Security!

The Howler, bless her, still believes in Santa. Don't know how I ended up with children firmly entrenched in the fantasy of Christmas, although, I suppose, it's the way karma works. (The Toad believed well into his 9th or 10th year also, in spite of my snapping out one day and telling him flat out: I AM SANTA, YOU DOLT!)

 

 

I think it has to do with the belief that A) their mother despises Christmas-True, btw and B) good gifts disappear and socks and underwear take their place once the "magic" is gone-False, btw.

 

 

Anyway, she's been hitting everyone up with questions about their belief in Old Saint Nick, and she is working very hard to convince us that she does still believe. More power to her, I say. Live in that fantasy world, girlfriend! God knows reality will beat you with it's prosthetic leg soon enough.

 

 

What that means in Mumpleland is that we have spent the month discussing her belief, and what to do about it. The Little Mister wanted to continue to feed the illusion...I, on the other hand, am bored with the Santa thing and am ready to move on. (We are feeding the illusion, if you were wondering. I'm bored, but I'm not evil. K?)

 

 

What that also means is that the Howler, having recently announced a sudden and undying love of baby dolls, is specific in the ugly rubbery plasticky thing she's expecting Santa to provide. When I wanted to buy her dolls and tiny clothes and dishes and bottles with white liquid that disappears she had little to no interest. Now that I've given it up as a bad job and made my peace iwith it, I'm standing in KMart last Sunday afternoon, looking at creepy baby dolls.

 

 

The Howler wants a Baby Alive. Back in my day, Baby Alive was like a mutant. Now, they talk. In Spanish. They bounce and giggle and coo. And they look like shaved monkeys.

 

 

But, if you stand in that particular aisle and shake the shit out of the bouncing one, it coos just exactly the same as if it were still on the shelf. And while several people will stop, look, and giggle with you, no one will call security.

 

 

Not that I know from personal experience or anything.

Toad Tripping

The Toad started a new job. Due to the real confidentiality laws, I can only say that he is working with certifiable crazy people.

The one he's been working with most likes to do community service at the local humane society. She helps walk the dogs and it relaxes her. Apparently, the Toad's participation in this is also acceptable, and he is now walking homeless dogs. (and that's not the funny part)

The local humane society can afford a shitload of gravel for a their parking lot/mud hole. This is not usually a problem for most people...but for the Toad, this is baaaaaad news. While walking a homeless dog, he tried to jump over one of the larger mud puddles in the parking lot. Did I mention that the Toad is a rather large, doofy guy? And reminding you that he habitually twisted his ankle in gym class by tripping over painted lines should make the picture a little clearer.

Large doofy Toad lands in puddle. Dog is happy to have helped the Toad learn the very important lesson: if you have trouble walking in normal situations, and you habitually twist your ankles on painted lines, do NOT attempting to JUMP for any reason whatsoever.

Ever.

You're Invited...

Today when I got home from work, there was a card that had come in the mail. My Sweetie hasn't opened it yet, and he says, "I don't know who it's from."

I sez, "The Gator. She's inviting us to our house for Thanksgiving dinner."

He sez, "You are an ass."

I laugh, open the card and VIOLA!



We are officially invited to our own house for Thanksgiving Dinner.

HAH!

Dinner with My Spawn

Tonight for dinner, the Toad said he'd be here. So, when dinner was ready, we called up to Ass Caverns for him.

We used snooty accents, rolling our r's and elongating our vowels. He was amused.

He entered the kitchen, looked at me, and said, "Could you BE more obnoxious? Really?"

I laughed. Still using the snooty accent, I tell him, "Why, yes, I could be."

Again, he said, "Really? COULD you?"

Still laughing, I tell him, "Why yes, actually I could." Then I asked him if he wanted to throw down that gauntlet with me.

The Howler adds her two cents worth with, "Trust me, dude, you don't want to throw down anything with this woman."

The Apple Never Falls Far...

The Howler has been having a small issue with some chicklet on the bus calling her names and saying mean things.

The Howler has shared her frustration with me. I have been all over it--giving the right advice (I know, I know! How weird is that?) and telling her, first, to ignore and to be nice.

That didn't work. (Shock & surprise!)

So, I next suggested she talk to the bus driver, when they got to school, since nasty chicklet is on the bus before-and-after the Howler's stop. So, she did. Apparently, one of the teachers also heard this nasty girl say something mean to the Howler.

That remains to be seen. (the Howler gets to move her seat, no further questions asked.)

Hopefully, that solves the problem. If it doesn't, ol' Mama Mumple is gonna be involved.

But that's not really what this post is about. What this post is about, is this: The Howler, after a particularly trying day at containing herself, was horrid to be around. I sent her to her room, for general annoyance. She knows that if she's sent to her room for general annoyance, she can come out whenever she is ready to stop the annoyance and be as decent to be around as any one 9 year old can be.

She never came out.

I went up to talk to her, and see if we couldn't get whatever the bug was, out. We had a nice, non-annoying chat, and at the end, I stressed to her that I want her to find NICER, FRIENDLIER, less-confrontational ways to communicate with people. I asked her if she knew why.

She responded with: "so I can be not as mean and grumpy as you are?"

God, I love that girl.

Murderizing the Langridge Continues

Even into the 4th grade, the Howler manages to murderize the langridge:

Currently, in math, they're working on "eclapsed" time.

I am so curious to find out what, exactly, this entails, I'm off to do 4th grade math.

I'd Like To Buy A...

Hard consonant.

I'm trying to not be a total bitch. I really really really am. But really? REALLY.

The woman from 3 years ago who went batshit crazy on the PTA, who apparently does have a speech impediment...is baaaa-aaaack.

So, she was voted in. And honestly? It's like I have ADHD. I'm over the PTA. I rather like being a slacker and am happy that I'm back in the cheap seats.

But I spent an hour of my life listening to this woman mis use and abuse the English language. We had a "mee-in" tonight

And she uses the wrong word--she pronounces those ones just fine, thankyouverymuch. They're just WRONG. As in, I'm having a coherent thought, and OMG! If you mean "overlook" as in "You need to overlook the fact that I cannot pronounce T's and G's" then please, for my sanity, do not say, "They will oversee the fact that I cannot speak in complete thoughts."

I'm overseeing it, baby. Believe me, I'm overseeing it.

On the First Day of School

My true love gave to me...

A Howler in the fourth grade.

*sigh*(will edit later to add pics.)

Bad Mommy

Last Monday night, the Mumples went for wings at a local watering hole. Wings were excellent...and after we ate, the Howler & I made a trip to the ladies' to wash our hands.

I don't spend much time in such watering holes, so I had forgotten what would be hanging on the wall in there. The Howler, bless her, noticed.

She asked me what those were for. (It was billed as a "tingler ring" LOL)

Being the Evil Mommy I am, I told her to ask her father when we got to the car.

It was soooooo worth it for the look on My Sweetie's face. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even make up a believable story to tell her.

Whoosh!

Sunday, the Mumples spent the day at Waldameer & Water World Park in Erie, PA. We had fun, and the Howler is really enjoying riding the rides.

Especially the Ravine Flyer II, the roller coaster that goes 160 mph, over the road. It's a wicked 60 or so seconds, and while I like the thrills of it, it's a bit rough on the ol' bod, yanno?

The Howler drags me onto it for the 2nd time near the end of the day. Big mistake for me! I could barely walk afterwards. As the Howler heads off the her next thrill, I realize I have lost my phone...

Not that it's a fabulous phone, mind you. Just a tracfone, but still! Crap! Damn!

I head back to the Ravine Flyer II, and I ask the chick at the gate if anyone found and turned in a cellphone. She's trying really hard to not smirk and shriek with laughter.

There are signs everywhere stating that if it's not actually stapled to your body, you're going to lose it, and they're not responsible. Sure, I get that, but the phone managed to stay with me the first time...

Crap. Damn. As the not yet laughing chick walks over to the dudes also working the ride, some guy is standing in the car the Howler and I were in, holding up my phone!

After a quick Hallelujah chorus, I walk back through the entrance to find the Howler.

If only they sold a t-shirt that read "the Ravine Flyer II kicked my ass" and another one that reads "my cellphone survived the Ravine Flyer II"

Heigh-Ho

It's off to Camp she goes...

Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.

This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.

We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.

There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.

"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.

We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.

While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.

We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.

We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.

Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!

We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.

Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"

She is her mother's daughter.

Ain't Right. Just Ain't Right

So it's summertime and the Howler, of course, needs a new swimsuit.

We finally manage to work out an agreement whereby she won't whine or pout while shopping and I won't act like a shrieking younger version of my mother.

Turns out that the Howler is also getting big enough, and developing enough, to need a training bra. Signs are obvious and instead of doing the usual Mumple denial-then-scramble, I embrace the darkside and go with it.

While trying on said bras, the Howler also shows me the spot where she lost a tooth last week: there is something seriously wrong with my baby girl trying on training bras while she still has Tooth Fairy money in her pockets (and the hole in her head where the tooth is starting to come in.)

Kill me. Kill me now.

Restraint Is The Better Part of Valor

Apparently, keeping an open mind and ear for trouble is the way to go.

Sometimes, it's good to be the grown up. Things have settled down in the Howler's classroom (and I'm hoping this isn't going to be one of those speaking-too-soon things.) From what I've heard, the children are behaving better, and Miss Thang is behaving better too.

A few nights ago, the Howler tells us during supper that Miss Thang was looking for my email, because she needed to respond to it. What email? What?

The only email I sent was the one she did respond to, and that I had decided to hold off on further action (beyond talking to the guidance counsellor during that chance meeting.) So, I rattled off a quick email, telling the teacher that the Howler said she was trying to reach me, and that I hoped it wasn't because of a problem--but if there was a problem, I very much want to help! Then I gave her the best time the next day to reach me. She emailed back within hours.

No problem, The Howler had told her that I was trying to reach her! Silly Howler.

I had to take the Howler's lunch in today (I didn't get up in time to pack her lunch.) I ran into Miss Thang, and she asked me if I got her email. Miss Thang was very nice, very chipper, and the children seemed happy. The Howler has been happy and chatty and while her attitude has cranked up (thank you, Mother Nature for the crappy weather) and so, for now, I am keeping the status quo.

Let's hope this was just a glitch in the machine, and the next 2 months go well!

Curiosity & the Cat

This Mama Cat is curious. And getting curiouser.

The Howler announced this morning, while getting her shoes on to head to school, that she needed to bring pencils today. "Miss 3rd Grade Teacher Thang said that there are no more pencils." And Mama is all "Say what?!"

Oh, not because it's unusual--our district is actually fairly unusual in that it still provides all that school supply stuff for the kids. At least at the elementary level, but because our district does unusually provide those things, I'm surprised that this is what the Howler is saying. I can remember (yes, even that far back!) being in elementary school and the teacher telling us that pencils aren't an unlimited supply and that we need to turn in a stub of a pencil to get a new one (teaches responsibility and keeps ya from spending all day wandering over to the sharpener 'just cuz') but to say that there are absolutely no more pencils coming from the district? (and for the record, I don't have a problem sending pencils in with the Howler. I'm so polluted with pencils I'll send 'em for the entire 3rd grade if they need 'em.)

I'm seriously starting to think that Miss Thang is a tyrant. Who thinks that misrepresenting reality is the best way to endear herself to future generations. God Help Us.

Good thing my boots are now all shiny and ready to go.

Updated--Pointy Boots Still On Hold

While I was at the school for a PTA fundraising thing yesterday, and as I was leaving, I ran into the guidance counsellor. I will remind you that I don't hold guidance counsellors in much higher esteem than I do bad teachers--my personal experience with most of them is that they became guidance counsellors because they are crappy people who need help themselves, so they thought they'd do best in helping to make more screwed up people like themselves, and actually being a counsellor of any kind would expose them to being sued when they screwed up adults.

But.. Anyway...

The one at the Howler's school seems genuinely concerned for the students. And I've talked with her about some of what happens in our neighborhood--the Urchins situation, and Damien's penchant for hacking up moles with plastic hoes.

I ran into her as I was leaving, and asked if she had a minute. She did, so I asked that we go to her office. (We were exactly outside the Howler's classroom, too) We talked about what's been happening in the Howler's room, and I told her what the Howler said, and without naming anyone, that another adult whom I trust had overheard another child from the Howler's room telling their parent the exact same thing the Howler said. I told her that it was my opinion that Miss Thang did too tell the children that they would be silent from their arrival at school to their dismissal from school until the end of the year.

My concerns are two-fold: First and foremost, if Miss Thang was that upset, stressed, or disturbed by what was going on with those children, she should NOT have been in that classroom. She did not have control of herself, or that classroom Wednesday afternoon. Whatever she and the principal had determined would be the course of action wasn't enough for her--and it should have been. She wasn't in control of herself then, and it can and probably will happen again.

Second, she's been back from maternity for one month. These children have 4 months of experience that she is not part of. They have a group dynamic that she has not been involved in. The 6 weeks from September & October, and the 4 weeks since the end of February is not enough time for her to have learned who they are as individuals and as a group. IF the inappropriate language, gestures, and hurtful actions/words have been on-going throughout the year, then OK, it's this particular group gone 3rd grade bad. BUT if it's just been seen, or escalating since her return, THEN it's time to take a look at how she is acting/reacting to the children, especially as a group, and evaluate if there's something she's doing or saying that is causing them to react this way. (Not that it makes the behaviors okay, but it would explain WHY it's became this ugly)

The Howler, for the most part, enjoys school, and isn't having any major problems academically, or socially. (Which brings me to a lesser question: we just had conferences, WHY wasn't this crap mentioned then...and if I didn't bring it up, WHY didn't she?) I don't want to see this year become a Hell Year, from which we will date all on-going problems with authority, learning, blah blah blah.

If Miss Thang doesn't realize that it's not realistic to come into a classroom after being not-there (no matter how valid the reason) for 4 months--fully 1/2 the year!!--and begin trying to force "her way" on the people there, then it's time for a Free Clue.

Seriously. I work retail, and with the store manager changes we've seen, the ones that get the best response from people in general, are the managers who take their time looking around, observing the group dynamic, determining where changes truly need to be made, then implementing those changes in a calm, reasonable, realistic manner. (The Weasel didn't do that, and it took him fully 2 years to gain any kind of respect from us--and we're adults! I can only imagine that these children, much like hyenas sensing weakness in their prey, are chewing this New Girl Teacher to shreds on a daily basis. They instinctively sense her weak spots and are hammering away on them.)

Mostly, I just want this year over. I want the Howler unscathed. As much as I enjoy a good Righteous Ass Kicking (not my ass, of course), I'd really rather not have to be bothered.

The Magic 8 Ball Is Never Wrong

Kinda. I started a post earlier today about how I respect teachers in general, and how I especially respect and stand in awe of excellent teachers...but how a few bad nutbar people ruin it for everyone.

I've decided to go through with the post. Mostly because the thing has my teeth on edge, and my back up. I'm looking for some college educated ass to kick. At the Howler's school.

This year has been a year of disappoint for us. She was supposed to have this awesomely fantastic teacher, who bailed out of our school for a district closer to where he lives. Which I can understand, but can I still just say, "You couldn't have waited ONE more freaking year? Seriously!" Instead she got this replacement. Adorable young thing, I assume she's just a year or so out of college. It's unclear whether or not this is her first year with her very own classroom.

I'm not impressed. First, she got the job while she was, I kid you not, 7 months pregnant. Knowing full well that she would miss fully half the year, she got the job. And the contingency plan was just flat out Slacker. I know me some slacker when I see it, and this chicklet was it. So, I'm totally 100% dead on with lack-of-impressiveness when it comes to teachers this year.

Anyway, the one who had a baby has been back a month. There were very few behavorial problems--and believe me, the Howler is more than willing to rat out every one of those nasty OPK in her class. She even managed to rat herself out more than once, but there were no major traumas going on with the Slacker.

But this woman? She's back just about 30 days now, and WOW! There's a nasty little incident with 2 boys smashing a playdoh person they made and named...and the principal arrived in the classroom to discuss how the children should handle a situation where they don't want to be friends with someone. AFTER the principal leaves, this woman tells the children that for the remainder of the year, there will be absolutely NO TALKING during the school day, unless you are specifically given permission by her. Not during lunch, not in the AM when you arrive at school, not while waiting for dismissal after school. No Talking. Period. Oh, and for good measure, IF you're given recess at all, it will be indoors--even on nice days--and you will be doing nothing but work work work without a break in the meantime.

At first, I thought the Howler MUST HAVE misunderstood. But during a PTA related conversation, I discover that this PTA person overheard conversation a child from the Howler's class was having with her mother. EXACT SAME WORDING. And this other little girl ain't no drama queen that I've seen or heard. She's fairly laid back, extremely non-overreacting.

I had already emailed the teacher, asking for clarification, while spelling out specifically what the Howler had said. The response was sent at 9:22am (plenty of time for her to have her attitude adjusted) today. While the words are right, I get the feeling that what I got told was the adjusted, suitable for parental consumption turn of events.

The Howler came home from school today, fairly happy, if tired after being out sick for 2 days, and having a busy Wednesday/early Thursday morning. So, the Miss Thang gets a "bye" for now...but I'll be in the school tomorrow for another purpose, and there better not be any surprises. I've already polished my ass kicking boots, and this little whackadoodle has definite target characteristics.

Oh, and before the Howler got home, I consulted the Magic 8 Ball. This thing has NEVER been wrong, and I do mean NEVER. Even the Toad has tried it, and it's NEVER wrong.

I asked, "Is Mrs. Thang lying?" and the Magic Answer was, "It is decidedly so."

11 Kinds of Sad; 7 Kinds of Happy

PSSA testing started yesterday. (That's the stardardized tests for proficiency in the PA schools.)

When the Toad went to school, even elementary, the dayumed teachers--the idiots--actually told the kids that if they didn't do well on the tests, teachers would lose their jobs. Then, they couldn't figure out why the kids were 40billion kinds of stressed-out sick in the weeks before test.

Nowadays, they tell the kids the tests are important, but they don't stress out the kids like that. They let the kids have breaks (real breaks, not a "why do you need to go to the bathroom again?" break) with bottles of water and snacks. Extra recess if possible, for those grades whose scores will determine budget $$ and staffing. The school also provides breakfast this week for every child in those determining grade levels.

On Monday, the Howler (and, yes, of course, every other child in her class) were told that they weren't to bring their usual water bottle and snack to school. And that they could eat breakfast at school.

The Howler went to 11 kinds of spazz, and had a meltdown fit. The Gator was worried enough about the spazz out to call her neighbor, who also happens to be a teacher at the Howler's school, to clarify what was happening.

The meltdown continued, in varying degrees the rest of the evening.

When I arrived home after work, at about 9:45pm, the phone rang within seconds of my walking in the door. It was the Gator.

"Did your Sweetie tell you about her water bottle?"

"I literally just walked in the door."

"Well, he'll tell you, but I checked it all out, and everything is fine."

"Okay. I literally just walked in the door."

"I checked it all out! It's all OK."

So, when I hung up the phone, I asked My Sweetie, "Was the Howler's water bottle turned into a bomb?"

"uh, no. I take it that was the Gator?"

"Yeah. And apparently, her water bottle was a bomb, and the Gator got it diffused in time."

Needless to say, her water bottle was NOT a bomb, and the Gator is just nuts. My Sweetie explained the entire meltdown for me.

In the morning, she wasn't in that much of a hurry to get ready for school. She did manage to get ready and out the door to meet the bus on time, though. She was still quite a few shades of apprehensive and unhappy.

When she barrelled in the door later that same day, though, she was 7 kinds of happiness, announcing that she would be eating breakfast at school every morning this week. And that she was not dehydrated, because she received a bottle of water and a tasty-good snack. And she was given a piece of peppermint gum to chew while taking the tests.

And, mostly, she LOOOOOOOOOOOVES taking these tests. It's the bestest EVER.

Sometimes, I think my darling Howler is a Drama Queen. And, that day, I knew for absolutely sure and certain, she IS a Drama Queen.

Ash Wednesday

At our non-Catholic house, we are meatless on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. This about kills Mr Mumple, and apparently, the Howler is following in her father's footsteps.

Today's school lunch menu choices were mac-n-cheese or chicken nuggets. This is a hard decision, because noodles of any kind and chicken nuggets are both basic food groups for the Howler.

I reminded her that today was Ash Wednesday, and therefore, meatless. Chicken nuggets, by the loosest of definitions, are meat. Being the Drama Queen she is, the Howler proceeds to be VERY traumatized by the prospects.

Being a bad Episcopalian, but a good Mom, I tell her to listen carefully: If you "forget" that you're not supposed to eat meat today, and get the chicken nuggets anyway, nobody will be upset, not even God. God didn't make that rule, so if you "accidently" eat chicken nuggets at school for lunch, no one will be upset.

When she got home today after school, the Howler told me about lunch. She got the mac-n-cheese (good girl!) but told her friends why she had to have the mac-n-cheese.

Being good friends, the girls each broke some of their chicken nuggets in half and gave half to the Howler. Being a polite girl (sometimes) the Howler was obligated to accept and consume the chicken nuggets (that's my baby!)

When she told me, I damaged a rib trying not to laugh out loud.

A New Song

for the Toad:

"The Toad got run over by a retard
Working full time and working hard
You can say that the Toad ain't never worked hard
But as for his grandma, she believes."

Yeah. And when he went to the ER to have the damage evaluated, he never told us. The Gator called him to invite him to eat dinner at her house, and he told her that he'd be there when he was released from the ER.

I'm trying not to laugh, even as I post this. I've had some really strange things happen to me, but even I have never been run over by a retard.

The Bettys

This morning was Sunday School, which meant that Missy slept over. Last night, she & the Howler were all ADHD noise and disrespect.

This morning, they began bickering before their beady little eyeballs were open. I don't know what the bickering was about, I just know that well before we left for church, I wanted to beat them both bloody, and My Sweetie had begun referring to them as the Bickering Bettys.

They bickered on the way to church. When that didn't get them the results they wanted (Kidz Bop on the radio) they began bickering at me. As if! I called them both Betty all morning.

They managed to reign it in until after Sunday School. Then they decided to go all-out and actually FIGHT. As I tried to put the fear of God into each of them, the other Betty stood behind me, smirking.

Lovely.

On the way home, Betty A (the Howler) would just randomly bark orders...shut that off! No, not that one! And when I responded, they began howling like a pack of wild dogs on the scent of prey.

We weren't even out of the car, and they began demanding lunch. They were half nekkid changing into play clothes, bickering about who was wearing which tee shirt.

They were outside...and now Betty A is back inside, bitching about Betty B. Betty B is probably at her house, bitching about Betty A. Betty A wants the phone, so she can call Betty B and tell her off that way.

God help me. They're not going to survive the rest of today...

The Deets

Tonight, the Howler decided that since her DSi is supposedly internet capable, she would get herself on the internet. Needless to say, her parental units were not quite as happy about that idea as she was. (Turns out, the DSi may be internet capable, but we're not wired for that, baby.)

So, my Sweetie was fidgeting with the DSi, and whatever he did to it, it reset the camera feature.

The Howler begins telling me off because "Daddy did something to myyyyyy DSi. I had to watch all the deets to the camera."

I asked her to repeat herself. She wouldn't.

But, for the record, my baby knows the "deets."

Duelling

We've already established that one of the definitive things about the Howler is that she goes to 11. Especially in volume/noise level. And that she loves music--the more annoying, the better. (of course, she cut her teeth on Steve Miller Band, and Pink Floyd, but that's a totally different story!)

A few Saturdays ago, she and Missy were listening to music in the kitchen. A veritable Dance Party, it was. And of course, we know that Missy is about as silent as the Howler.

First, it felt like an earthquake. Then, I prayed for a real earthquake--they found the Kidz Bop Christmas CD My Sweetie had so idiotically purchased for the Howler. (His rationale? There is no rationale when it comes to Kidz Bop.)

My Sweetie decided at this point to defend himself, by turning on the stereo in the living room. He chose his weapon carefully--to counter attack Kidz Bop you've got to have something ... well, something.

He chose "Along Came A Spider" by the inimitable Alice Cooper.

Yeppers--I was sitting in the middle, praying for, well, anything, that would stop the insanity. Kidz Bop Christmas to the right. Alice Cooper (You'd look good in the trunk of my car, btw) to the left...I think whatever would've happened within the next 15 minutes would've been totally justifiable in any court of law.

Howler Poetry on a Snowy Day

Cats here and
Cats there
Cats all around the town
Cats are here
And cats are there
What can we ask for now?

Listen Up

Most of the time, the Howler is listening to A) the beat of her own drum; B) the sound of her own voice; C) her parents talking, which sounds very much like the adults' voices in Peanuts.

We recently discovered that she also listens in church. To the readings. And maybe the sermon. Okay, sometimes the sermon, especially if she can apply it to giving me hell.

Anyway, since she's in AWANA and has to do daily devotions, and I got elected to handle that particular Sunday evening's reading, I chose to repeat the lessons read that morning in church. She didn't comment on the book, chapter, or verse information.

Three words into the actually reading itself, she sez, "Hey! We already read this today in church!"

She's not listening to me, but she's listening to God. Save me.

Howlerisms

The Howler has a gift for slaughtering the English langridge. Always has. Added to the unique way she views the world, it's really something. She's also got a 3rd grade attitude going on...and it's really something, too.

Last night during dinner, My Sweetie was using the pronoun "we" while detailing what needed done for that evening.

The Howler, after hearing the exhaustive list (it was two things, I think,) asks him, "Who's this 'we' you're talking about? You and the squirrel in your pocket?"

Christmas Notes

I know I even missed orthodox Christmas, but you gotta know:

Christmas eve, for various reasons, I put on make up. Even tastefully, carefully, and conservatively done, everyone else thought I looked good.

The Howler, however, sez, "MOMMY! GO WASH YOUR FACE!"

I sez, "No, baby, I just put on make up."

The Howler replies, "I know and IT'S FREAKING ME OUT!"

Oh, how I love that girl!

Whatever!

So, Mr Mumple is still off, until Wednesday. He picked the Howler up after school today.

He sez, "We have about a cute little girl. She came running to the car, all smiling and happy."

I sez, "Well, she likes you more than she likes me."

He sez, "Yeah. And I can see why."