybe the king should get royalties?


Last week the Chilean Planning Minister Clarisa Hardy showed up at an official ceremony wearing one black shoe and one pink shoe. She apparently had to catch a flight out at an early morning hour and slipped on her shoes in the dark, not realizing her error until she arrived at her destination. At least they were two like pairs. I could easily have showed up in a slipper and a boot, out of desperation to cover my feet. Just this week on 3 separate occasions my offspring have had to wear something unusual like sandals in the snow, because a shoe was missing. here's a hint from Heloise, if you want to find a lost shoe, put out a reward. Those same offspring of yours who can't see a rattler shake it's tail 2" from their face and give up looking for anything after 2.3 seconds of "intense" searching, and fall into an exhausted heap wailing for help, will search till they find your lost cause, all for a piece of candy or a coin. And where were the shoes? Stuck in the slats that hold up the matress that goes on the top bunk of the bunk bed.


Just for fun, I thought I would call my family names, er, I mean give them pseudonyms instead of initials so that when I actually start posting to my Spanish site, we will be in sync. So, J. (the husband) has the oh so original name of Papi. My daughter E. is the alter ego Enigma. G. is also Gigio. C. is also Carino, and the twins in birth order, but in English just to confuse all are Thing 1 and Thing 2. When I'm lazy they will all have initials again. They may take on other names at times, like Jumanji, Houdini, Diablo and the like. Good luck figuring out who's who. Oh, and I'm just the little cow, la vaquita.


My kids have telekinetic powers. And they're getting stronger. How else can you explain this? (The photo is forthcoming...technical difficulties called I lost the fork!)
Or the one Christmas candy I got today sneaking out from it's hiding place 3 times since I started writing this? Why else are there nearly empty salad dressing containers under my couch and butter under another? And how did that blue glitter glue get onto the bench by the door all by itself?

Thing 1 has an obsession with a lost brother of his who was a girl. She grew up and went away on a train. Big frown and teary eyes. (Cutest frown on the planet) Sorry I can’t help… next I overhear him talking to Thing 2 about it. Thing 2’s reply. Oh, that’s bad. My brother got shot. I have a new brother! He grew up! It’s mommy! OK, I know this isn’t an Oedipus Complex, but what kind of complex is it?


The only logical explanation for all the things I forget. Like driving over to an IEP, walking right past big signs and the pickup stand for items ordered at the last fundraiser that I wrote down on my calendar to pick up, through the IEP and back past all that, only to get home and get a call reminding me to come pick the items up before the hour is up. And forgetting that I put a wet boot on the couch downstairs. What? I remember putting it on the heat register in the living room upstairs to dry out and it just disappears. No one can explain it’s disappearance. Until Enigma says, “You put it on the couch downstairs, don’t you remember? I asked you why you were putting it there.” She goes downstairs and comes up with boot in hand. Uh, Gaslight? Or dementia?


What is it with the action hero strung up with yarn from one end of the things’ room to the other so I can try to remember not to trip over it? And they have now taped their door shut with duct tape twice, masking tape once, and a whole roll of scotch tape disappeared to various and sundry projects of theirs. Too bad I won’t have any to wrap the presents with. And the straw sculptures are multiplying like rabbits.


Why is Gigio compelled to make farty “motorcycle noises” and screeches incessantly day and night? It’s like some form of Chinese torture. Soon we will not be able to control our collective compulsion to put a sock in it.


Friday I got the honors of taking Gigio and Carino to their school Christmas party. I figured there would be enough chaos without bringing my whole family there. When we got home we found out that Thing 2 microwaved the juice and then dropped it on his foot, bruising and burning it. He didn’t make any noise. Enigma and Papi only found out because the honest criminal ratted on him. One day he is really going to do something big to himself and we won’t even know. (paranoia). Thing 1 came crying to me one day and told me that Thing 2 “broke his heart” by kicking him in the stomach. Thing 2 has his own little confusion going on. We have a computer game called Bookworm Adventure. He comes to me one day and tells me he wants to play the “Book of Wormon”. That, my friends, is about how the last week has gone. And, in truth, I am not crazy, It’s been clinically proven but that’s another post.


Anne Bradshaw said...

Whoa! That's quite a blog. Love the Book of Wormon ending :-)

Now the snow is melting, I can see the broccoli plants I forgot to dig out because they were still producing through the Indian Summer. Wonder what will happen if I leave them until next Spring . . .

Shellie said...

If you let some go to seed, you will get broccoli plants!

carrie & troy keiser said...

Oh this is the BEST blog I've read in a long time! thanks!:D

suburbancorrespondent said...

Book of Wormon! That's good. Watch out - that Bookworm game can be addictive - I had to make myself quit cold turkey.

Anonymous said...

Very fun writing, Shellie! Thanks for stopping by and commenting on my blog. Nice to meet you!

Your days sound about like mine. Only your kids are even closer together in age. (I have two sets of almost-fake-twins, 11.5 mos apart and 17 mos apart, although by 17 mos it almost doesn't count anymore, right?)

Good luck on your September out-of-debt goal!


Shellie said...

Oh, I need the luck. Things are taking a nosedive right now. BUt, chin up, right? I think 17 mo apart counts still for almost twins.

Shellie said...

Shoot, I was going to comment on the bookworm comment too. It is so addictive. I like the original myself, but the boys like the adventure since there's a lot of whacking. I'm such a good mom, exposing them to violence to get them to learn to spell. Oh well.

Karen said...

I never do my weeding this late in the year. I figure what's the use? Things will rot and mulch over winter and I can start fresh next spring. It's way easier.

I love the dignitary with mismatched shoes! And the "car driving by itself." As someone who was lucky to get to 5.0' I can completely realize this.

I love the snowman. He just wanted to keep warm. It's cold out there.