Hot dogs for supper, with the wf hot dog buns, which, incidentally, John refused to eat, because, "Mom! They taste like wheat buns!" That cracked us up. Evidently there is such a thing as being "too good" at something. Go Ener-G!
It has now been a full week since our old realtor was going to "get this straightened out", and also "track down a really great tip"... Uh-huh. And people wonder why I'm cynical? On the other hand, the couple that showed us the property where James' head exploded - they called the next morning to see if he was ok. Now that goes a long way! We're still not any closer to having any clue what's going to happen next, but that's ok. We've got our lifetime to get it straight, and in the meantime, well, this is life. We live it, even if it is among boxes and plans and changes and uncertainty. The important things are not uncertain, so it's all good.
We are (finally) getting ready to finish plans to travel out for Zorak's younger brother's wedding. (I would say "little brother", but he's 6'9"...) What in the world constitutes "semi-formal" attire for someone over (significantly over) 20? Can I get away with a nice broomstick skirt, blouse, vest and lace up ropers? Zorak is set: Wranglers, dress shirt, jacket and "the good boots". I, however, stood in the closet for all of ten seconds today before realizing I own three categories of clothing: "casual", "church", and the pre-child era "extremely formal". Yup, I'm stumped.
And did you know that Zorak descends from a noble and talented race of story-tellers? He does. It's amazing. At night, before I go in to read some canned material to the boys, he sits and tells them "Daddy Stories". These are stories from his childhood, and each night the boys howl with laughter, gasp with surprise, and squeal with delight. It's amazing. Sadly, I descend from a tribe of stuttering mimes and out-of-work gypsies. Seriously, my ancestors were thrown from the caravan because, other than a deep willingness to move a lot, they could not engage in money-making gypsy-like activity.
The boys ask for "Mommy Stories" now when I come in to read. I freeze. I don't have any cute stories from my childhood. I certainly don't have any that are appropriate for the under-drinking-age crowd. Heck, I'm still struggling with some of the stories myself and have not yet decided whether to repress them, let alone subject my children to them! But still, they ask. I tried to convince them that when I was a little girl, I bribed a guy named Paris to give me a golden apple... they didn't bite. So tonight I stumbled through a story. (Parents will do anything to please their children - I should have instead insisted that my mother's name was Rapunzel and offered to tell the story of how she met my father.) They listened politely, didn't interrupt, and were very careful not to make any noise while I spun my tale. I think John fell asleep. In other words, it didn't go well. But on the upside, I don't think they'll ask for anymore "Mommy Stories". They might even go ahead and pretend they believe me when I tell them all about how I helped Daddy find his way through the labyrinth... Ugh.
Ah, well, fortunately, they love me anyway!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
7 comments:
Dy, That is so funny, my boys love those stories as well. They also love when I do the "Once upon a time" there was a boy named Jeremy or John and give a litany of who they are, what they have done during the day and and how much fun they are to be around.
Kevin has some fun stories as well but they involve fire and the police, LOL.
p.s. My husband is not a career arsonist, he just plays one on t.v.
Seriously, he and his friens set a small brush fire when they were six. Small potatoes
Yes, I am not good at "mom stories" either. And I actually HAVE some good stories! I send them to Aunt Thomasina, she can spin a good yarn.
Sooooo.....when is this wedding? How long do you have to shop? The broomstick skirts are back in. Replace boots with some flat dressy flip-flop style shoes. We'll talk. ;-)
I was never good at making up stories. I guess I should be ashamed of myself, but hey, what else is Dr. Seuss for?
Now, I impress my children by being able to recognize musical performers on the radio. I stunned them all the other day by being able to identify a song by Iggy Pop by hearing only a few seconds of the song. My son said I missed my calling and should have been a record producer. Yep, I can see the similarity: Christian hs mom and a record producer have lots in common.
Don't forget to post a pic of your wedding outfit.
"stuttering mimes and out-of-work gypsies"
Classic! My brother-in-law used to say their family crest was two lyres under a nut tree.
Semi-formal around here means your best cut-offs and flip-flops. When in Rome...right? I'm sure you will look fabulous whatever you decide to wear.
Glad to hear your poor little guy's eyes are getting back to normal.
My daughter loved those stories which we call "Kimmy Girl" and "Corky Boy" stories. You'd be amazed that they love even the most mundane. My daughter loved to hear how I would turn my bike upside down,clothespin playing cards to the spokes and rev the wheel and pretend I was spinning gold. Her most favorite stories were where Kimmy Girl would somehow be transported to the future and meet her and go on adventures together from my childhood.
Kim in NC
Lady, you're my hero for holding up so well through the uncertainty and transience. Those specifically are the things that drove me batty while we were in between places 2 months ago.
Can WE hear a post-drinking-age, questionably repressable Mommy Story? :)
My husband has a series of stories called the Mr. Mean Guy stories. They star our children as mystery solving, bringing peace to the world protagonists. They are told ONLY when I am gone, which adds to their mystique.
At least one of us can pass on the "story telling" genetic option. There's hope for the next generation (-:
~Diane
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