I’m not going to write about this battle that occurs in my house.
I assume that it goes in on many of your homes, as well.
I’ll just let the picture speak for me.
Can I get an Amen?
I’m not going to write about this battle that occurs in my house.
I assume that it goes in on many of your homes, as well.
I’ll just let the picture speak for me.
Can I get an Amen?
Previously, I have shared with you my distaste for the chore of laundry.
I despise it.
I’ve created some routines to help me manage it and not move us all to a nudist colony, but it is still on the bottom of my chore list.
Today, however, my boys offered to help.
To lighten my load.
To ease my burden.
I hugged them and kissed them and thanked them profusely for wanting to help Mommy.
The each brought in a laundry basket and proceeded to help.
…or make boats out of laundry baskets and pillows.
“Help” is such a relative term. Don’t you think?
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And as for those of you who didn’t participate? I don’t believe you’ve never gotten the lyrics of a song wrong!
So there!
So, as the musical director of our spring musical, I memorize all the songs in the show each year, so that on the performance nights, I can sit in the pit and mouth the words to any middle school performer who may have forgotten the words to their song.
This year, we have 25 songs in the play, however, they are all 80’s songs, so it is the easiest I’ve ever had it!
I grew up in the 80’s!
I know every single 80’s song!
I know every word to every single 80’s song!
Right?
Ummm…not so much with the whole every word thing.
As I read the music and teach the songs to the kids, it turns out that I was quite creative with my lyrics in the 80’s.
In more than half of the songs we are singing, I’ve found myself saying, “Wait? Those are the words???”
Believe me when I tell you that this comes as no surprise to my childhood friends. I guarantee they are reading this shaking their heads saying, “Yep…she sang at the top of her lungs, but always the wrong words.”
Who knew?
Some of it is pretty tame.
For example, in “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” I always thought the words were, “When in the world can they have fun? Oh, when in the world can they have fun, oh girls…Girls just wanna have fun!”
It seems as though the actual lyrics are “When the working day is done, oh, when the working day is done, oh girls…Girls just wanna have fun!”
Not too terribly wrong.
Yet, still wrong.
Or, let’s examine “Footloose.”
I always thought that it was “Jack, get back, come on the four way crack. Loose, you’re loose. Everybody cut footloose.”
Apparently Kenny Loggins thought this sounded better:
“Jack, get back, come on before we crack. Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose.”
Oh, and this part (which I thought was) “Somebody to tell you, that life ain’t passing you by, I’m trying to tell you, in the middle of a whittle don’t really cry,” really goes like this, “Somebody to tell you, that life ain’t passing you by, I’m trying to tell you, it will if you don’t even try.”
Whatever.
If you like lyrics that make sense, I guess his version is okay.
We aren’t singing “Flashdance” in the show, but that’s another example, albeit a bit dirty, considering that I thought the line “Take your passion and make it happen” was “Take your pants down and make it happen.” I could never believe they played that on the radio, although today, it probably wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Ooh, ooh…or how about Manfred Mann’s “Blinded by the Light?” (Granted…it’s from 1977 when I was 5, but let’s consider it anyway.) Even though I know the words, I still believe that “Wrapped up like a deuce, another runner in the night” is about a feminine hygiene product being rolled into the night and you can’t convince me otherwise.
I simply cannot be the only person who has gotten this many lyrics wrong.
So, our next contest is this:
Leave a comment below with a song to which you always sang/sing the wrong lyrics.
(I say “sing” in the present tense, because given the percentage of lyrics I had wrong in the 80’s, I’m predicting a high percentage of wrong lyrics coming out of my mouth in the 90’s and into the present.)
Winner will be chosen at random, however, I’m hoping for some really funny stuff, because I could use some laughs!
The prize for winning the contest will be a $10 gift card to Old Navy.
Contest will run through Wednesday night, January 27th, 8 pm.
So, tell your friends, and share your lyrical shame!
Back in October, I made this post, about my girl.
While I still stand by my feelings in that post, I need to chat a little today about Monkey in the Middle.
The biggest Mama’s boy known to man.
Let me just say that I have done nothing to turn this kid into a Mama’s boy.
I’m not overprotective by any stretch of the imagination. I encourage my monkeys to take risks and to be independent.
However, this guy…
…has this intense, inate desire to be near me every second of the day.
It’s funny.
As symbiotic and in-tune as Monkey Girl and I are, we are also able to be independent of each other.
Baby Monkey, although he is my little, precious linebacker baby, and I’d love to hold him every second of the day, is the most indpendent of the kids. He loves me, no doubt, but he’s perfectly happy off on his own, and can be alone for hours before even thinking,”Huh…I wonder if Mom and Dad are still around.”
Unless he’s at a birthday party.
But that’s another post for another day.
It’s a different story with Monkey in the Middle.
It doesn’t matter how much fun he is having, Monkey in the Middle comes to find me, approximately every thirty minutes.
Once he finds me, he walks over, gives me a big hug, snuggles in, sniffs my arm (not sure what that’s about, but he’s always sniffed my arm), and goes back to his business.
Just making sure I’m there.
Just getting his hug.
Just letting me know he was thinking about me.
When I put him to bed at night, we snuggle up for a few minutes, chatting about our day, and before I leave, he’ll always whisper “Mommy…you’re my best friend.”
He makes my heart ache.
Today, he went to a rock climbing birthday party.
I went with him.
He was terrified, but decided to give it a try anyway.
I stood with the parents and watched as he made his way closer to the rock wall.
Every few steps, he’d look over and I’d give him a smile and a thumbs up.
Then, it was his turn.
He didn’t make it more than a few feet off the ground, but when he got down, he looked around, found me, and I just smiled and mouthed “Great job!”
That’s all he needed.
To know that I was there, and to know that I was proud of him, even if he wasn’t climbing to the top and ringing the bell.
He tried again, and got a little higher, but then decided to just try the low walls that didn’t require ropes.
Climb, climb, climb…check in with Mom for a snuggle. Climb, climb, climb…check in with Mom for a snuggle.
I will continue to encourage his independence, and am incredibly hopeful that he doesn’t grow into the type of Mama’s boy that is still living with us at age 38 because no girl can measure up to his Mom.
Okay, maybe that wouldn’t be too bad.
But, tomorrow morning, around 4:00 am, when Monkey in the Middle creeps into our room and climbs into our bed for a snuggle and an arm sniff, I’m going to wrap him up tight and tell that Mama’s boy that his Mommy loves him.
Today was a good day.
A fun day.
A long day.
Yet, a good day.
I started out by teaching piano lessons. I enjoy teaching piano a great deal.
The kids are great, the music is great…it’s just a really good thing in my life.
Then, I headed to school for our full-day play rehearsal. Our show is in the beginning of March, and today was our full-day rehearsal.
This show, in particular, is tons of work for me, as there are 25 songs in it.
The good news? The show is called “Back to the 80’s” and every song is from the 80’s.
My decade.
My music.
I’m loving play practice.
Real Man had to go somewhere, so about halfway through, he dropped the kids off, and so they got to see the rehearsal.
They loved it, although, I think their favorite part was the snack bar.
After play rehearsal, we came home and the monkeys played outside for a few hours, and then when it started to get dark, came inside and turned the basement into an apartment with a table on the “deck.”
Only Monkey Girl managed to poke her head out for the picture. The boys were too busy hysterically giggling.
When Real Man got home, he brought his Dad and we all had dinner (on the good china) and had a great time together.
Then, the monkeys went back to the basement and started checking out what they could watch On Demand, and I made them popcorn.
(Note…the empty cups laying on their side on the table are from the “deck” on their apartment. Don’t want you thinking I leave dirty cups all over the house. Not today, at least.)
Real Man went to hockey, and the monkeys are now in the basement, still on the couch, entwined with each other and watching Phineas and Ferb. It will be bedtime in a few minutes, and they are having a sleepover in Monkey Girl’s room tonight.
They can’t wait.
It’s a big deal.
Despite the fact they do it every Friday and Saturday night.
Love it.
I’m going to cuddle up with Under the Dome by Stephen King, and hope to make a good sized dent, as I feel like I’ve been reading it forever, but only in two minute snippets here and there. I’m ready to make some progress.
So, long day.
Good day.
Great day.
So, I’m at work and I get a call from the school nurse at Monkey Girl’s school.
She took a spill on the playground and cut her knee pretty badly. It was bleeding quite a bit, and was deep.
Also, the nurse wasn’t sure that she had gotten all of the gravel out.
Ick.
The nurse suggested I take her to the ER.
When I got to the school, Monkey Girl was waiting for me, and I knew, as soon as I looked at her that she was holding in the tears for the public audience. So, I chatted with the nurse, quickly, signed her out and we left.
Let’s face it…the girl has had a rough couple of days.
First the girls on the bus. Then, she finds out that Monkey in the Middle lost a charm I had given her (why she gave it to him, I’m not sure). She woke up late this morning and had to change her shirt because Monkey in the Middle gave her a big snuggly hug and got snot on her sleeve and it wouldn’t come out. And, when she fell, she got mud all over her fake pink Uggs from Target…her favorite shoes.
She deserved to let loose with a few tears.
No sooner were we in the hallway than the tears started.
I asked if it hurt, and she said “a little,” but that she was crying because she was nervous they were going to give her stitches.
Poor pumpkin cried all the way to the hospital. We held hands (a little awkward since she sits in the backseat, but it’s what you do when your baby is crying) and got there eventually.
They checked us in, gave us a room, and we waited.
The doctor came in, checked the wound, poked around a bit, declared it gravel-free and not stitch worthy, gave us a few packets of Bacitracin and stuck on a big bandage, and we were good to go.
Once she realized there would be no shots or needles, Monkey Girl was all about the smiles.
We were discharged, picked up the boys, and went to ShopRite to do the shopping for next week.
I won’t say the kids took advantage of the fact that I was exhausted, physically and emotionally but we left ShopRite with 3 boxes of PopTarts, 2 packages of ShopRite bakery cookies, a bag of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies, and a box of Entenmann’s doughnuts. (See my Grocery Goal page, for the full report on today’s trip to ShopRite).
Gotta tell you…if I have to go to the ER, this is the type of trip I’d prefer to have.
No pain, no trauma, no real injury or illness.
As for Monkey Girl…she seems to have forgotten all about it.
Ah…youth.
So, you’ll have to forgive me another non-monkey related post, but today, this is what’s on my mind.
At The Frugal Village, there is currently a conversation going on in one of the forums, surrounding whether or not people have “good dishes,” and if so, do they use it?
So, I responded, early in the thread that yes, we have good dishes.
When Real Man and I got engaged, we toyed with not registering for china and crystal. We didn’t feel like china/crystal people, and so we weren’t going to register for those items.
My mother immediately went into palpitations and said that we HAD to register for fine china and crystal. It was what people do. It certainly was what people did when she was getting married…that much I cannot argue. However, I really didn’t want to do it. Never one to do what others do just because others are doing it, I really, really didn’t want to do it.
My mom won.
So, Real Man and I registered for, and then received a ridiculous amount of place settings in Lenox china, Waterford crystal, and Sterling silver.
We bought a beautiful china cabinet, and there they sit.
Day in and day out, for the past eleven years.
An interesting thing happened, though, as I started reading the responses of others in the good china thread.
Many people didn’t have the good stuff.
Those that did?
They use it. Every day.
Someone said, “Why save it for a special occasion? Every day I spend with my family is special!”
Someone else said, “I have great memories of that china as a child…I want my kids to have the same memories.”
Another poster wrote, “Yep. We have it and we use it. Sure, we’ve chipped a few, and broken more, but you know what? It’s just a dish.”
So…
***Mom…at this point, if you read this, I beg you to turn off the computer and walk away. The rest of this post is not going to sit well with you***
…I started thinking…”Yeah! They’re right! We should use those dishes!”
If I don’t use them, they’ll sit in that china cabinet, and then I’ll die and the monkeys will fight over who doesn’t have to take them, and in the end, they’ll sell them at some fine china consignment shop.
Or…
…we start using them…often. Build some memories on the good plates, and then let the monkeys build their own when I’m gone.
Because, let’s face it…the good china is supposed to be used for the good times with special people.
Around here…
…that’s every day.
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