How About Some Shorter Days


This has been a vacation week full of laughter and tears (goodbye routine!). We’ve been mending bodies that are trying desperately to stay healthy, enjoying family time in another state, and playing games that require a doctorate in astrophysics to understand.

It’s been fun.

Wouldn’t you agree, Sweetman?


I think he went on a long quick Starbucks run.

Desperate times…

In addition to all of the fun and games, we’ve had a few new interesting conversations, too.

“I’m not gonna teacher you any more daddy.”, promised Sweetgirl.

“What’s that now?”, he asked.

“Teacher you! You KNOW, Daddy, drive you crazy.”, she explained.

“Ah, you mean torture me?”

“Yeah, that word.”

So she says…

And then, Sweetboy… He who is obsessed with All Things Maps and All Things Countries, presented us with this little list of Countries that interest him. Some, he’d like to visit.  Some, he hopes never to have to.


Beware the Puffer Fish!

As of press time, he informed me there are new ones he’d like to add.  And I’m guessing poor Papua New Guinea will be on the left; for, as we talked last night, he made sure to tell us that they wear scary looking masks there.

And, with that pertinent information, I know you are waiting on the edge of your seats for the newest additions. I can only imagine that you are especially eager to find out which column each additional country will land in.

He says they will be forthcoming.

Oh children… how I love you and treasure this time with you. And, to be quite honest, I’d prefer some shorter days and longer years, please.

Yes indeedy.

Weekend Review

Riveting name for a blog post, I know.  Please, try to contain your excitement.

And, if you are still here, Bless Your Heart.

I kicked off the weekend by killing The Largest Fly I have ever had the displeasure of meeting in an area enclosed by walls.  I informed my Facebook friends that I almost felt the need to deliver a eulogy for the dad-gum thing.  I didn’t , of course, because then you’d have bigger concerns than what else I was going to write in my weekend review.  Concerns that centered around thoughts like “Why am I reading this blog again?”.  Followed closely, I can only imagine, by thoughts like “Does her husband realize the extent of The Crazy rattling around in there?”. He does. Oh, how he does.


Things took a decidedly more upbeat turn when Sweetman and I headed out for date night. Finally.

My man and I love Star Trek. Okay, I have to back that train right up.  So, here’s how this really breaks down. Sweetman is a Trekkie.  And my father, Captain Ahab, loved him some Star Trek, too.  I have fond and vivid memories of watching Jim (I really can’t call him James – he’s far too wild for that!) Tiberius Kirk fight for civilizations that knew nothing of the final frontier of space.  I also decided early on that the Tribbles were awfully cute.  But, I digress.

When Sweetman and I were dating, he re-introduced me to the love of all things Star Trek.  I really hope you get where this is going, because I fear I’m going to end up being flagged as one of those wack-a-doodle Star Trek fanatics if I have to continue on with all the ‘splainin.

We went to see the “new” Star Trek movie. And I got to grab that husband of mine’s arm a few times, and practically jump into his lap.  I consider that a WIN for date night, don’t you? Plus, HELLO, popcorn for dinner.  Total. Win.

We also, just so you know how NORMAL we really are, went out for an appetizer and a drink afterwards.  Now, we were pretty deep in the middle of our Discussin’ when the entire restaurant exploded in an uproar of clapping and hootin’ and hollerin’.  It turns out that the Boston Bruins won game four, in the Hockey Playoffs.  We live in the midst of Bruins Country, people. However, we were simply too in love and in the moment to notice the TV screens.

No, no.  Actually, we were deeply in love with the taste of these illegally good “Sirloin Spring Rolls” we were eating.  That’s the way we roll.  I just wanted to keep it real for ya.

Sweetgirl and I rounded out our weekend with something that I unexpectedly enjoyed.

My sweet five-year old was invited to go to a “Fashion Party”. At Claire’s.  In the mall.  On Sunday morning.  For a five-year old.


I’d like to be able to say that I was able to keep up My Indignation until we walked back into the house two hours later.

Alas, I cannot.

Did you know, DID YOU KNOW, that they have leg warmers and shredded foot-less tights and finger-less gloves (way cuter than I remember them from back in the 80’s) there?  And, AND, they had so many different kinds of sunglasses, that at one point, one of the other moms suggested I go ahead and put down my purse and join in the dressing up.  I was this many shades of tempted to do just that.  But, I held my inner Madonna in check and just watched with glee as my daughter tried on about every sparkly necklace that she could get her hands on.  And she picked a mighty fine tutu, purse, and fairy wings to “model”, might I add.


We returned home with far too many a few hair bows, and an unplanned stuffed animal.

And, just so that we’re all clear, I may not have stepped foot into a Claire’s since 1988, but y’all, I am SO going back.

Oh. Yes. I. Am!

We closed out our riveting weekend by stopping by Starbuck’s drive-thru to get daddy a coffee.  I was trying desperately to text Sweetman to make sure he hadn’t already made his Starbuck’s run.  This is what ensued:


Happy Monday my sweet friends!

Oh, They’re Listening Alright

We had to go to the dentist today. Saturday.  I’m not a fan of Saturday dentist appointments.  Saturdays really should be spent doing something, anything, other than having someone pick at your teeth.  No offense to my friends who are in the dental industry or married to dentists.

And, also, every time I enter a dentist’s office, I feel the need to break into the song from Little Shop of Horrors, “I Want To Be a Dentist”.

In other news, my children strongly dislike their dentist appointments.  This is odd to me, as they both have been endowed with practically perfect teeth.  Captain Ahab and The Nana passed down some amazing “toother genes” as we like to call them. (We are nothing if not scholarly in our verbiage.)  It’s not like they’ve had to endure hours of work done, or anesthesia, or pain of any sort. Unless you count the pain from their twice yearly flossing.  Because, y’all, we don’t floss.  Sorry, it’s true.  I don’t want to lead you astray, thinking our dental routine is any great shakes.

Anyhoo, what my sweetkids do like about the dentist office that we go to, is the waiting room.  It has video game consoles and a castle climbing structure.  And it’s a good thing, because when I arrived, they notified me that they were running about 20 – 25 minutes behind.  Sweetman had just texted me, moments earlier, to ask us to swing by Starbuck’s on the way home and pick him up a coffee.  I texted back, and then… well, you can see his horrid sense of humor in the picture, below.


I may have completely ignored his choice of emoticon because if I don’t, the razzing just goes on and on and on.

Each time come to the dentist, my sweetchildren also seem to have an incredible ability to make fast friends with whatever other kidlets are there.  Today was no exception. What was exceptional, was the name of the little girl that Sweetgirl befriended.  It was, “Neveah”, pronounced Nuh-vay-uh.  I told the adult how beautiful it sounded and asked where it came from. “It’s Heaven. Spelled backwards.”

Before I could process that or spell check it in my head, my own child’s name was called for our appointment.  We merrily headed back and Sweetgirl proceeded to tell the Hygienist how excited she was to pick out a prize, take a ride in the chair, and get a new toothbrush.  My little talk-a-saurus hopped up on the chair, still chatting away, telling our Hygienist how she liked to talk and talked all the time and didn’t like to stop talking.  The Hygienist mouthed to me, over her head, “I’m sorry!”.  Oh, my child…

However, as soon as that chair started it’s “ride” backwards, terror gripped her.  I could see the scream starting in her throat and leapt up from my wooden child’s chair 3 feet away to soothe her.  The poor Hygienist didn’t have a clue what was coming down the pike; and I don’t want to overstate here, but Sweetgirl can be a bit, um… dramatic.  Shocking, I know.

We narrowly avoided a crisis by showing her the sparkly sunglasses that would help protect her eyes while the big light shined on her mouth. The Hygienist then started in with how she needed to shine the light because Sweetgirl’s mouth was like a little cave, and the light helped her see well enough to do her job.  Sweetgirl proceeded to try to talk through the entire teeth counting and scouring parts of the visit, unless she was screeching over each new tool brought to her mouth, or sound made by “Mr. Thirsty”.  It was a delightful 5 minutes that felt more like 500.

We stopped for a moment to get the toothpastes out. Sweetgirl was offered a choice of 3 different flavors, one of which was cotton candy.  Sweetgirl exclaimed, “Cotton candy!  I never had that taste before.”  The Hygienist lauded her for this and thought it prudent to explain how cotton candy is made out of sugar and is very bad for your teeth.  I didn’t think then was the time to correct Sweetgirl about the fact that she loves cotton candy and asks for it anytime we see it at a fair, grocer, or store.  Right?

By this point, I do believe that the Hygienist was starting to get the picture, and realized that she better get on with it, and quick; otherwise, she’d need to break out the chocolate before our visit was over.  And not for us. I’m no dental expert here, but I’d guess they don’t take too kindly to the dental staff shoving chocolate into their mouths, in the midst of a dental appointment.

You’ll be happy to note that the rest of the visit went along uneventfully.

Sweetgirl and I stopped by the grocery store in the same plaza for some essentials.  We were, after all, out of my Salted Caramel Gelato, and I needed butterscotch chips. Also, we were down to our last roll of toilet paper.

Almost 2 hours later, we pulled out of the drive-thru at Starbuck’s.  Sweetgirl piped up from the backseat, “Mama, why is cotton candy bad for you?”.


I thought that conversation had gone right over her head, but no! She’d been listening, alright.  And mulling it over in her head. Because, now, I had to re-explain what cotton candy is made out of and how sugary things can rot your teeth if you eat too much and how if you don’t brush your teeth often enough…

She interrupted me to say, “But, Mama, you give me sugary stuff all the time!”  (Which, hello!  I do not!)

But, all I could think was, “Thank You Lord that she didn’t say that in the dentist’s office.”

Yes indeedy.