Do Chinese Kids Try to Dig Their Way to America?

My family was sitting down at a restaurant having lunch. The question was actually stated more like this:

“When Chinese kids go out in their back yards, and they start to dig a hole, do their Mothers yell out the back door for them to stop digging a hole to America? Do they use a shovel made in the USA?”

I bet that you are wondering right about now, what prompted one of the kids to ask this question. Unless you were John or Kelly :o) They would know that this question did NOT come from one of the kids but from my very own Husband. And I don’t have to wonder where THAT memory came from. I can see his Mom in my mind’s eye. She’s probably telling him to put the dirt BACK in the hole. I wouldn’t presume to know what she was thinking, but if I had a child as prone to mischief (euphemism judiciously used here) as he was, I probably would have just told him to go ahead and dig it deep enough so that nobody would find his body when I came over to fill it in over his corpse.

The Husband is one of 7 kids. As a matter of fact he is #6. I hope he doesn’t mind me posting this here but I gotta tell you that I’m SURE his parents have attained Saint status. Especially his Mom.

My husband says he was kicked out of Sunday school at a very early age and many people can’t imagine why any church would do this (especially when he tells the story with such a straight face) but then you’d have to know some of the other stories that came out of his childhood.

His mother banned him from going into any stores for about 7 years because he would hide in the clothes racks from her. He wouldn’t come out when she called or got worried. Then one day he did that and then went to a store manager and told him that his mother had left him. Guess that was the last straw. I don’t blame her. I would have blown a gasket.

He once carved one of his brother’s names on his brother’s bed, just so he could see him talk his way out of it. Admittedly, his brother could talk himself from a hubcap to a car in very little time (he had an amazing gift) but this was a pretty mean blow. I was so happy when my husband told me that although his brother didn’t rat on him to his parents, he beat the snot out of him later. :o) Don’t you just love to see justified paybacks really do happen sometimes?

My husband really has too many historic family events to ever get them all in writing but I have to tell you that he also broke a different brother’s ribs with a wrist rocket once but then again, Karma really does happen. His brother returned the favor by pushing him down a set of stairs sometime later. The landed on both of his hands trying to break his fall. Instead he broke both his thumbs. At the same time. No opposing digits working. Imagine, if you will, trying to button a button, zipping a zipper, picking up and holding silverware, a cup, etc. without opposing digits. Yep, Karma at work.

Nowadays, my husband calls up to apologize to his Mom. Often. It’s that Karma thing coming around again. The pre-teen and teenage years of his own children. I can hear the laughter of fate in my mind…

QOTD: “It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.” Anonymous

(Originally posted on 30 Jul 2006)

Planting A Garden To Watch It Grow...

Our youngest daughter who is now a newly minted 8 year old. She has been longing to plant flowers ever since her 2nd grade class grew some in paper cups at school. But her dream has become a nightmare for me.  I would have to help her.  Okay, I have to confess I'm afraid my inbred death-ray glare that activates on the sight of anything green would render her little flower garden to ashes. Then she would be standing there with tears streaming down her little face asking:

"Why did you kill them, Mommy?"

I did NOT get my grandpa's green thumb gene. Pretty much everyone else in my family can grow things and I don't mean just grow, I mean GROW. Like with prize winning flowers or tomatoes and such. ::Hanging head in shame:: I am SUCH a failure in this department. And it isn't as if I haven't tried. I have books on gardening that tell you how easy it is. I have books with beautiful pictures that show which plants grow in what climate. I have the tools of the trade. Trowels, claw rakes, weed pullers, knee pads, and darn it I even have the GLOVES. But believe me, plants take one look at me and drop dead of fright!

Needless to say we have been putting this off but yesterday we were waiting in the Dr.'s office for our turn and she has recently added a LARGE geranium that has obviously come from somewhere other than a greenhouse nursery. Erin zoomed in on it the moment we walked through the door.

She smelled the flowers. "Mommy, don't they smell wonderful?" 

(I don't particularly care for the smell but they were not overpowering.) "Yes, honey."


"Mommy, you have to feel the flowers! They are soooooo soft."

Silence. (Which is unusual for my chatterbox) So I look up from magazine and she is staring at the plant.

"Isn't it beautiful?" 

I could tell she was really longing to adopt it and take it home. It then occurred to me to get her a house plant she could put in her bedroom window.

"Why don't we go and buy a plant for your room? Then you could learn how to take care of one before we get a entire garden?" 

Her face lights up like a Christmas Tree.

I had to add here that she would have to be responsible for it. She would have to learn how much to water it and to not overdo it. She would have to talk to it. I remember this part from my sister Suzanne, who has the greenest thumb, second only to our Grandpa.

"Talk to it? Why?"

"Plants liked to be talked to. It's a scientifically proven fact." I told her.

Erin looked at the office plant and asked, "What do you say to it?"

"Just tell it about your day. Talk about how we went to the mall and got your nails painted. Tell it what color. Tell it what you had for lunch."

"OK"

So she starts talking to this plant. I went back to reading the magazine but I'm listening with half an ear because she is sitting on the floor right next to my chair.

"I got my nails painted today. See. It is called Electric Pink. I also have flowers on two of them. The flowers are white. I had cheese pizza for lunch. You have very pretty pink flowers. Some of you are babies. Some of you are teenagers. Some of you are Mommies and Daddies. And Uncles, and grandparents and....."

I'm smiling at this. She is pointing all over the plant as she talks. But then she suddenly turns to me and whispers, 

"Mom, what do I call the really old ones? The ones with all the wrinkled petals? I don't want to hurt their feelings."

That took me a minute.

I whispered back, "They are called mature."

"OK", she says to me and then turns to the plant again. "And some of you are really mature."

She continued on for a few more minutes but but this time I am really trying not to start laughing. I guess I am still in the Mommy category and not the mature or really mature category in her eyes. Ah, that made my day.

QOTD: "Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk to my gardener, I'm convinced of the opposite." Bertrand Russell, British, 3rd Earl Russell, philosopher, logician, mathematician, historian, socialist, pacifist and social critic (1872-1970) [In 1950, Russell was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, "in recognition of his varied and significant writings in which he champions humanitarian ideals and freedom of thought.]

 (Originally posted 29 July 2006)

Dinner Conversation At Our House...

Nicole, "I learned in biology today that if you get shot in the abdomen you should stick your finger in the hole so you don't end up with an extra nostril."

What do they teach in biology class these days?

Husband, "I believe you are talking about a sucking chest wound where you are losing air through a hole in the lung. Believe me you would be better off putting the cellophane wrapper from cigarette box or even your driver's license against the wound and wrapping it tight to seal off the wound."

Me, "I've heard that using a tampon in the entry hole of a bullet wound will help seal it until you can get the victim to the hospital. I imagine it depends on the kind of wound though."

Danielle, "Guys don't carry tampons around."

Me, "Maybe they should? Might help them get in touch with their feminine side."

The Husband is giving me his NO WAY IN [fill in the blank] look...

Erin, "He'd have to change it every day. Do guys know how to change tampons?" 

 At eight years old she has a very basic understanding of what a tampon is and what it is used for but darn you should have seen the most serious look on her face. I had a really hard time, not laughing.

Husband, "I've heard that you should NEVER trust anything that bleeds for a week and still lives."

**Roll of eyes** 

So I try to change the subject in interest of peace and family harmony.

Me to Husband, "Do you know how long a cat's life is on average?"

Husband, "Depends on if he get's up on the counter again." 

(This makes a little more sense when you know that one of our cat's names is "Cat".... or "Catoid" or if he is being particularly obnoxious "Catastrophe". He is also the one who often has to go into the feline witness protection program... usually because the husband has witnessed him clawing, pooping or peeing where he shouldn't be so he has to hide until the husband cools down.)

Sigh. Someone else's turn to change the subject....

Danielle, "Dad, I heard the greatest pickup line today at school... Did you sprain anything falling down from heaven?"

Husband, "If you EVER fall for that line, I will personally 'sprain' you! And just so you know the best pickup line is... I love your dress... it would look great on my bedroom floor."

Danielle, "That can't be the best pickup line. I wouldn't fall for it."

Husband, "I was pretty sure you were smarter than that. I think the point is to not bother with guys who use pickup lines. He is obviously trying for a quantity of relationships... not quality and who wants to be one more unmemorable sucker?"

Tip to our daughters... If you want to meet someone, just strike up a conversation. If you are nervous, just start by asking for the time. Don't let someone insult your intelligence by giving you a slick as snot attitude pick up line. It only shows how truly expendable you are to them.

And never underestimate a father's inquisitiveness about potential future boyfriends... As much as you girls are "Daddy's girls" and have him wrapped around your little fingers.... it is doubtful that any boy will pass muster without learning from your Daddy himself, just what would happen if said boy didn't adhere strictly to the rules of gentlemanly behavior.

That said, I promise to try my best to keep him from pulling out the big guns or worse, the photo album...

QOTD: "When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they're not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of cap-less shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They're upset because they've gone from supervisor of a child's life to a spectator. It's like being the vice president of the United States." Erma Bombeck, American Humorist (1927-1996)

 (Originally posted 2 Mar 2007)

Noah, How Long Can You Tread Water...

As the kids get older, I’ve discovered a stage in which I find it extremely hard to believe that I ever went through. (although my mother assures me that I wasn't unique enough to have skipped this part of childhood) The stage in which I speak of is the act of God that it takes to get them to take showers regularly without an argument...

First of all, what’s up with that? I’ve tried to explain to our children calmly and rationally (my first mistake) that as your hormones kick in they make your physical form excrete body odors. Not to mention bodily fluids like sweat and other physical changes that we shall restrain ourselves from embarrassing our offspring with at this moment. So I try to convince them them that they need to take a shower EVERY day to stay clean, healthy, sweet smelling and in good working order. This reasoning never works. You'd think I would have learned this by now.

Ok, then as a parent you persevere onward to what happens when said offspring still argue about taking a shower (or bath for that matter).

"Nobody will want to stand down wind from you. You will get teased by all the kids," you advise them.

"You will acquire 'The Funk'", you warn them. "The skin irritation that comes from not washing will itch and when you scratch it, it can become infected", you explain.

"This and other rashes and/or infections usually occurs on the face, behind ears, under the arms and all those other dark and sweaty places on your body that we will then have to discuss... in detail and at length... with your doctor..."

Does this reasoning/pleading/threatening with an adolescent pre-teen or teen work?

Nope. Sometimes it makes me wonder if it is just Darwin's theory at work...

Finally, the last thing you try as a parent is to assert your command authority...

“You Vill go Und you Vill take a showVer NOW! Und you Vill wVash EVERYWHERE or I Vill do the scrVubbing for you! I don’t care HOW old you are!”

You’d think I were dragging them to the gallows, asking them to submit to the tortures of the damned, demanding they have a sex change operation!

I have also discovered that at some point in a child's developmental process, this situation changes... Time to do the Happy Snoopy Dance, right?

WRONG!

Now you get one of your teens into the shower. You hear the water start and you start feeling like you can start to relax. This wasn't so bad you tell yourself...

10 minutes later, the shower is still going.

15 minutes later you tap on the door.

“Are you all right? Did you fall in?”

“No, I’m washing my hair.” 

15 minutes and they haven’t washed their hair yet? Ok, I won’t complain. Pick your battles my sister always says. They are, after all, in the shower. Mission accomplished, right?

20 minutes…..25 minutes…another tap on the door…. Time to be encouraging but firm...

“You need to wrap it up and get out of the shower. There are others in the house who have to take a shower.”

From the bowels of the steam filled room (you know this because the steam is now seeping out from under the door!) you hear, 

“I’m just rinsing off.”

JUST rinsing OFF? Enough is enough.

“I’m going down to turn the hot water off at the heater. You have about 30 seconds before I get down to the basement and you get ice water!”

Believe me, I now get to hear how it was MY idea that said offspring takes a shower. I believe my answer to that was that I have more surface area on my body and even I can soap up, wash hair, shave legs and underarms, scrub the heels of my feet, rinse off, dry off, moisturize every square inch of my lumpy body, give myself a manicure, pedicure, blow dry my hair, put on full battle makeup, and dress (including hose, shoes and jewelry) in the time it takes one of them to take a QUICK shower!

Be careful what you wish for...

Now, as it happens, in our house we have a tankless hot water system. Which means the water is heated on demand and it is loverly! You never run out of hot water. Which is great for my husband and I but has spoiled the kids. When Rachel had gone to my friend Kelly’s house for a week, I didn’t even think to warn her. They have a water tank which our daughter promptly emptied leaving everyone else in the house without a drop of hot water!!!! I'm soooo sorrry Kel!

As an aside and since we are on this subject I want to touch on one last point. The amount of stuff that accumulates in the shower stall...

We have two bathrooms in our house. Count them…TWO! One upstairs, one downstairs. The downstairs is a full bathroom and the upstairs is a ¾ bath and there are always fights about the kids wanting to use the shower stall. Ok, we have learned to pick our battles (or we at least try). If we can get them to take a shower, I don’t much care which bathroom they use…..

Except now I only have about a six inch square place to stand in the shower. Consider this…we have FIVE daughters. Three of whom will only take showers upstairs. So, in essence, 5 of us use that shower. 5 of us who like DIFFERENT shampoos, conditioners, body wash, shaving cream (for the ladies), buffs, back scrubbers, etc. Can you see the picture forming in your mind of this situation? (it's not much better in the downstairs bathroom for some reason...)

I have often wondered if God had this problem (at least in part) with Noah and that he was only trying to do what all good parents do….teach their children the lesson of “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.” Or maybe as comedian Bill Cosby showed in his skit about Noah, maybe God was just as exasperated and frustrated as most parents.  [Anyone that has kids or is even thinking about having kids needs to hear Bill Cosby's truly priceless Noah's Ark skit on YouTube @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMH_uVu2Acs and then there is a script of this infamous skit HERE so you can quote him!]

QOTD: “If dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!” Charles Lamb, English Essayist (1775-1834) (used pseudonym Elia) Lamb's Suppers (vol. II, last chapter)

(Originally posted on 6 Aug 2006)

Questions Only Daddy Can Answer...

Ah, more wonderful conversation from the dinner table. There really needs to be a warning that drinking or eating anything at our dinner table may not be consumed in the manner nature intended.

Rachel asked her father very carefully and slowly, wanting to pronounce the word(s) just right so that he could give her a definition of SEX TENT. I looked quickly to my husband's face and I can tell that the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them...

"A carnival tent with lots of whoopie cushions?"

"Dad!!!!" chorused the kids.

"What? Where did you see that written?"

It took me a few minutes to catch my breath. Then I said,

"Honey, I think she meant SEXTANT, as in navigation equipment."

(Rachel has been reading alot of pirate books lately.)

"OOOOHHHHH! Well then NO, that has nothing to do with clowns, midgets or animals performing lewd acts."  

OK, this time I gave the husband 'The Look'. You who have husbands will know which 'look' I am talking about. Mine said:

"These are your DAUGHTERS that you are teaching your brand of twisted humor! They are really not old enough for this yet!"

So my husband relented and explained in very simple, graphic terms what a sextant is and how it is used, what the history of it etc. I love these discussions because I always learn something new and I know he would be a great history teacher. He really knows how to bring a subject alive.

So it comes time for my turn of the "So what happened in your world today?" and I tell them about the huge flock of wild turkeys that take up our yard every summer. Now I am almost deaf in one ear and the other is not that great so I normally do not hear the turkeys gobble, but for some reason they were really loud that day. I heard the air horn of a semi on the main road (we live on a corner) so I looked out to see what was up. There were no other vehicles around so I figured he had just done it to scare the turkeys away from the road. I continued on with the chores.

The turkeys, however, didn't calm down. They were loud for quite a while. Eventually Erin wandered into the kitchen and looked out the window.

"Hey Mom, there is something in the road."

I looked, and sure enough, one of our neighbors had stopped to pull a wild turkey off the pavement. The other turkeys by this time had wandered to the field on the other side of the road.

So I told this story at the table and then wondered aloud whether the turkeys had just been warning each other and maybe that was why they had been so loud. The husband, of course, had to do his OWN rendition...

"Henrietta, get away from that road! Henrietta? Henrietta? Where'd she go? Henrietta, get up off that pavement right now! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times....don't ever play chicken with the traffic! Get up I tell you...I have heard the "Why did the turkey cross the road joke" a million times! You DO NOT need to demonstrate! Hey guys, Henrietta ain't moving...you don't think she....gulp....is DEAD? OH NOOOOO, dead turkey in the middle of the road, dead turkey in the middle of the road....Yes indeed Honey, that is what they were screaming all afternoon!"

We were all dying. Needless to say, we did not have a hot meal by the time it got eaten....

QOTD: "I hate turkeys. If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. Theres's TURKEY Ham, TURKEY bologna, TURKEY pastrami. Someone needs to tell the TURKEY, man, just be yourself." Mitch Hedberg, American Comedian (1968-2005)

(Originally posted 6 Sep 2006)