Hold me closer, Tony Danza

I have a confession to make....

I am tragically uncool.

I am sure this comes as a surprise to no-one.

I have strived for at least a modicum of cool-ness in my life, but alas, I keep falling short.

I can't even blame it on Michael Buble, as much as I wanted to. No, it goes back further than that. There have been songs with lyrics no-one can understand (see: Louie, Louie), and there have been songs with lyrics that are mis-understood (see: Tiny Dancer). In fact, there is a website dedicated to the topic: http://www.kissthisguy.com/

I tee-totally butchered one line from a song....for well over a decade. Luckily, I never sang the mangled lyric in front of anyone, and until now, I have never spoken of it. I am baring my soul in the hopes that it will prevent y'all from making a similar mistake with a different song. I am quite certain that I am the only person on the face of the planet to hear what I thought I did. Even as I sang the words, I knew they sounded odd.

So, here goes.... the song? Anthrax's "Bring the Noise."

The proper lyrics:

Bass!
How low can you go?
Death row, what a brother knows 

What I sang:

Bass!
How low can you go?
Death row, water buffalo

Yup. I honest to God thought they said "water buffalo."

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

Water.buffalo.

Yup. That's pretty bad.

I have come to the conclusion that being cool is over-rated. It's very easy to come to that conclusion when you realize that you will never be cool. Especially when you think Anthrax is singing about water buffalo.

Bring the noise, indeed.

The horror of it all

I believe my love of music has been pretty well documented. I am by no means an expert, but I do know what I like, and it's a fairly eclectic catalog.

I also know what I don't like (see: AC/DC). There are singers that I don't listen to, and I will, in fact, turn the station if I hear them on the radio (Josh Groban is at the top of that list). When the radio stations start playing Christmas Music, I know it will be a Josh Groban-athon, and that just about turns my stomach (oh, and on that note - I'm so punny- the radio stations should be switching to 24 hour Christmas music in two weeks. Yippee!).

Usually, I can tell after one or two songs that I am not going to like an artist. So here's my conundrum...I had heard a song on the radio several times, and I really liked it. I never managed to catch the name of the artist, and honestly, by the time I got home, I had forgotten the lyrics of the song, or even that I wanted to find out who sang it. It was one of those kinds of songs.

Fun, catchy, light....but totally forgettable (as Jason would point out, that summarizes 99.9% of the 80's music I love). 

You have to imagine my shock and dismay when I got into the car, and it came on the radio. The DJ announced the artist, and it was Michael Buble. Seriously? I have avoided getting sucked into the Clay Aiken/Josh Groban/Adult Contemporary Singer du jour vortex for goodness sake, and I now find myself singing along to Michael Flippin' Buble.

How far the mighty has fallen.

Hmmmm....I wonder if *he* has a Christmas album out....

When 2+2=20

Math is not my strong suit by any means, but even I know that 20 > 2.

Now, my four indians obviously outnumber Jason and I, but since Jason & I have two hands,  4 = 4. We may be outnumbered, but we still have enough hands to cover zone defense when needed.

It was announced on the Today Show this morning that the Duggar Family is expecting their 20th child. If you live under a rock and don't know who the family is, they  have a tv show on TLC. Unlike the Gosselin Family (Jon & Kate + 8), the Duggars are making babies the old fashioned way, and obviously, they are pretty darn good at it. Another difference is that the tv show is not the Duggar's sole means of support. For goodness sake, they even built the house they are living in themselves!

Paige is a huge fan of the show, so I confess that I know more about the Duggars than I really needed or wanted to. And of course, I have opinions on the family. LOTS of them.

#1. They are bat guano crazy. I love babies. I do. You put me in a room with a baby, and I will find a way to hold the baby, and keep holding the baby and not share. However, if I had a baby every 18 months for 20+ years, I would be so sleep deprived, that I would end up with 20 kids...and a padded room in the loony bin. This mama needs sleep.

#2. The irony is not lost on me. The family is very conservative, and they don't allow kids to watch tv, but the kids are ON tv. The older kids (and JimBob &Michelle) also have iPhones.

#3. The doctors who haven't told her to quit having babies should be strung up. I don't care what your religious views are, there comes a point when the mother's health & well-being must come first.

#4. There is not enough time in the day. I have four children. There are days when I want a clone just for driving to get the kids where they need to be. And laundry? I do five loads a day usually. I cannot even begin to fathom the amounts of laundry that 20 kids generate. Even with the extra washers & dryers the Duggars have, it must take freakin' for-EVAH to get it done.

#5. Better them than me. I hope that Michelle has a totally uneventful and smooth pregnancy and that baby #20 is a healthy little bundle of joy...oh wait, they already have a child named Joy...ummm....bundle of joviality. Is that a word? Well, it is now, and I guess it's also a contender for the 20th "J" name they have to come up with.

Beggars

JoJo is a world class beggar. At dinner time, she sits next to me, and if I don't toss her a treat, she scoots closer and closer to me until she is close enough to head butt me. If that fails, she moves around the table to the kids and does the same thing. 

Last night, Paige gave JoJo some scraps. After dinner was finished, JoJo wanted to go outside to stalk our neighbor. When she started to bark, I called her to come inside. I know you will be shocked to hear this, but she didn't listen to me.

Cameron stood up, went to the door, and yelled, "JoJo! Steak!"

Wouldn't you know it, the dog stopped dead in her tracks, stopped barking and came running into the house looking for steak.

After we stopped howling with laughter, Jason gave her a piece.

I swear, she looked positively smug.

Steak obviously tastes better than my shoes.

Party of Five

JP is now (mostly) moved into his apartment at school. There were a couple of things that couldn't fit into his truck (that had he let Jason or I help him move wouldn't be sitting in the middle of his room here), but other than the mess he left behind, he is no longer a full time resident of this house.

sigh

Only five dishes were placed on the table last night for dinner.

double sigh

While I was wrapping my brain around all this, evidently the wheels were also turning in Cameron's pea brain. As Jason & I were lying in bed last night, we heard crashes and scuffling above our head.

I started laughing because I knew that Cameron was trying to make the bed so he could sleep in JP's now (mostly) empty room. Cameron has been waiting for this day for years. As much as he will miss his brother, he has been drooling with anticipation over having his own room.

I've tried to explain that JP will return for weekends, Christmas Break and summers. Cameron's reply? "He can sleep on the couch." We'll see how that goes over with son #1.

After JP left yesterday, I went into his room. I was going to throw a pity party for one, but after looking at the carnage left behind from his packing, all I could do was take a picture, and start making a mental list of things to tell him about housekeeping.

So, here's the list so far:

1. You have a hamper. Use it.
2. Don't leave wet stuff on the floor.
3. Change your sheets. Weekly would be awesome.
4. That stick with the bristles on the bottom is a broom. It is useful for cleaning up messes.
5. If something spills, wipe it up right away.
6. Clean the bathroom. Weekly would be super awesome. (also, see #5)
7. Science experiments can grow in the refrigerator (again, see #5)
8. Doors have locks. Use them.
9. Locks on doors need keys. Don't lose them.
10. Call/text/Facebook your parents even when you don't need anything
11. Eat a vegetable once in a while. French fries with ketchup do not count.
12. There is no laundry fairy at college. Don't overload the washer, and use cold water to wash your stuff. I know you won't separate lights from darks, and you don't want a pink wardrobe.
13. Check your snail mail. You never know what might be in there.
14. Saying "thank you" for snail mail pretty much ensures you will continue to get it.
15. Visits home ensure care packages being sent back with you.

My Uterus is not a homing device...or my almost adventure as a Charlie's Angel

As a mom and wife, I am expected to know where EVERY possession of every member of the household can be found. Usually, I am pretty good at it. My standard responses to the wail, "where is my xyz?!?!" (in no particular order) are:

1. in your bedroom
2. on your floor
3. in the washer
4. in the dryer
5. in the car
6. Honestly, the last time *I* wore/used/stumbled over it in the middle of the floor your xyz. I put it back. How am *I* supposed to know where *YOUR* stuff is?!?!?!?

Electronics in this house have been the bane of my existence. No, I haven't seen your iPod/cell phone/ear buds/iPod charger/Game Boy/XBox Controller/Double A batteries anywhere!

Last month, I was playing Bunco with the girls when my cell phone rang. The number on caller id popped up as Son #2's phone, so I answered it. It was NOT Son #2 on the other end. The phone had fallen out of his pocket at the Carnival, and it had been found by a stranger who scrolled through the contacts until he got to "Mom." (Let me point out that "DAD" comes before Mom alphabetically speaking, but I was the one who got the call.)

Having never experienced something like this before, I agreed to meet said stranger under the Ferris Wheel. After I hung up, it occurred to me that said stranger could in fact be a homicidal mass axe murderer.

Well, shoot.

I had to get the cell phone back. So, I called Jason, who was at the Carnival with Paige watching the fireworks. He didn't hear his phone. By the time that he did, he was stuck in traffic leaving the fireworks.

So, I had no choice but to go to the Ferris Wheel...and hopefully not get murdered.

Meanwhile, the Bunco Babes are listening to/watching all this transpire. Two Bunco Babes offer to ride with me up to the Carnival to keep me safe. Well, seeing as how I am the biggest chicken this side of the Mississippi, I took them up on their offer. There is strength in numbers, even if one of your sidekicks barely comes up to your chin.

We pull up to the Carnival, park the car, and my phone rings. Son #2's number pops up on caller id again. I answer, and it is actually Son #2. Seems that he finally realized he had no phone. He met up with a Scout Mom who called his phone, and they met the stranger (who obviously was no homicidal axe wielding maniac) and got the phone back.

So much for the three of us getting to be Charlie's Angels.

Maybe next year, though....

I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors...

....but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor. (Depeche Mode)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. There was some sort of cosmic rift, and I was given my sister's child.

Paige looks like my sister, acts like my sister, and seems to be eerily shadowing my sister's actions as a child. I've lived through this once already; I am getting much too old to live through it again.

Flashback a couple decades ago: Heather got in trouble, and she got sent to her room. (While this was not an uncommon occurrence in our household, something was different this night.) She was in her room having a meltdown of biblical proportions when IT happened. For whatever reason, she threw herself on her bed and kicked her bedroom window. Hard.

I honestly don't exactly know what happened next, but I do know there was a lot of yelling involved.

Fast forward to yesterday: Paige was playing (quite nicely) in her room with her cousins. All of a sudden, I heard a crash, and a lot of yelling.

It seems the kids were playing catch with stuffed animals, and Paige decided to throw a flip-flop instead. She hit the window. There was much yelling (on my part) and much crying (on her part).

So now there's a hole in her window. Believe it or not, it's beyond Jason's Mr. Fix-It capabilities. I called a repairman, and he's already been out to assess the damage.

It's fixable.

No-one got cut to ribbons.

It could have been worse.

At least Paige didn't do it on purpose.