Monday, February 25, 2013

I Know the Suspense Was Killing You

Ummm... yeah.  The ex-boyfriend was apparently shamed by a teacher or his mother or someone.

This is Dave the Monkey.  I'm not exactly sure how I feel about him taking up residence in our home, but, nevertheless, he is here.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Case in Point

Yesterday was Valentine's Day.  Every year I get another reminder of why I despise this pink and red plastered "holiday."  This year was no different. 

Remember that part yesterday where I told you that I once got dumped on Valentine's Day?  And the part where I had talked to Miss Noteworthy last year about how boys of all ages break up with girls on Valentine's Day (and other special occasions) because they are jackwagons?

Well, I wish I had all explained that to RNR...

I'm coming back to that in a minute. 

Before I go back there, I would like to let you know about the rest of us.

Miss Noteworthy's unconventional gift of ramen TOTALLY won Valentine's Day at the middle (of hell) school.  The "boyfriend" thought it rocked, too, and made other boys jealous by comparing their Skittles and flowers to the power of his ramen.  Everyone agreed that there is no comparison. Ramen wins everytime. Every. Single. Time. And the "boyfriend" shaved his face (so very needed) and brought her KitKats, so Miss Noteworthy had a heart day far happier than last year. Thank goodness.

Bonus spent a couple of hours of his V-Day at the doctor, and I was right there with him for the bloodwork, flu test, and strep swab.  He was extremely disappointed that he was going to be missing his party at school.  And his missing school meant I didn't get to go on my shopping date with Mr. Incredible to get new sports bras and workout shoes (romantic, no?).  Fortunately, Mr. Incredible was not traveling, and I got a few minutes to run up to the school to attend RNR's party and pick up Bonus' Valentine box from his sweet teacher.  She had even put some grapes and cookies from the party in his box so that he wouldn't miss out.

Mr. Incredible cooked dinner AND made chocolate chip cookies AND installed new faucets in the kidlets' bathroom (which is in further disarray than last year at this time but now has two non-dripping faucets). And brought me roses.  Hmmm.... I wonder if he has made another major purchase that he conveniently forgot to tell me about.  I guess I can call my Bible study class and ask them.

Back to the case in point...

RNR and another reason why Valentine's Day should be abolished.

Not so much happy for her yesterday.  RNR is in the 4th grade this year.  Last week she scandalously asked a classmate if he would be her boyfriend.  She wrote him the "circle yes or no" note.  He circled yes, so it was official. And serious.  Serious, I tell you.  The whole fourth grade was agog. 

All week the boy told her he had bought her a stuffed blue monkey for Valentine's Day.  He even sent her a picture of it. She thought it was really cute and was counting downthedaysuntil hegave it to her.  RNR wanted to have a gift for him, too.  She knew he liked Sour Patch Kids, so she bought a box for him at the Krogert.  I put a ribbon around it for her, and she was very excited to bring it to school and give it to him.  First thing in the morning, she gave him her gift.  He gobbled it up during class.  At lunchtime, he dumped her.  And didn't give her the monkey.

He took her gift, ate it, dumped her, and kept the monkey he had dangled in front of her.


Is it just me, or do you want to call his mama, too?  'Cause I want to call his mama.  And I want to wring his little neck. After I stuff a blue monkey down it. 

Plus. the aqua heart necklace that Mr. Incredible and I gave RNR that morning broke in P.E. class.  It just wasn't a good day for her.

When we returned home, we explained the events of the day to Mr. Incredible and Bonus who both had hugs for RNR and unkind words to say about the boy.  Finally, when Miss Noteworthy arrived home from school and heard the news, there was closed door sister bonding happening.  When I went upstairs to check on them, RNR was in her bed surrounded by KitKat wrappers and Miss Noteworthy was doling out more KitKats.  A stereotypical post-breakup scene. 

Fortunately, RNR had been to the Daddy-Daughter Dance with Mr.Incredible earlier this week or who knows how many KitKat wrappers I would be pulling out of her sheets today. That is a good memory.

Yeah, Miss Noteworthy didn't want to go to the dance, but Dad made her get in the picture anyway.   

I know that RNR will be fine.  In fact, she seemed perfectly normal and cheerful this morning.  Hopefully, she isn't scarred for life. 

I know some people love this "holiday" and look forward to it every year.  Good for them.  As far as I am concerned,

Hallmark with its commercialization of love can suck it.  

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Upping the Ante

Miss Noteworthy is in 8th grade this year.   As we have all survived the evil place they innocuously call "middle school"  (as in "I'm in the middle of hell.  Could someone PLEASE get me out of here?"), we can identify with the awkwardness and sometimes cruel intentions that hound those hallways and classrooms and know that she, too, will live through it.  In that building, she has experienced mean girls and inappropriate boys right along with the best  rest of them.

And as today is Valentine's Day I expect pink teddy bears larger than myself, helium balloon bouquets that could carry a small child away, an inordinately large number of pounds of candy, and enough roses to overcome even the sweatsock smell in the locker rooms to pass through the front doors of the place.

Last year, Miss Noteworthy's previous boyfriend took the expected and easy way out.  He broke up with her right before all the hearts and flowers hit town, and I had warned her that boys of all ages sometimes take this route because they feel pressure about the day o' love (or birthdays or Christmas).  She was pretty upset about the breakup, but all the stuffed animals and flowers compounded the sadness and awkwardness that surround a middle school any breakup (even if they hardly ever spoke to one another the whole six months they were "going out").  She went to school that day armed with the phrase "Happy Single's Awareness Day!" and hoped for the best.  She was just really glad when the day was over.  She survived.

Just like I did when Rich Dern broke up with me ON Valentine's Day circa 1983.  After I had gotten all dolled up in a white, red, and turquoise miniskirt.  And spent all kinds of time wishfully make-upping in the mirror.  I even curled my bangs.  I know.  I know.

Miss Noteworthy has a new "boyfriend" this year, and she actually speaks to this one every single day.  So, exchanging Valentines was a no-brainer.  But, have you read the Valentines at the Krogert? 

Not so much appropriate for 13 and 14 year olds to exchange with each other.  Too much innuendo.  Or no innuendo-everything-just-spelled-out-in-big-red-letters.  Or too mushy.  Yuck.  Or just plain stupid.

So, we decided to go with a card that was ridiculous and made us laugh.  Because as Miss Noteworthy said herself, "It is 8th grade" which means she is not planning to marry this guy.  We both decided that hysterically funny wasthe only way to go. 

I wish I had a picture of the card because Justin Bieber's face is pretty amazing.  And then there was this line about needing extra swag on Valentine's Day.  We both knew it was perfect as soon as we read it.

And then, heart-shaped chocolates just seemed a little sappy.  Miss Noteworthy is kind of a no-frills girl, so she went with oriental flavored ramen instead of flowers or candy. 

Between the Bieber Boy's swag and dried noodles, at our house we call this winning at Valentine's Day.

I'll see your heart-shaped candy and raise you five packs of ramen.


Friday, February 8, 2013

The Eff Word: RNR-Style

It all started when Bonus and I were in the kitchen one afternoon.

He was playing games on the computer and pictochatting on his DS with RNR, who was upstairs in her bedroom.  I was cooking dinner.  He was reading her messages and giggling (these messages consisted of imaginative words like "toiletbread."   Everything was fine.


Bonus sounds an alert.

"Mommy, I think [RNR] sent me a bad word."

What?  I walk over to the computer and pick up his DS.

"Ummm, yeah.  That's a bad word."

In fact, it was the mother of all bad words.  And she thought she needed to share it with her six year old brother via Nintendo technology. She didn't type the letters.  There was no way she or I could pass it off as a typo of duck.  There was malice and forethought and intent scrawled with her Mario Bros. stylus. 

Lovely.  My nine year old daughter has the mind and penmanship of a sailor.

As soon as I called her name, she was running down the stairs crying. She already knew she had made a bad choice.  And that I knew all about it. 

Immediately, she began pleading her feeble case.

"I didn't mean to do it."

Oh really?  Rilly? Seriously? Sur-E-Us-Lee?  She tries to convince me that it was an accident and that she didn't mean to hit send.

Please let me know if I do appear this way, but do I look like I'm standing in a road dusting off my bottom as a truck chock full of turnips chugs on down the lane?  I think not.

Little girl,  your mommy is the DRIVER of that truck that holds those purple and white root vegetables. I haven't fallen off any truck. Ever.  I fell out of a red Nissan Sentra once, but that is an entirely unrelated story that will not be told here.

So I say, "But you did hit send. And you did write the word.  Why did you write that word?"

RNR explains,"I wanted to see if pictochat would let me write it."


My lil' baby chile.  Pictochat will send anything you write or type.  Oh wait.  Yours won't because for the time being that DS is mine.  BOOM.  Uh-huh.  How you like them turnips?  Want me to boil them up and mash 'em for ya?

I take her DS away, and we talk for the nine millionth time about how important our words are.  And we talk specifically about her particular choice in vocabulary for that day.  We talk about how she knows that word (not from me or her father) and if her fellow fourth graders are trying out that word as an experiment in coolness (No one is using the word at school.  She, apparently, was hoping to be the ring leader of that phase at school after she experimented on her little brother and gauged his reaction to the word.). We end our discussion by talking about how her choice exposed her little brother to something he hadn't seen before and shouldn't have had to see. 

I tell her I love her, and I know that she now knows without any doubt that word is inappropriate.  And that I know she won't choose to use it anymore.  I can tell that she knows she was wrong.  She doesn't need any further consequence. I make her apologize to her brother for sending him curse words.  Her apology is tearful, and his acceptance is genuine.  We drop the subject and move on with our day.

She got her DS back earlier this week.  There have been no obscene or even slightly questionable pictochat entries.  Which is too bad because I was starting to get good at a couple of those DS games....  Did you know you can have Abraham Lincoln drive a truck that drops turnips all the way down the street on Super Scribblenauts?