Hi, Cat!

Yes. I admit it has been a severe blow to my self-esteem to realize that I need HELP, y’all. I thought I had all of my projects under control. One can never juggle too many projects at once! Seriously! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with keeping busy, is all I’m saying! It’s GOOD to be productive! Right? Am I right?! RIGHT?!

Right?

In my defense, I don’t have a craft room or any place awesome like that where I can escape and just sew and knit and paint and Mod Podge like nobody’s business. Nope. So when I drag my old sewing machine out of its hiding spot in the cupboard, dust it off, and lug it to the craft table I only just broke out of storage, well, I’m going to get some things DONE, by golly! CRAFTY things! Because remembering how to thread the machine correctly so the thread doesn’t jam the needle up, and how to properly fill bobbins and whatnot is no picnic when you have accidentally totally misplaced your sewing machine manual and your machine is, like, fifteen years old and you can’t find the manual online– except for the one that might be the right one but they want you to PAY for it, which what the WHAT (?!) and no THANK you, because it’s the whole principle of the thing.

Just saying.

Honestly. I thought I could handle the knitted Christmas stockings, the Dot quilt, the Window Box quilt, the quilted Christmas stockings, the button monogram on canvas, the knitted Sweetheart socks, the Mod-Podged wooden “L”… AND the felt Advent Calendar!

*sigh*

I need help.

TGIM: Okay, okay, I’ll order some online today and we’ll get them in a week or so.

MACK: OMG! A week?! (Chandler Bing style) Oh my gosh!

TGIM: Calm down! Ain’t no thang.

CAT: Ain’t no thang, ain’t no thang… Bing bong and chickadees! Hee. “New Girl” is fuuuunny, guys.

TGIM: Just wear your glasses until they get here.

CAT: “I’m the only one who hasn’t seen it!” Seriously. Schmidt is HI-larious!

MACK: Fine. But whenever I wear my glasses to school, all my friends congratulate me for getting my nerd on.

CAT: Pee-pee and bubbles!

MACK: MOM.

CAT: Glasses. Nerd. I’m listening.

HANNAH: They’re all like “Rocking the nerd look, huh, Hannah?!”

TGIM: Heh.

MACK: Yah. That’s on you.

“I’m sorry, this is embarrassing, but I forgot your name,” she confessed. “All I can think is TGIM!”

Well. When I heard about this I was all “woo-hoo!” and proceeded to pat myself on the back. But not literally, as that would be weird, even for me. But there was pride, people! Serious pride! Because, you know, TGIM is all my creation and stuff. And this means it’s, like, officially a thing now! Right?! TGIM! You see? Do you?!

So obviously I took it as a compliment.

TGIM? Not so much.

I hate FarmVille. HATE! IT! Oh, ho ho, yes I DID just go there! Fiery passion? A thousand suns?! You know the drill.

Honestly. With its never-ending stream of Facebook updates– all the lost sheep and queen bees and stupid strawberry markets, which is not to even mention all the crazy talk about a bushel and a peck of baby corn and whatnot. It’s insanity! Sheer craziness! I mean, it’s no POKEMON, people! Good LORD! You can’t even battle other farmers or evolve your livestock into exciting new breeds of super strong livestock! That can FLY and stuff!

I mean, think about it. You’re essentially working a farm (key word being “working”) for fake money and experience points in your downtime (and don’t think we don’t notice those 4 AM status updates, weirdos). Working! During downtime! For no fiscal remuneration whatsoever. And you can’t even travel around FarmVille on your special flying Pikachu!

Well. That makes the kind of sense that… DOESN’T. I’m only saying.

(And if my kiddos happen to say I was up at 4 AM this morning downloading a special Mew Pokemon Mystery Gift to my DS from Nintendo Wi-Fi, well I WORK so I am up early anyway and they are totally lying, clearly, and I will punish them when I get home. You know. Because of the lying?)

Okay. All that said… c’mon, Mom. Admit it.

This? This right here?!

Well, it’s small moments such as this that make it all TOTALLY worth it.

*end of glass half-full moment*

Oh. Hey. It sounds dirty, but it’s NOT. Gosh.

Anyway, I’ve got TWO headlamps. And a red strobe-y bumper light thing. And two reflective vests! Which is not overkill at ALL! Because, honestly, my night run is going to be around 1:30 or 2:00 AM and smack in the middle of nowhere, so I want to make sure I’m WAY lit up, you know?

Again, that came out wrong.

I’m ready. That’s all I’m saying. Bring on the night run, Ragnar! That’s right. BRING it.

It’s last period and TGIM and I just totally ditched P.E. class!

I know, right?!

“MEMORY!” (end impromptu belting out of Memory from Cats…)

What the…?! Season 2 of The Vampire Diaries premiered last night?! Dude! At the risk of sounding geeky… okay, I’m PSYCHED.

At 1:15 p.m.:

OH. EM. GEE. Thank you, iTunes! Also, good LORD! That?! That was awesome.

Game on, indeed.

Except I’m foraging for spare change rather than carrots or shrubs. I mean, clearly. If I wanted to eat vegetation, I would have “remembered” to pack a salad! You know what I’m saying?! Am I right?! Am I? AM I RIGHT?!

Yep. Forgetting is no fun at all.

After attending a friend’s Bar Mitzvah, Tanner came home chock full of wild stories of crazy chair dances and professional DJs and AWESOMELY delicious food and, oh yeah, how much freaking MONEY his friend scored when he turned thirteen. Because money is a BIG DEAL. I mean, think! That is a WHOLE LOT of Pokemon! Am I right? Huh? Am I right?

Tanner’s sisters were (to put it mildly) super impressed, all “Nuh-uh! NUH-UH!” and “No FAIR!” And Alli? I can only imagine she’s been giving the matter of Bar Mitzvah’s tons of thought, as evidenced by a recent conversation.

Alli had been sitting in my room with me as I read, an unusual, pensive moodiness about her. Suddenly, she broke the silence. “You know, if Tanner were Jewish,” she said conversationally, “he’d be totally rich right now.”

Tanner overheard. “I know, right?” he replied.

Alli shrugged a little “Well That’s That” kind of shrug and lapsed back into her broody silence.

I looked at my youngest daughter with my “Really? That’s That?” kind of look, but she didn’t notice. She was lost in her thoughts, her brows deeply furrowed behind her glasses. And those thoughts? Those she was lost in? Were some seriously mercenary thoughts, it turns out.

“We need our own coming of age ceremony!” she burst out a few moments later.

Tanner perked up at that. Because, hello? Money? And professional DJs?! And chair dancing?! And MONEY?!

Noticing Tanner’s interest, Alli began to expatiate on her totally BRILLIANT idea. “We could call it a… a… a Har Litzfah!” she said, her eyes dreamy and distant, “And we would… um… tell jokes instead of reading scriptures! And people would give us MONEY for being FUNNY! Because HAR Litzvah?! Like har har har?!” She clapped her hands, reveling in her brilliance.

And I was all, “Ooooh! Pun SNAP!” and there was a giving and receiving of high-fives all around.

In other news, that inappropriate-yet-impossible-to-resist punning thing? Totally genetic.

(Har Litzfah. Good Lord.)

DWM Clan 2010

Smiling! Not crying!

I know, right?

Deal with my shallowness.

God bless America. And the Fallen Founding Fathers of the Freelance Fireworks Hall of Fame.

Amen.

CAT: Okay… Because that’s a completely normal thing to wonder.

ALLI: (shrugs) My mind is a mystery.

So, Alli? Not on board with the whole FLE thing.

The first afternoon she walked into the house with Hannah and TGIM and silently handed me a colorful packet that contained a few sample feminine hygiene products and brochures with titles like “A Girl’s Guide to HAPPY Periods” and “Talking With Your Daughter About Puberty” and “It’s a HAPPY Thing!”

“I’m supposed to ask you about your experience, you know, goingthroughpubertyandstuff,” she explained with a strained, almost shell-shocked expression on her face as she handed me an FLE checklist I needed to sign.

My first thought, naturally, was… it’s a HAPPY thing? Okay, I dare the author of that pamphlet to say that to a woman during a few key days every month! I’m only saying. Honestly.

TGIM, who was sitting across the room, asked, “Hey, did I ever tell you guys how Papa Neal taught me about sex?”

“YES!” we all yelled.

Undeterred, TGIM continued, “He said to me, ‘Son, have you seen the bulls with the cows out in the field?’ I said, ‘Yes, Dad,’ and he patted me on the back and said–”

“‘Good talk, son’!” we yelled in unison.

“Oh,” TGIM said, eyes wide with feigned innocence, “have I told that story before?”

Hannah, ignoring her father, asked, “So, did they make you yell ‘vagina’?” She rolled her eyes. “They made us yell ‘vagina’.”

“Yes,” Alli said and shuddered dramatically. “And penis, too. It was disturbing.”

I did my best to assure her that using those words should not be disturbing, that they are just words to describe parts of the body, like “mouth” or “knee” or “elbow,” but I must admit that the vision of a room full of fifth graders yelling “vagina” and “penis” over and over again was a bit disturbing. You know, just a scoche.

As the week went by, a pattern emerged. Alli would approach me after school and, with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, hand me yet another parent-child FLE conversation checklist to sign. I would gamely buzz through the questions, Alli would stare glassily ahead, I’d sign the checklist, and with a gusty sigh of relief Alli would shove it into her backpack and run off to play.

Friday afternoon Alli came home and told me that they had discussed making babies in FLE, which, first of all, gross, and second of all, GROSS. “I mean, the pictures, Momma? WAY too detailed. I get it! I did NOT need to see that!”

Hannah patted her on the back. “I know, right?” she agreed with sisterly camaraderie.

That night there were no more checklists. Yes! Happy day, FLE was behind us! We had made it through FLE relatively unscathed! Yay, us! So there we were, sitting on the bed in my room, just playing… a game, NOT Pokemon or anything, just a normal, age-appropriate, not-Pokemon game. The companionable silence of a mother and daughter sitting and playing said game which was not Poke– Okay! It was Pokemon! Soul Silver! FINE! Shut up!– was interrupted by a sudden revelation from Alli.

“Hey, Momma?”

I paused my game. “Hmm?” I looked over at her and I was immediately intrigued by her serious expression.

“You know what I’m going to do when I grow up?”

Oooh! Life choice! Fun! “What?” I asked, curious if she was still dead set on being an actress and/or astronaut.

“ADOPT.”

Not to even mention that sometimes, so surprised am I by the sudden, primal outburst or the sheer violence of expression that I unintentionally snort or giggle, and hey, I just do NOT appreciate being forced into behaving in such a juvenile manner. I’m only saying. So cut that crap out! Hee. I said “crap.” (See?! With the juvenile behavior?!) Just think of others before you go all Serena Williams while doing your business, okay?! GOSH.

Oh, to be clear, I am only referring to these types of outbursts in PUBLIC restrooms. What you grunt/groan while doing your business at home is totally, well… your business. Go crazy. Get down with your primal grunting self! Oh, except if you have house guests, obviously, in which case I would advise strongly against this type of behavior. Unless it is actually your intention to make said house guests SUPER uncomfortable. Then… ch-check! Mission accomplished! So you may want to rein it in– just a scoche!– when there’s company over. But otherwise, knock yourself out.

In other news, I am often peculiar and judgmental.

CHUCK! IS! BACK!

Yes! It is absolutely true. I mean, today is March 1, so, there you go. It IS March 1, right? RIGHT?!

Right.

I don’t want to come on too geeky, but… okay, I’m psyched!

Check it.

*happy dance*

In other news, your toupee looks as if it is trying to make a run for it. Let it go, man. Just… let it go.

Yes. I’ve heard the criticisms. But to me, this is a heartfelt remake of the original USA For Africa version, and for a selfless cause, to boot! Sure, they could have written/produced a new song, but hey, there’s a reason this one’s a classic. I’m only saying. Plus, the rap portion is pretty fantastic, and Wyclef Jean singing the song as translated into Creole? Beautiful.

(Although I do have to wonder how many people were like, “DUDE. What the hell does ‘hi-uh-tee’ mean?!” Because I am sometimes prone to strange and random wonderings?)

As a side note, I will admit, the posthumous Michael Jackson tribute almost turned me off– due to the Singing Along With Video Footage Of Dead People Totally Gives Me The Wiggins factor? which is MY issue, clearly!– but I decided I liked the inclusion after I overheard TD explaining to TGIM how seamlessly they were able to incorporate MJ’s part: “Yeah, see, they had some lady dressed up to LOOK like Michael Jackson, and she sang with him.”

Poor Janet.

In any event, my kids were moved by the video, especially the footage from Haiti, so I bought the album at iTunes. I figure it’s just one more little way we can give hope to the people of Haiti, and to the world.

Think about it.

TGIM: Okay, while we’re waiting for our food, let’s talk about something. How about taxes? Who can tell me a situation in which you would have to pay taxes?

Allison: Thanks for the strawberry, T! (to me) Oooh, I bet that’s what his girlfriend will call him… “T”! Because it’s a really good nickname?

Tanner: Well, she wouldn’t be my girlfriend for long.

Cat: Really? Why not, T? Huh, T? What’s the big deal, T? Huh, T? Huh? T?

Allison: I hope our drinks come soon. I’m quenched!

Hannah: Tanner with a girlfriend? Ha.

TGIM: Nobody? All right, maybe a different topic. How about the weather? We could discuss the weather. Or global warming?

Cat: Sweetie, I think you meant to say “parched.”

Allison: No, because I’m REALLY thirsty, Momma.

TGIM: Fact: There is currently snow in every state in the U.S.

Hannah: Tanner is my big, strong potato man!

(giggles from the girls)

Cat: Um, what?

Allison: It’s an inside joke. Ha ha! (off my look) Oh, don’t worry, Momma… it’s VERY funny to us!

TGIM: Except possibly Hawaii. Okay, every state in the continental U.S.

Tanner: Those stone faces on the wall are freaking me out. Are the faces on the wall freaking you out? Because they are freaking me out.

Cat: Hey! Stop drinking all my Diet Coke! Who’s drinking my Diet Coke?! Stop it right now!

Hannah: Wow! This cheesecake is GOOD! I feel happy! I love this place!

TGIM: (paying the bill) Well, guys, there goes our food budget for the week! Yep, it looks like we’ll be eating a lot of beans and rice for a while.

Allison: No, because it’s Friday night, and Sunday is the start of a new week, so… I think we’re good, right, Momma? I mean, we’ll just shop for good food on Sunday, right? So… you know what I’m saying?

TGIM: (standing to leave) I know, let’s talk about this new show I discovered called Mantracker…

Hannah: Is that the one with the guy with the rope?

Allison: Oh yeah! Mantracker! I was very disappointed that he didn’t rope that guy.

TGIM: Me, too.

Cat: I have no idea what you guys are talking about.

Tanner: The macaroni and cheese here is NOT good. I’m just saying.

Yep. A night out with the DWM family! Chock full of food, and fun, and non sequiturs. And quite often, just a little bit surreal.

My Buddy Boy

Hannah Hugging TGIM

Cat's Chin and Allison

Seriously. The Federal Government in DC is shut down– closed for bidness, y’all!– and you would think that I would be totally enjoying the fact that I am free– albeit stuck at home, but still, free– for who knows how long, but NO. Instead, I feel, I don’t know, well… guilty. I know, right?! About what, you may ask? I don’t even know, I might answer! It’s craziness! Sheer craziness! Honestly. What’s with all the guilt?! I mean, it isn’t MY fault the U.S. Office of Personnel Management opted to close down all Federal agencies in the Washington DC area. It’s not!

That’s it. I’m jumping aboard the happy, carefree, snow day(s) train, starting right now. Feeling good. Enjoying the blizzard. Choo-choo!

Freak. And there’s the guilt again.

In order to alleviate said guilt, I will now post something of value on DWM. A Flickr slideshow of Photos Past, if you will. Because that is PRODUCTIVE.

Anyway, photos from the past. Back when my kiddos were all cute and pre-preteen and babylike and whatnot.

And I mean this… aaaaaaw! (Thanks to TGIM for the scans. You = Awesome.)

(Keep bustin’.)

In any event, my bedside clock tells me it’s two in the morning and, hello? I’m wide awake. WIDE. AWAKE. Aaaaand now I can’t seem to get “Batdance” out of my head, thanks a WHOLE LOT, “Chuck” and Prince!

What now?

(This town needs an enema!)

Oooh, I say donut run! Donuts! Dunkin Donuts is open 24 hours, right? Just gotta grab my Uggs and some cash…. gotta beat the snow storm and whatnot… it’s just down the road, no one will even miss me… mmmm, cinnamon cake donuts…

(Batman!)

As it turns out, sleep deprivation? Not my friend. Clearly.

(STOP!)

So TGIM’s youngest sister, Candice, and her husband are living in Manhattan for the next three months while he attends training for his new job with the devil. I meant to say Goldman Sachs. And just so we’re clear, I already asked her if she had ever read The Firm and she assured me she had indeed, and I was all, “Okay, then,” and she was like, “Okaaaaaay…” so I wash my hands of it.

Anyway, Manhattan! Home of the Broadway Theatre district! And other noteworthy stuff, of course— such as Wall Street and the United Nations, not to mention cultural landmarks like the Met, where one might stumble upon world-famous Vermeer paintings or Bernini sculptures or Gossip Girl’s Queen Bee and her entourage eating their lunch on the steps!— but mainly, Manhattan has Broadway.

And Candice lives in Manhattan, albeit temporarily. Like, right there in the Broadway Theatre district, oh, yes, a wonderful place of joy and joyness that people visit in order to attend theatrical performances such as Wicked and West Side Story and The Lion King and Mamma Mia! and the like.

Do you see where I am going with this? Do you? Do you?

If not, allow me to clarify. See, we totally miss Candice and, come to think of it, I have never even met her husband, so we absolutely must visit them in Manhattan. You know, in NYC? Where the Broadway lives?! The whole Broadway aspect being secondary to the hanging-out-with-family thing, I might add. Clearly. Because family is IMPORTANT.

So TGIM was checking some online sources for tickets to, say, Wicked or perhaps The Lion King— shows we could attend as a FAMILY (which, as stated previously, is super important)—when he stumbled across a newer show which upon first glance looked somewhat promising. From the other room I heard him yell, “Hey, Cat! Ever heard of Rock of Ages?”

I had not, and told him so.

“It’s some sort of rock musical! It has classic rock songs from the 80s!”

While I was trying to think of a zingy comeback to him throwing the word “classic” all willy-nilly-like in front of “rock songs from the 80s,” TGIM must have clicked on a video clip because I heard the opening bars of “Don’t Stop Believing” blaring from the vicinity of the computer. Not the Glee version, mind you, but the old-school version. The arena-rock version. Naturally, I started boppin’ my head to the beat. Because I am cool that way, a’ight?! Shut up. I AM cool. Plus, Journey?! I DARE you not to bop to Journey! Take THAT, haters!

Anyway, the first verse began, “Just a small town girl…”

I may or may not have scared the living daylights out of my husband when I– perhaps!– came tearing in from the other room, wild-eyed and screaming, “HEY! HEEEEEEEEEY! That’s Constantine! COOOONSTANTIIINE!” Maybe that’s how it happened. It’s all fuzzy. It’s possible I stood up too quickly or something. That would account for the hyperventilating, right? I’m just saying it’s a BLUR. And TGIM lies a lot, so you totally cannot ask him.

In any event, guess who was on the computer screen? Singing and whatnot! Just guess who! Constantine Maroulis, that’s who! Yes! My Secret Greek Idol Luvah, right there on my computer, totally rocking the eyeliner and the pretty highlights and the greasy hair and acting all smoldery and shizz. YOU know. “Doing his thing”? Er, “dawg”? While singing JOURNEY! I mean, was it my BIRTHDAY?!

Honestly. It’s a wonder I didn’t faint on the spot.

(Thanks again to Mrtl for the t-shirt. You still ROCK.)

Sadly, I didn’t see Constantine bust out any of his legendary ki-YAH! kicks or awesome crouch-landings in the clip, but hey… one can dream, y’all. One can dream.

So… wow. My sweet Constantine. On Broadway. BROADfreakingWAY! Who knew, back when he graced the American Idol audience with the rocker screeches, the camera lovin’, the hair tossing, the duck-lip pouting, the cheesy grins, and the somewhat polarizing KISS tongues, that my Secret Greek Idol Luvah had the star power to make it to Broadway?! It’s madness! Who knew?!

Oh, wait. That’s right. I did. But I won’t say I told you so. Much. (I told you so!)

*sigh*

In the spirit of full disclosure, I do not see a scenario in which I could convince TGIM and the kiddos to go see this musical with me, you know, as a FAMILY, over shows such as Wicked or The Lion King. But still… good on you, Constantine! Good on you.

(Call me.)

5th Generation Ipod Nanos (with video capture capability) ROCK in a covert ops situation. Just so you know. They’re just so… unobtrusive! Honestly. No one even suspected a thing! At all! So, awesome covertly obtained video footage will follow. Oh, yes. It WILL follow. And they’re gooooood, yo? Because, well, Hannah simply ROCKED Gertrude!

Uh-oh, I feel the motherly pride kicking in again. Gosh… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry…

Never one to let a teaching moment pass me by—because, nerdly?—I said, “You know, hardcore knitters call that frogging.”

Paige stopped unraveling and looked at me. “What?”

“You know,” I nodded towards her quickly dwindling bunny sweater, “unraveling your stitches when you mess up. That’s frogging.”

Paige paused, looked at her work, then me, and said, “Frogging, eh?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Why?”

Ooooh! Object lesson! Object lesson! I am SUCH a fan of the object lesson.

“Start pulling out the stitches again,” I instructed her. “And since the term frogging sort of gives this impression of, like, way enthusiastic unraveling, really go for it, okay?”

With a shrug, Paige began to unravel her knitting again.

“Good, Paige!” I shouted, which may have been overkill, in retrospect. “Rip it… rip it…RIIIIIP IIIT…!”

Naturally, we got all giggly at this point. I mean, we WERE drinking caffeinated beverages, after all, so there was that whole caffeine-induced giddiness factor in play. I’m only saying.

We may or may not have spent the rest of the afternoon drinking caffeinated beverages, knitting and crocheting stuff, watching the movie Australia, and every so often croaking, “Rip it! RIP IT!” as we exuberantly frogged our respective projects. Maybe. Honestly, it’s all a total blur now. I guess we may never know for certain.

In other news, knitters are total geeks.