Protected: Quick Update on my Week

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

5 Parenting Observations

1. Bandaids with pictures/colour/patterns work better than plain bandaids.

2. If the school is calling you at work, it is probably not to tell you how brilliant and wonderful you child is being today.

3. It was probably a parent of a fussy eater who originally coined the phrase “it tastes like chicken.”

4. The tighter the budget, the longer the growth spurt.

5. Never underestimate the power of a snuggle.

On Seacrest

I admit, I watch and enjoy American Idol. I could also more easily name the list of winning American Idols than I could the Canadian Idols. But can I just say that Ryan Seacrest is really getting on my nerves this year.

I appreciate he is attempting to lighten the spirits of broken-hearted, criticized contestants. Really I do. But when he edges them on to talk back to the judges, it’s time to change the channel. No good can come of this… no good at all. I can’t imagine it helps ratings. And it only makes the contestant (should they choose to participate in the Seacrest Game of Puppetry) look obnoxious and full of themselves.

And can I briefly address the pseudo cool? I’m thinking he really doesn’t have the background at any point to address a contestant as “Bro.” Not even if they were, in fact, brothers… which I am reasonably sure they were not. And, while we’re on the topic of expressions, the way Mr. Seacrest says Randy’s ‘aa-ite’ (alright) just isn’t working for me either.

So, be comforting, call the girls ‘darling,’ and schmooze with the stars. But please, please, please stop trying to be “all that.” And stop trying to spark confrontation. Neither is entertaining. I’m just saying.

More Than One Way

Last night the children when to a Mardi Gras party hosted by the family of one of Rainbow’s friends. Friend’s father is the minister of a church and the party is part of their pre-Lent tradition.

The tasks apparently were to make noisemakers, make masks, snack (so that a queen or king could be found with a gold coin in the cake), then have a parade with the king/queen in the lead. The first order of business was to create noise makers. The children were given foil tart plates, duct tape to stick it together, feathers for adornment, something to make it rattle, yarn for streamers, and a stick for a handle. These were all to be carefully assembled and saved for the parade.

99% of the kids there made them exactly that way. Dolittle’s, in fact, looked like this…

Rainbow, however, is far too expedient to be fiddling with the delicate nature of such assembly when there is other work to be done. This, my friends, is also a perfect serviceable noisemaker:

In the end, however, as it happens, only one of the two noisemakers was paraded about the room, as it turns out the Queen of Mardi Gras was our own little Miss Expediency, who as Queen must carry a special royal noise maker. This also apparently means I am in charge of baking the cake with the golden coin next year.

Me. Bake. Alrighty…

And did I mention that this year’s cake was shaped like a castle? And did I mention that this is not the church we even attend?

Of course, I’ve already learned today, that there is more than one way way to accomplish many things. And that includes building noise makers, baking providing cakes, and welcoming Lent.

Count me in.

What’s in a name?

In the last 200 posts, exactly nine people have found this blog using Google. That’s 4.5% of traffic. And not one of those nine people was searching for “Old Blue Socks” or “Sock Girl.” Here, for your reading pleasure, are nine other ways you can apparently find this blog on google…

• showing your knickers ice skating
• she wears her socks all the time
• older granny over size
• twirling socks
• smelling boss socks
• lets see your knickers jokes
• socks 5 lists
• jellyfish august
• firemen relaxing in their socks

Now looking back over my posts in just this month alone, it would seem (whether or not I had written them in a positive light) that I could have been found eventually with such positive phrases as: “hot chocolate experience,” “necessarily successful,” or “new blessings are on the horizon” … yet instead I seem to be attracting people who are attracted to the sights of other people’s knickers and the smell of other people’s feet. I just don’t get it.

I wonder if it might be time to change my name?

Yesterday

Yesterday started out as if it would turn out to be a disaster… the kid’s school was delayed but not cancelled, Rainbow was sick, Dolittle’s fish died… all before 7am. So I got to work late, find ugent stuff waiting, and I think “well this day is off to a flying start…”

But then, for some inexplicable reason, things didn’t get any worse. In fact, they went swimmingly. It was the sort of day where you think, “hey, I should get x done” and then ten minutes after you finish x somebody comes in and says “I know you haven’t gotten to x yet, but…” Then you look and feel all superheroish for being so on the ball and handing them a completed x. Now I am the very first to admit that if I ever appear superheroish it is purely by chance and not by superlative forethought on my part. Yet this happened over and over yesterday.

Then, being the superhero that I am, I fell asleep with Rainbow at 9pm.

Now I am not naive enough to believe that the luck is actually turning positive in any real sense. I expect it is a trick of fate to lull me into a false sense of comfort just long enough for someone to have another kiniption fit on me again. In fact, the mere act of writing this post has probably turned my luck immediately. But, until then, I’ll take it good luck when I find it.

Work Orders

So there are several departments at work that do things by work order. Need paper delivered? Do a work order. Need an ad designed? Do a work order. Need your computer serviced? Again, you need a work order.

I’ve started to think about that concept… orderly methods of prioritizing and accomplishing, to be sure. But is it efficient and practical applied to real life in general? And I’ve begun to imagine what it would be like in an administrative department such as ours. Need a signature on that contract? Fill in this work order? Need a work order? Fill in this work order to fill in a work order.

And imagine if you did that at home? Want cookies and milk? Fill in this work order and I’ll add it to the que. Hugs? No can do, kiddo, till the paperwork is done.

No… while I see that there is a time and a place for rigid structure, and understand the usefulness of tracking energies expended, I fear I am doomed to remain hopelessly disorganized with my more generalized ‘to do’ lists.

And as generally unstructured as I am, will I ultimately end up where I need to go? Who knows. But will I learn to think on my feet and arrive where I’m going with a smile on my face? I hope so. That, at least, is my (albeit unstructured) plan.

Working Conditions

I took the girls to a Chinese restaurant tonight to pick up a couple of eggrolls and while we were waiting noticed a chart which listed birth years, the Chinese sign you were born under, a brief description of your personality, and your suited occupations. I, being born in a year of the tiger, am apparently suited to be a boss, race car driver, or matador.

I snickered. Matador.

“What is a matador?” inquired the girls.

“A bullfighter,” I responded.

“Yes,” Dolittle agreed, “that is silly. You really should be a race car driver.”

“Oh, yes,” added Rainbow, “because you should never be a boss.”

“Why not a boss?” I asked, as it seemed I was the only one there who was not following the logic. Did I lack leadership? Am I pushover? I had to know!

“Because,” elaborated Rainbow in that ‘duh!’ tone that children reserve for clueless parents, “bosses have to give away too much money…”

“And,” continued Dolittle, “race car drivers get to have the wind in their hair.”

So, you see, I’ve had it all wrong lately. It is not a permanent job I should be looking for. It’s not pleasant co-workers. It’s not even a job with decent coffee. It’s wind, baby. Wind.

Monday, I’m opening the windows.

Protected: Seeing Clearly

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

Cheering Up Sock Girl

Yes… a bad day can really get your knickers in a knot. But yesterday was infinitely better despite the long work day and pending migrane. But the task of cheering up Sock Girl is underway…

First, the highlight of yesterday, my brother phoned me at work from Afganistan because he thought I could use cheering up. Someone over there cheering up someone safely at their desk back home? My friends, with that kind of support system, I have nothing to complain about… I’m just saying.

So the conversation goes something like this:
(He) Hey, I heard you could use some cheering up!
(Me) Sob, sniffle, sob
(He) Don’t make me come over there and shoot you.
He’s nice like that.
(… Yeah. Ok. I made that last part up of the conversation. But he really did call to make me feel better!)

And, since I was already feeling all warm and fuzzy, I thought I’d top it off with hot chocolate… made with milk… and with whipped cream and sprinkles. And you know, while it might not have been helpful for the pending headache, it did wonders for the psyche.

I’m in a much better frame of mind now.