Evilpigs

Gymnastics woes

2012-01-31T13:32:00.000-06:00

The Munch is having a set back at gymnastics. She's about to move to Level 5. In Level 5, you're required to jump to the high bar. Can she do it? Yes. Problem: She has fallen off twice and it has basically scared the living crap out of her.

The precursor to jumping to the high bar, is a glide kip. Can she do it? Yes, but only at home. She has not, up to this point, done it at gym. I know she can do it; her coaches know she can do it. They spot her with ONE FINGER and she does it, yet all but refuses to do it herself. After gym last night, her coach confronted her about it--she asked if she was scared to kip for some reason. Clairey immediately started crying. She said she was scared to kip because if she does it, then she knows she'll have to jump to the high bar and she's scared. [Let me tell you--her coach is freakin' AMAZING. She has more patience than I. She's going to be a brilliant mother one day.] Clairey's coach hugged her and loved on her, and told her that it's okay to be scared--that if she's not ready to move to Level 5, then that's okay--she can stay at Level 4. Clairey said okay, and we left.

We were bringing home a teammate of Clairey's, and she told Clairey that she knows Clairey can do it, and that she's a great gymnast. We dropped her off, and as soon as that door shut, Clairey started crying again. "I don't WANT to be Level 4!! I want to be Level 5!!"
"But you HAVE to do a jump to high bar in Level 5," I said.
"But I'm scared! I'm going to break my neck!"

Come to find out, the last 2 times she's fallen, she thought she broke her neck. And, she landed in a way that the wind was knocked out of her. That scares me as an adult--i'm sure, at 8, that it scared the bejeezus out of her.

She continued to cry. She wouldn't eat dinner--just ate crackers and cheese, and cried them into a nasty glob of tears and drool. She finally calmed down in the shower, and i just told her straight up:
"Listen, if you are not ready to move to Level 5--if you're not ready to jump to high bar--then I'm totally cool with it. You can take another year at Level 4, then move to Level 5 next year, okay? I promise you, I'm absolutely, 100% okay with it. I'm so proud of you, and i know when you're ready, you'll do it." And I looked at her--with her sweet, little, calloused hands in mine.
"You promise, mommy?"
"Yes, Munch, I promise."
"Okay...I want to be Level 5."

This kid. I swear.

"Are you SURE?" I asked. "REALLY SURE?"
"Yep. Pinky swear."

If you have an 8-year old, you know the severity of the 'pinky swear.' I got the pinky swear. And a bonus 'fist-bump-explosion.'

I told her that she needed to talk to her coach about it. She said she'd rather write a letter.

I love how she says she will "fockes" (focus). :)

HOME!

2012-01-25T08:09:00.001-06:00

I just got back from Vegas. I was there for 3 days...left Sunday, came home Tuesday--so 2.5 days. However, I hadn't seen the girls since Friday, when their dad came to pick them up. To say i missed them is an understatement. I'm a homebody--I hate being away from my family. However, my dear friend, Michelle, was in Vegas with me--and we're in the same boat, so that always makes it tolerable. We spent a good portion of our time looking at pictures of our kids, and fawning over how cute they are. We are ridiculous. I know.

It was also a great time--I was there for work, so I got to hang out and spend some time with the people i've worked with over the last 6.5 years, and met many, many new faces! As always, the company spared no expense--we were treated well, and spoiled rotten. If I were a 20-something, single woman, with a penchant for booze, I would never want to return home. But, even being a late 30-something, married woman, with an appreciation for the mass amount of $$ that goes into PROVIDING free booze, I had a great time. Love my company...really, I do. Not many people can say that.

Anyways....I'm tucking The Munch into bed last night, and she was all up in my face. Which, is normal, but when she hasn't seen me for several days, it's really bad. I asked, "What are you doing?"
"Smelling you."
"Do I stink?"
"No, you smell like...mommy. And I missed you."

Eau de Mommy. It's all the rage.

"How was Las Vegas, mommy? Did you miss me?"
"Of COURSE I missed you. I missed you every day. Vegas was fun, but it's really smoky."
[look of surprise] "People are ALLOWED TO SMOKE THERE???!!!"
"YES. Inside the hotels even."
[Look of disgust.] "What did you do?"
"Oh, we had meetings, and some parties. Last night, we went to a club on the roof. The roof OPENED and fake snow fell in. It was really cool, but really cold."
"Oooooo....was it fun?"
"Yes, it was fun. But it was really loud."
"Why?"
"Because there was a live band. And when there's a live band, they always make it very, very loud."
"Were they Mexican?"
"Um....no."
"Oh, I only like loud music when it's Mexican music. Like when you go to a nice restaurant."
"What?"
"You know. Like when you go to a nice restaurant, like Rico's, and there's a Mexican band. There's 3 of them and the lady sings nice. Yep, I only like loud Mexican music."

Oh, this kid.

The birds and bees and...growling?

2012-01-21T15:50:00.000-06:00

As soon as Jenna stepped off the bus yesterday, she locked eyes with me and started bawling. Jenna, all of the sudden, is very emotional about things. It's weird--she's usually not that type of kid, but recently, she's a sobbing mess. I blame it on hormones.

I got she and Clairey inside the house, and Jen just turned and clung to me, sobbing some more. "WHAT is wrong, Jen?" I asked. Jenna tried to talk, but was practically heaving, so I looked at Clairey. "A girl on the bus was talking about the s-word. To ME," she said, very matter-of-factly. I immediately thought, "What, really, is there to say about shit?" Alas, I was wrong. "Shit?" I asked.
"NO."
"UM...shut-up?"
"MOoooommmm!!!" and then she whispered, "sex."
"Oooohhhhh...I see."

And here, my brain starts spinning---trying to recall what each of the girls know about sex. Jenna was still heaving, but managed to sputter, "She was talking to CLAIREY, mom!! She was telling MY LITTLE SISTER!" At this point, I realized that I needed to get the whole story, with no embellishments, and the truth. The only way to ensure I'm getting the truth, is to separate the two. The way I figure is, if I get the same story from both of them, separately, then either a) i'm getting the truth, or b) the co-conspired so quickly and accurately that I should be impressed. I was, however, rooting for the truth. I sent the Munch upstairs.

I sat Jenna at the kitchen table and started with, "Okay...calm down. Now, tell me everything that was said...you can tell me, and I PROMISE you, I will not get angry with you, okay?"
"Okay...." sniffle.
"So, what happened?"

"Well, on the bus, so-and-so was talking about having babies and said the 's' word. Clairey said that she saw that on Auntie Amy's tv when she first turned it on, but Auntie Amy changed the channel."

"Okay, so what did Clairey see?"

"Nothing. It was people kissing."

[WHEW!!!] "Okay...moving on...then what happened?"

"So-and-so told Clairey that that's how babies are made. That the mommy and daddy do SEX and that's how babies get into the mommy's tummy! And mom, she was telling CLAIREY!!"

--at this point, I am just thinking, 'why is this kid so upset???'-- "Alright," I said, "So...did she say something offensive?"

"YES!! MOOOOM!!! That is NOT how babies are made!" [at this point, my brain somewhat explodes, and I think, 'WTH??? I've thought now, for several years, that this kid knows how babies are made, I mean, for crying out loud, I've lived through the story of the 'lifecycle of a cheetah' Lord knows how many times...] "That's how they're made in the ANIMAL KINGDOM!!! WE ARE HUMANS! GOD PUTS BABIES IN THE MOMMY'S TUMMY!!!"

--break for tragic meltdown at the kitchen table. Replete with a film-noir-style collapse and huge, shaking sobs.--

I sat there, and let her cry for a few moments. I mean, if I were to open my mouth, I would have laughed. Hysterically. And not have been able to stop. So, I composed myself and said quietly, "Jen...it's the same. Humans are animals."

"But MOM. It is NOT the same! In the animal kingdom, the male mounts the female and growls at her and they are linked and they walk in circles while the male bites the female on the nape of the neck. It. is. not. the. same."

"Um...you are correct. There is no growling. And there is generally no walking in circles. But, it's pretty much the same thing. It all works the same."

Ensue more bawling and collapsing. So, I did what any mother would do: I made her explain the lifecycle of a cheetah and related it to humans. AND...problem fixed. Easy.

Next, I sent Jenna upstairs, and started grilling Clairey.

"So, what happened on the bus?"
"So-and-so was talking about sex and Jenna was crying."
"Okay, so what did you learn about sex?"
"That mommy's and daddy's do it to make a baby."
"Do what?"
"Sex."
"What is sex?"
"What mommy's and daddy's do."
"How do they do it?"
"I don't know. They just do. I think they kiss."

Works for me. I'll save that explanation for another day.

So...with all that being said, I felt like I should let the other mom know that that conversation was happening on the bus. I just felt like, you know, I would want to know. And, thank God, I know this mom and feel comfortable talking with her. Also, I know her child well, so I was assured that nothing inappropriate was said--i just felt like it was a 'need to know' type of thing. So...I called the mom. And you know? I was so nervous. I felt like I was being that mom--you know, the one that thinks her kid can't handle a situation by herself, so you have to call and handle it for her--even though I knew that wasn't the case. But I felt like that anyways. Dammit.

The mom was super nice, and super understanding. I just let her know that I wasn't calling to tattle, but that a conversation was happening where Clairey was being educated about sex. She called back a bit later and said that her daughter said that that's not what happened at all. Argh. She asked if I would please ask Clairey exactly what was said so she, as a parent, could get to the bottom of it. Absolutely--i'd ask the same. So, I called Clairey (she was with her dad). I made her go to the bathroom and shut the door, then I asked her, "What, EXACTLY, did so-and-so say? And just so you know, she's very upset about it, so you better tell me the truth."
"She told me that mommy's and daddy's do sex to make babies."
"Is that all?"
Long pause......"She told me that she saw her mommy and daddy doing sex. But mommy, please don't tell on her. She said not to tell."
"CLAIREY. Did she tell you WHAT she saw?"
"Yes. She said she saw her mommy and daddy doing sex."
"But WHAT did she see?"
"That."
"What?"
"Her mommy and daddy doing sex."
"Okay, thanks. And that's the truth? 100%? You're not keeping secrets?"
"No....but mommy? Please don't tell that I told."
"I won't."

(Just FYI--i lied to my kid. I had to tell the other mom.) And, I feel sure that was it. I mean, if it would have gotten into any more detail, Clairey would have told me. She's so stinkin' matter-of-fact about everything. So, I called back the mom, and let her know what Clairey said. Her answer when I told her about her kid seeing her having sex? The same one I would have had, "OH. GREAT."

A little while later, I got a text back where the mom said the little girl said she never said any of that. My thoughts? It honestly doesn't matter to me. Clairey knows the process of babies growing in the mommy's tummy. She even knows that sperm has to get to an egg. What she DOESN'T know, however, is how that sperm gets there. She had no idea about the mommy and daddy having to DO anythingto make a baby; so now she knows they have to do something, which is sex, which she thinks, is kissing. And THAT was the part I was concerned about. All's well that ends well.

And Jenna...well, Jenna now understands that the animal kingdom and humans mate the same. Minus the growling. Usually.

How does this end? I called the girls. I told them that sex is a normal topic to be curious about, and it's okay to talk about it--WITH YOUR PARENTS and NOT ON THE BUS. I also let them know that if it comes up again, simply to say, "We shouldn't talk about this without our moms or dads," and stop the conversation.

The part i'm thankful about: that it was a conversation between 3 little girls. My two, and another that I KNOW is a good girl and comes from good parents with good values. So I know that it was a 'clean' conversation, rather than a filthy one--know what I mean?

2012

2012-01-20T12:21:00.000-06:00

I don't make New Years resolutions. Okay, so I used to. And I thought about it this year, but then I decided i'd be better off NOT doing it. The last time I made a NYR was, oh...2 years ago, maybe? At that time, my biggest one was to not go out of the house looking like a homeless yoga reject. You know--yoga pants, t-shirt, flip flops, no makeup, and a cap (because i didn't fix my hair). I've looked like that for...oh, heck...probably since 2005 when i started working from home full time. So, two years ago, I decided that I would not go in public wearing yoga pants. Excuse me while I laugh. Sorry...resolution FAIL right there, people. Yoga pants manufacturers should be sending me free crap, because that's all I wear. I have to go to Vegas for work in a few days, and my boss told me I can't wear yoga pants. I thought about quitting for a moment.

I HAVE started wearing makeup. Sometimes. Clear mascara counts, right? I mean, really--where do I go? I take my kid to gymnastics. Yep, that's pretty much the extent of me getting out. I'm crazy like a fox. I guarantee you my gym-mom friends don't care what I look like. In fact, when I DO put on makeup and/or fix my hair, they're all, "WOW! You look so nice today!" It's usually because I brushed my hair. We have an unspoken code of appreciation. If you have kids, and you found time to brush your hair, then you are AMAZING and you should be shown massive amounts of appreciation. I like my gym-mom friends. I like to think that because i'm a mom, I work full-time, and I brushed my hair, that I should get an award. Like a case of gold bouillon or something similar.

I like to have New Year's "thoughts." Not so much resolutions, but things i'll think about doing, so then if I don't, it's no big whoop. I thought about making dinner every night. That didn't last very long. As soon as I ran out of those fancy crock-pot liners and had to clean the crock pot by hand, I gave up on that crap. Besides, my kids love waffles for dinner. What? They're organic and have flax seed in them, and they don't use syrup. That's how we roll.

Really really

2012-01-17T15:34:00.000-06:00

My children are growing up too fast. I know...it's so cliche, isn't it.. (Don't you like how I have NO idea how to put an accent over the 'e'?) to say that, I mean. You hear it all the time, and honestly, I find it freakin' annoying when other people tell me that. And by other people, I mean my mother. My mom tells me this all. the. time. The girls will be arguing about something, and i'll yell, "BE QUIET!!" Mom will look at me and say, "One day, you're going to miss that noise." I call bullcrap on that one. I don't think any mother sighs and thinks, "I really miss the sounds of my kids beating the hell out of each other." I KNOW i will miss the sounds of their laughter--except when they're supposed to be sleeping and I'm tired, and for the-love-of-God-will-you-just-stop-talking-and-go-to-sleep. No, I won't miss THAT. I'll miss the laughter that ensues when the cat comes running out of their room, and they've adorned him with Build-a-Bear pants. Or, the riotious giggles that come when they use their fancy microphone to sound like 'mump-a-chi-kins' ('munchkins' in Claire-ese). Yes, THOSE are the things I miss.

Recently, I'm missing those baby faces. I've been slacking in the "yearly" photo department. I mean, REALLY slacking. Don't get me wrong, I take pictures of the girls a lot--but they're simply snapshots--not "it's a new year and we have to chronicle it" pictures. So yesterday, they had the day off of school, I had the day off of work, and we ventured out--the girls in their favorite outfits, myself armed with my camera and reflector board.

First stop, the train tracks, 2nd stop the park. It was fun. The girls were scared to death to get on the train tracks. Clairey played sentinel while I took Jen's pics, an vice versa. They heard the far-off whistle of a train and scampered off the tracks--no train in sight. As I stood there, Clairey yelled, "Mommy!! There's a train coming! I heard it! GET OFF THE TRACKS!!!" As I took my time, they proceeded to freak out. Although, like I mentioned, no train in sight. So, I did what any mother would do--I sat on the track and fiddled with my camera. hahaha! I'm so evil. After they screamed for a while, I got off the track.

So, here are a few of them...

My sweet girls--probably mere moments before bickering over something stupid...

And here is where I begin to cry... Jenna walked into my office as I was uploading these, and I just sat there...my hand over my mouth. "What's wrong, mom?" she asked. "This picture really hurts," I whispered.
"It hurts? Why?"
"Because you are so grown--you don't even look like a little girl."
"So it really hurts?"
"Yes, it hurts my heart..."
"Really?"
"Really, really."

And these freckles....how will I ever deal with this one growing up? This is my baby!! And I don't care what any one says--"Cute as a button" my butt. I've never seen a button this damn cute.

My little miss smarty pants. Never wants to smile, but is so lovely all the same.

My little presh. I could look at that profile all day. Nom nom nom.

STOP GROWING, PLEASE.

Pride. And i'm not talking about lions.

2012-01-11T08:17:00.001-06:00

Jenna, as low-key as she is (in regards to Clairey), often surprises me. I mean, she's done sneaky things before--telling SMM that she hasn't had candy, when she has; telling me she'll practice piano then I find out that she conveniently forgot, etc. But yesterday, she did something that made me very happy.

When the girls got off the bus yesterday (Tuesday), Clairey announced, "Jenna and so-and-so were arguing on the bus, and now so-and-so doesn't like her and is mad at her." [Italics in place of a name, people.] Now, the thing about Jen is that she DOESN'T argue. Well, not with anyone but us. She will RARELY argue with anyone outside of family, and if she does, there's usually a good reason behind it. Like, someone says that cheetahs suck or that Santa's not real, or something like that.

Come to find out, that Jen's friend wanted to see her two new dolls that she got for Christmas. Jenna told her, "I'm not allowed to bring toys to school," and her friend told her to just put them in her school bag without my knowing and bring them to school. Oooooo....sneaky.

[Back-up a day--Monday night: Jenna asked me if she could bring her dolls to school to show so-and-so. I told her, no, that she knows she's not allowed to bring toys to school. She agreed and that was that. She said she DID, however, put the dolls in her bag. Then she got smart and removed them.]

So, back to Tuesday: On the bus, this little girl asked Jen, "Where are your dolls?" and Jenna said, "My mom told me I can't bring toys to school." The little girl got mad at Jen because she thought Jenna told me about 'the plan.' Jen, on the other hand, hadn't said a THING to me about the plan. And, according to the bus driver, as that little girl sat there and told Jenna that she wasn't going to be her friend anymore (because she tattled on her), Jenna defended herself by saying, "But it's wrong! My mom said i'm not allowed to bring toys to school!" Two thumbs up.

So, Jenna told me the whole plan, and why this friend was mad at her. I used it as a lesson, and made sure that I told her THIS is what it's all about--following your heart, and doing what's right. Which is listen to your mommy, lest you get beat.

New Year, new post

2012-01-09T09:45:00.000-06:00

So sorry about the lack of posts--our schedules are absolutely insane around here!! One of my New Year's resolutions: get our schedules organized!!

However, let's get this year kicked off right with a little Claireyism...

Last Thursday, the girls had a substitute bus driver. When I hear the bus stop, I go to the front door to welcome the girls home--or, if they look to be in pissy moods, to lock the front door so they can't get in.
The bus drove by our house, then came to a screeching halt a bit past the neighbor's. The girls get out, and run towards home. Clairey looks exasperated. Let me preface this by saying Clairey is NOT pc.

Me: "What's up? How was your day?"
Clairey: --big sigh-- "Asians do NOT know how to drive!"
Me: "What? Why do you say that?"
Clairey: "Seriously. Our substitute bus driver was Asian and he didn't know which pedal was the gas and which one was the brake!"
Me: "How do you know this?"
Clairey: "Because the WHOLE time, it was like, stop...GO...stop...GO!! My neck was going back and forth! It was SO annyong."

I would also like to say that I have NEVER said anything about Asian drivers. This kid makes this crap up herself.

So, later, we go to the post office. I'm cruising through the parking lot, and this car just backs out right in front of us, causing me to slam on my brakes. I just said, "Jeez, guy!!" Clairey, on the other hand, keeps watching the car as it pulls out and drives past us, then says, "YEP!! I knew it!! Asian! See mom? I TOLD YOU."

Virginia: More than a state

2011-11-09T21:18:00.000-06:00

In the shower this evening, Clairey looks at me and asks, "Mom, is a peachie [what we call 'girl' parts] really called a 'Vir-ZHEN-ia'?" And, because i'm an excellent mother and lie to my children often, I said yes. She looked concerned for a moment.

"Virzhenia, eh? Hmmm...I always thought that was a state."

"It IS a state," I said. Of course, I had to turn my face into the shower because I was trying so hard to keep a straight face.

Still concerned, she says, "Wow, that really stinks for the people that live there."

Then, piping up from the other room, comes Jenna's voice: "It's not a 'vir-ZHEN-ia! It's a 'vir-zhEYEn-ia'!" Yeah, I didn't correct that one either.

Vagina, Virginia, Virzhenia,Virzheyenia--it's all the same. And, according to Clairey, "You can hurt Virzhenia by littering--so don't litter. Oh, and you can hurt your virzhenia, too--like if you fall off your bike or something."

So take note people--don't litter, and don't fall off your bike.

This is what happens when you work from home

2011-10-20T14:23:00.000-05:00

I think about random crap. A lot. I also have random dreams. I had a dream that i met my nephew Vincent for the first time, and although only 5mths old, he told me (in a British accent) that everyone is teasing him about his mustache. He was mustachioed. (Is that a word? It is now.) See? Random.

I guess I have a lot of random crap thinking-time because I work from home and have no one to interact with except El Gato Guapo. Yes, he IS muy guapo, but really, I get tired of looking at his handsomeness all day. He likes to sit on my lap and watch me Tweet and Facebook and edit blog posts and it's-about-to-get-posted-on-the-corporate-site documents. He enjoys it. So do I.

I hate it how people think I don't do anything. You know, because I work from home. Yes, it's 2:12pm and I'm still in my jammies. However, it's 2:12pm and I'm JUST NOW taking my lunch break. You know why? Because I have no one to say, "Hey...lets go to lunch!" or "Quit working, you fool, it's lunch time." I'm going to invent a little robot that does that. Or teach the cat to do it.

I also don't get to leave my office. Roll around in THAT one, people. Most people can say, "5pm--I'm blowing this pop stand!" (although, I believe I may be the only 30-something that actually uses 'pop stand' frequently). I cannot say this. I do say, however, "That's it! I'm....going to....um...hmmm....walk OUT of my home office!!" And really, even if I shut my office door, it's still there. The office. AND the door.

NOT complaining though. I realize how lucky I am to put my kids on the bus every morning, and to see them arrive home. It's usually only a matter of minutes before I want to push them back outside and tell them to flag down the bus that just dropped them off, but I digress. I'm glad I get to wake up, brush my teeth, and wander downstairs to my laptop for work--rather than sit in the crappy commute that SMM has to.

I don't think, after all these years (6) I COULD go back to working in an office. The sound of people (when i'm trying to work) generally annoys me now. Not that I don't like people---i just feel like I can't get anything DONE when there are people around. Know what I mean?

I love my job. I also love my plaid, Tiger pajama pants. They make the BEST work pants ever.

Cheetah girl is Ten

2011-10-11T13:26:00.000-05:00

Jenna doesn't get nearly as much 'blog time' as she should. It's not because I love her less, or because she's an uninteresting child--it's because every time Jenna talks, it's about the same thing: Cheetahs. I mean, she DOES throw other stuff in there; namely, Harry Potter. And that's really it. Cheetahs and Harry Potter. Not a whole lot of fodder for blog posting, you know? BUT...this post IS about my Jenna because on September 30th, my girl turned TEN.

My J,
Ten. A decade old. Double digits.

At night, before I go to bed, I tiptoe into your room and kiss your sweet face. Okay, I'm lying. Every night, I DO go into your room, but the scenario isn't as sweet. It's usually more like this: Open your door (that we've closed so Tito doesn't knock all your crap over or bite your feet while you're sleeping) and cringe because when I DO open it, it makes this horribly screechy sound; manuever my way slowly to your bed, trying not to step on 1) your pile of dirty clothes that you wait to wash until you're out of clean panties 2) your "vet kit" that somehow always makes it to the middle of the walkway 3) a random cheetah with gauze wrapped around it's lame paw and 4) other random piles of stuff; I finally reach the proper side of your bed, then I pat around where your head should be (usually ending up with my finger in your ear or mouth); find your cheek, then (here's where the sweet part is) lean over and give you kisses. And while i'm smooching your soft cheek, I take in a deep breath--because even at 10 years old, you still smell like a little baby. When that smell is gone, i will CRY. Do you hear me? CRY. So you better always smell like a baby.

You are turning into this beautiful, beautiful young woman. You have always been beautiful--when you were a baby, people used to stop me and tell me how gorgeous you were. And one time, this crazy old lady stopped me to say that you had a beautifuly shaped head. OOooookkkaaaaaayyyy. I just nodded and smiled. What the hell was she? A freakin' milliner??

Anyways, you are too pretty, and SMM and I both hate it. We love it when you make ugly faces, and encourage you to do it more often. Especially in front of boys. We like it even more when you make stupid sounds and make yourself have buck teeth. Continue to do that. Again--particularly when there are boys around. You also are growing legs and a waist and other crap that we don't like. Stop it now. You are gorgeous. You are one of those girls that will never need makeup. Green, green eyes and black eyelashes--so dark, it looks like you're wearing eyeliner. Dammit.

You are just as smart as you are beautiful. Of course, I've always known this, but now I have to hear it from your teachers. In emails, and phone calls, and conferences. And let me tell you, when i go to a parent/teacher conference, and the teachers have your work pulled aside because they were SHARING IT WITH OTHER TEACHERS, I just want to burst with pride. When I hear, "I had to share this because i have NEVER seen a fourth grader write like this!" I just want to cry. When I see your Science/Math teacher throw up his hands and say, "Brilliant. Her mind is BRILLIANT. The way she THINKS is awesome..." I just want to cry. They said these things about YOU, baby. As a writer, I'm thrilled beyond words that you share that with me--but lets be honest, I'm a complete dumbass when it comes to math and science. You're just awesomeness in kid form. Out of all those things though, the best compliment was, "The way she THINKS is awesome." That's what I love about you. Your crazy quirkiness--the way you think WAY outside the box--is amazing. I am so entirely proud of you. To the very, very core of my soul.

One of the things that I am most proud of you for, however, is your kindness. You have SO many "best friends." Of course, we all know that Halle is your "BFFLAA" (as you say), but every other child in your class is also classified as your "best friend." You don't understand how girls can only have ONE best friend, and you don't get the concept of being jealous when one friend plays with another. This is something that I will be forever thankful for. A lot of it has to do with the little 'spectrum' that you fall into, but a lot of it has to do with the fact that you simply don't see why you have to choose one person over another. This will get you FAR in life, pumpshkin. Never EVER just choose one friend. Surround yourself with people you love, and those who love you. And always remember: If a person continually makes you feel bad about yourself, then they're not your friend. Friends lift you up, they don't drag you down. Can I get an Amen?!

You are still playing piano, and playing quite well. Your instructor goes on and on about how you practice so well. I don't have the heart to tell her that you never practice. You're just good. You also started cheering this year! I have to be honest here, kid--we were scared about this. I mean, for the best part of the last 3 years, you've been growing into these limbs and generally walk about looking like a baby giraffe. However, you are doing SO WELL!! You love cheering for your Redskins, and you have such a fabulous little cheer squad. And, I got to make you a mum for Spirit Day--tee hee!

You are at the point in your life, where I couldn't wait for you to be--now I'm sad that you're there. I love the time we spend together, snuggled under your covers before you go to sleep, where you tell me (in great detail) everything about your day. Right now, I'm 99.9% positive that there isn't a thing that you don't share with me. And I know this becauseI'm a sneaky mom and I read your diary. And you have told me everything that's written in there! WHOOP! And since you're not going to see this for many, many years, you can't be mad at me for reading your diary. And even if you are, you can just get over it, because you know you're going to read YOUR kids' diary, too. That is, if you even HAVE kids. Right now, you're telling me that you're just going to have cheetahs. For the love of God. Talk about taking "Crazy Cat Lady" to the extreme.

For all that is positively great about you, you are also a little shit. Oh yes, you are. You've reached a point where you like to argue about EVERYTHING. So, in order to save ourselves time, we've just decided that YOU can make all the decisions. We've noticed that when we say, "Fine, just do whatever you want," you end up doing what we want you to do anyways. Not sure if you realize we're right, or you're just doing it because you feel guilty--either way, BOO YAP! (Which is one of your favorite things to say. We don't have the heart to tell you that it's 'boo yah!' It's funny to laugh at you.)

My Jenna, I SO love you.
Mommy
xoxoxo

Toasty buns

2011-09-21T12:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I was helping Jen with her homework about the earth's rotation. I was trying to make her draw out a deeper explanation of why she chose a certain answer. Yeah, it's kind of mean, but i want to see WHY she thinks a certain way.

So, the earth's rotation---anyways, we were discussing how when it's cold here, it's Summer in Australia because of the tilt of the Earth's axis. When you look at the picture of the tilt, I can see how it could be a bit confusing. Lucky for Jen, I had just turned off the oven, so I figured i'd use that to my advantage.

We stepped over to the oven--"Let's pretend the oven is the sun," I said, and opened the oven door.
Jenna: "It's not very hot."
Me: "It's hot enough."
Jen: "But it's not as hot as the sun."
Me: "Yes. I. Know. But let's just pretend. Okay, so this is the sun, and you're the Earth."
Jen: "I'm not round."
Me: "I. KNOW. We're pretending. YOU'RE the Earth, and the OVEN is the sun. Get it?"
Jen: "Okay."

Seriously. This kid and her literalness (is that a word) kills me.

Me: "So, tilt your head towards the oven. Your head is the Northern Hemisphere, and right now, it is Summer. Why is that?"
Jen: "....."
Me: "Because the sun is...."
Jen: "Close to my head."
Me: "Yes, exactly! Now turn around and bend over. Your bottom is the Southern Hemisphere. Why is it warm?"
Jen: "Um...because my butt's in the oven??"

NICE.

The Munch is EIGHT

2011-09-13T00:04:00.001-05:00

On September 10th, the wee Clairey turned EIGHT. I was still grasping seven. I told her that since she's so small, we can still just pretend she's 7--give me another year. She didn't go for it. Crap. And so, another letter (albeit a few days late) begins...

Pumpshkins,
You are now eight years old. Holy crap. Where did the time go? I swear, I ask myself that same question every.single.year. And here you are--a big eight-year old. Well, not really 'big'...you are still teeny-tiny, but jeez almighty kid, you have a personality that doesn't quit. I've said this before, and i'll say it again--you are a light. Like absolute sunshine. There's really no better way to describe you. YOU, in and of yourself, are simply infectious. Somewhat like a transmittable disease but full of complete awesomeness instead of death and destruction.

Yes, you are 8 and I still threaten to eat your face at least once a week. Okay, so maybe twice a week. Oh hell, you know I do it every day, and then I sneak in your room when you're sleeping and nibble on your cheeks--so HA HA! Mommy wins. You lose. But I can't help it. You have the most precious little face--such rosy little cheeks and nummy freckles. You are too cute. And one day a long, long, LONG time from now, you will be 16 and I will still be eating your face. I'm just happy that you don't fight it. In fact, you've taken to yelling, "Mommy! Eat my face like a goat!" Acceptance is the first step--looks like you're on your way.

You do so well in school, and all the teachers love you--particularly, since you told your first grade teacher that I was a whore. When I came to eat lunch with you that next week, the secretary saw me and busted out laughing. When your mom's a whore, word travels fast, I suppose. When we went to meet your 2nd grade teacher, I introduced you and she said, "So THIS is Clairey." Why yes, yes it is. This is THE Clairey. I'm sure there will be many more fun stories THIS year--can't wait.

In October of last year, you made a big decision. After 5 years at your current gym, you decided that you wanted to change gyms. You told me that you were getting bored and wanted to try out someplace new. So we did, and we switched gyms, and you have just amazed me with the way you have improved over this past year. Your dedication to gymnastics, at 8 years old, is something that most people don't have to ANYTHING. Because of this, you often have to make difficult choices: you don't get to play like most kids your age, you don't get to 'try' anything new...and you are fine with it. Every time you bring up how you want to audition for a play, I'll say, "Okay, but you'll have to make a decision--theatre or gymnastics." Then you act like I'm a complete fool for even asking the question.

Speaking of which...

This summer you were in the musical "Annie." You played the part of Molly, and child, you stole each scene you were in. Yes, I ended that sentence with a preposition. Moving on... The crowd loved you; that part was so entirely perfect for you, that I wanted to cry every time you came on stage. And now, I want to cry every time I watch the videos. Which is a lot less now that it's been over a month. But not a WHOLE lot less. Because you're so damn cute and funny and talented, and it's so fun to watch!

You are dynamite in a small package. You have the sweetest heart and are such a loving little girl. My bedside table is full of drawings and knick-knacks and other stuff that you make for me. Every paper you bring home has, "I [heart] Mommy" written on it somewhere. You are just so full of love.

I am so proud to be your mommy. My sweet baby...I love you SO very much.

Happy Birthday my presh!

xoxoxox

Camaros and cooties

2011-08-10T08:53:00.002-05:00

On the way to drop Clairey off at theatre today, a young kid in a 1980s-era Camaro was beside us at a light. That thing had huge meats on the back end and a exhaust system that cost more than the car. It was LOUD. Clairey just sat there, in her princess booster seat, looking out the window.

"Why is that car so loud?" she asked.

"See all those pipes coming out the back, at the bottom? That's why."

"Oh."

The light turned green, and we were off. The rapist-mobile got caught behind some cowboy in a huge dooley. I saw the kid come around the truck--then he started speeding up. "Here he comes...." I said. And about 5 second later, he goes speeding by us. Clairey audibly sighed, "WHY do boys do that?!"

"Because," I said, "some boys are just dumb."

"I understand, mom." [Big pause] "They also have cooties."

She's so matter of fact.

Entertainment gold

2011-07-27T14:04:00.000-05:00

She goes by many names: The Clairey, The Munch, Bit, Pumpshkins, Little Bit... She is more than a 7-year old kid--she is entertainment GOLD, I tell you. I mean, look at this kid:

See that ring on her legs? That's because she spent 30 minutes on the crapper reading. AND SHE LET ME TAKE A PICTURE! I was all, "Ha! You have a toilet ring on your butt! Let me take a picture." And The Munch was all, "Ha! Okay!!" Then stood there. Hello? Awesome kid. And that sponge in her hand? She was cleaning the tile on the pool. Because it was FUN.

She's too much. At the grocery store last night, she let out this huge sigh. I ask, "What's up?" and she comes back with, "Oh, nothing. I could really just use a pina-colada right now." As she sits there, leaning against the shelves of organic peanut butter in her gym leo, hair in pigtails, and bar chalk all over her forehead.

At the moment, she's in theatre camp. See how I spelled 'theater' there? Yeah, you like that don't you? I don't like spelling it -er. Looks too harsh. ANYWAYS, they're doing Annie, and Bit got the part of Molly. She's going to rock that part. And you know why? Because she's a freakin' scene stealer. She was running around the house this morning, yelling, "You'll clean this dump, 'til it SHINES like the top of the Chrysler Building!" and then she asked me how to act drunk.

Entertainment GOLD.

Clairey's camp journal

2011-07-18T09:34:00.002-05:00

Clairey attended her first week-long camp from 7/10-7/15 2011. It was called, "Messy Munchkins," and was about an hour from our house. She stayed in a treehouse, with no air conditioning. All spelling and punctuation is exactly how she wrote it.

Sunday
I <3 U mommy. You are The Best! [then there's a picture of a tooth and a heart] In The showr, my tooth got rely loos! <3 <3 <3 <3 :) :)
Monday
Mommy and Wewe I am haveing so much fun. it is asume. what are you doing? <3

*"Wewe"=SMM

Tuesday
I <3 U Mommy. I am haing so much fun! <3 kiss kiss woowoo Jass hans hans hans! to night i saw a coper head :( I donot like this camp i hate it

*The "kiss kiss" thing is our 'special' kiss. We kiss twice, then say, "woo woo!" then make jazz hands and say, "jazz hands!" The "hans hans hans" is her doing the echo of "hands." Yeah, we're crazy.

Wednesday
Mommy last night when i was going to slee I herd screeming I ran out my tree hous and ran in the cichin. an ges what ther was a coper head! bnana cild it with a hoe and then they berid it and then we livd hapaly ever after! <3

* "cichin"= kitchen. She has trouble distinguising Ks and Cs, because the C in her name makes a K sound. "bnana" is her counselor, Banana. They all have fake names.

Thursday
Mommy i have little bups on my stimmick and they ich. I <3 U!

*She got heatrash all over her back and stomach (stimmick).

Friday
I <3 U mommy I am so glad we are going home! I <3 U

All in all, she had a great time, and said she wants to go back next year. She's a sweaty little thing, so we'll probably send her to Camp Misty--where they stay in ac'd cabins.

This is my life. How's yours?

2011-05-05T16:01:00.000-05:00

Ah, Facebook and Twitter--you make it so unnecessary for me to blog, because i get to spew random bits of well..RANDOMNESS at any given moment, rather than wait to write about it on here. But alas, here I am...

Alright..not going to mince words here. There's a dead lizard in our freezer. It's actually a leopard gecko, but who cares? It's a reptile, it's dead, and it's in our freezer. It's not, however, just hanging out next to the frozen peas. Like, you don't open the freezer and yell, "HOLY CRAP! Is that a dead lizard?" No, no, my friends. Steve the Dead Leopard Gecko is lying in wait within a special lizard sarcophagus. Wait...i must take a picture...

See? There he is--on top of the whole wheat tortillas, next to the...what is that? Breakfast sausage? Yeah, there he is.

Here's a shot of the top of his casket:

He even has a lining--it's red with sports balls on it. He was a sporty little guy--what can I say? Poor Steve--such a noble gecko. So loved by Jenna. I wish that he would've just keeled over, but that's not what happened...

On Thursday night, April 28th, poor Steve was just minding his own business, trying to stalk a cricket while Jenna and I watched. He missed, and was heading back to his cave for a Dos Equis, when all of a sudden, he went into convulsions. Or seizures. Or whatever it is when a gecko screeches really loud then just goes stiff and starts shaking. Jenna freaked the hell out, which, you know, she tends to do, and started yelling for SMM. So, SMM runs up the stairs, and by the time he gets there, what we had left, boys and girls, was a limp lizard. Please, no offensive jokes. This is a lizard's life of which we're speaking.

What the hell kind of lizard has a seizure? It looked like he was breakdancing, and i said so, but Jenna didn't buy it. Dammit. So i told her that i don't think this is normal lizard behavior, and perhaps, we may begin to be a little concerned about his general health and well-being. Of course, Jenna was crushed.

Friday morning, Steve hadn't moved much. As we looked at him, he began seizing again. This time it was for about 10 minutes...then his tail just flickered around for another 10 minutes. Really?? I MEAN, REALLY?

[Seriously--WTF? We have the WORST luck with animals. We recently killed 3 fish, and now it's GECKO DOWN. I. CAN'T. WIN. I mean, we have a cat that we wish would die, but that fat bitch is still alive. How does THAT work?]

Anyways, so as soon as the girls go off to school, I start scoping the net for "leopard gecko seizure," and other such gems. I found a few gecko breeders, shot them Steve's stats, and they all came to the conclusion that it was most likely a congenital defect caused by the el crappo conditions that chain pet stores buy their geckos from. YAY ME. So, all these breeders basically give me three options:

I can take Steve the Seizing Reptile to the vet and have the vet put him down.
I can wait for him to die himself (he'll either starve or die of dehydration, since he's now practically paralyzed).
I can refrigerate him, then when he's in a reptile coma, put him in the freezer.

Ay yi yi. Why do i always have to make these stupid decisions? Only a herptologist will put him down. The closest one won't be back into the office until TUESDAY, which means the poor lizard would suffer (and probably die) by then--which essentially, knocks out numbers 1 and 2 together. So...number 3. At this point, I really needed a shot of tequila.

I picked up Steve. His little body was pretty much shot to shit at this point--he was just floppy and to be honest, it was kind of gross. I was afraid I was going to squish him. I looked at his sweet little lizardy face, put a few napkins in a tupperware, then put him in the fridge...Farewell, speckly Steve...

I couldn't take it. Ten minutes later, I took him out and put him under his heat lamp so he could warm back up. I could not be a lizard killer. Then i tried to hand feed him crickets and mealworms and calcium powder to make him better. I'm such a nurse, but NONE OF THAT SHIT WORKED.

SMM came home from work early. I showed him Steve. Then, on cue, Steve started convulsing. He was hardly breathing at all. So, with a heavy heart, and reeking from germy gel because he is, afterall, a reptile so he carries salmonella, I put him back into the tupperware and entombed him in his wintry grave. --sigh-- I'm glad the light goes out when you shut the door.

Steve was in a lizard cold coma within 30 minutes, then i put him in the freezer and he quickly became a Gecko Pop. I DO wish this were the end...and if you're still reading this, you're insane. It's about a lizard, people. A DEAD lizard. But please...continue on if you so desire...

SMM and I knew that when Jen came home, it would go from "the little lizard we had for two months has died" to Code Red. We braced ourselves. The bus pulled up. SMM and I felt sick. I broke it to her gently; she cried--not as hysterically as we had prepared for--and then calmed down. We told her that we'd bury Steve beneath our little tree, and plant flowers there to commemerate his lovely lizardy life.

On Sunday, SMM went to grab the shovel to dig the hole for Steve. The damn yard crew must have taken it.

Status: Frozen lizard--still next to the tortillas.

Did you know...

2011-04-06T10:22:00.000-05:00

that i also have a fitness blog? Why yes, yes I do. I am a certified personal trainer and an independent Beachbody coach (and i also have a full-time job, and i'm a mom and a wife, to boot). I blog over there when i'm ranting about eating right, exercising, and how much I hated being mushy/plump.

Hormone-itis

2011-03-29T09:47:00.000-05:00

Jenna is 9. Jenna is becoming hormonal. We should all pack and move to another country before it gets out of hand. Oh wait...too late.

On Sunday night, Jenna was in a real state. A real state of WHACKED OUT, is what it was. She had just come back from a really bad Girl Scout camping exprience, and apparently, while at GS camp, she contracted a major case of hormone-itis.

Sunday evening, she sat at the breakfast table, bawling, because of the so-called 'nature' center this campground had. Apparently, there was a bobcat display that, according to Jen's description, was 'just a head and a bunch of clumpy fur lying around.' Now, in MY head, i'm picturing a diseased carcass with tufts of fur that have been ripped off it's body just blowing around in a box--the kid has a way with descriptions. Regardless, the bobcat display bothered her. HORRIBLY. Horribly enough, in fact, that SMM and I had to listen to her cry about it for about 25 minutes. And not just cry, but well up with tears and get all slobbery and messy about it. I must see this bobcat exhibit. Somewhere in between the sobfest, I started making spaghetti for dinner [yes, this sounds random, but remember this little tidbit]. Jenna offered to help, and I said okay--simply because i wanted her to stop crying. But THEN, because we were on the subject of 'nature' exhibits, she started talking about the Africa exhibit at the museum. THAT started another whole round of sobs. She hadn't realized, up until this point, I guess, that those were REAL lions/cheetahs/etc. that have been immortalized through the fun of filling 'em full of stuffing. So we spent the next 15 minutes telling her that no, people do NOT go out and shoot these animals simply for the fun of stuffing them and putting them in a museum. She FINALLY started to settle down.

I shot a glance over to the stove and saw that the water was boiling, "Oh, the water's boiling!" and I got up to throw the noodles in. Jen broke out into wailing tears and ran into the bathroom. SMM just looked at me like, "What the hell???"
"That's DEFINITELY hormonal," I said.
"I'm not ready for this," he said.
"You never will be."

Because, truthfully, no one is ready for the wrath of hormones. NO ONE. No one is safe.

I gave Jen a minute, then walked to the bathroom and opened the door. She was sitting up on the counter, hunched into a ball, sniffing. I put my hand on her shoulder, "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I should have KNOOOOOOWN!!!" she wailed.
"Known what?"
"That the water was BOILING!!!" and more hysterical crying ensued. I tried not to laugh. I did well (patting myself on the back).
"Um...it's okay that you didn't know the water was boiling. I'm not mad that you didn't know. Really, it's okay."
"Okay..." [sob, sob, sob] "I think i've just had a really disappointing weekend."

I am SO not ready for this.

Of indivirdginal pictures and hobos

2011-03-23T12:22:00.000-05:00

Sorry...it's always Clairey. Jenna is more refined in conversation and only talks about cheetahs.

Last night, as i was tucking Clairey into bed, she was staring off into space:
Me: What are you thinking about?
C: Oh, i'm just hoping hobos don't break into our house and eat my fish.
Me: [Where the heck did she learn the term 'hobo'??] Um. Okay. Why would they do that?
C: Because hobos are mean. Well, the BOY hobos are. The lady ones are probably nice.

I just stared at her, because really...what do you say to that? She continued on...in a different direction, because it's Claire.

C: The guy that took our indivirdginal pictures at school today was nice.
[Ahem...'indivirdginal' = 'individual']
Me: Well, that's good.
C: Yeah, but the lady that took our class picture was really mean.
Me: Oh, yeah? Why? What did she do?
C: Oh, she just kept yelling at the kids in the front row to 'STAND on your knees!!' You know what i'm talking about?
Me: Yeah...when you're on your knees, but your butt is off the ground?
C: Yep. Anyways, she kept telling Ashley to stand on her knees, but Ashley kept standing up on her feet. So the lady was getting mad and yelling at her.
Me: Isn't Ashley the "special" girl?
C: Uh-uh, but i gotta admit...she does get rather annoying sometimes.
Me: Clairey, that's not nice.
C: Well, it's true! She's really ann...Man, she has the GREATEST t-shirts though! Oh my gosh, they're SO CUTE.

Really??? This is how our nightly chats go. No direction whatsoever. It's entertaining, to say the least.

The best Claireyism yet...

2011-02-28T15:54:00.000-06:00

It's 3:47 pm on Monday. I just got a call from Clairey's first-grade teacher:

Teacher: Hi, Mrs. Wisdom? This is teacher's name here, um...i need you to educate Clairey about something.
Me: Sure...what about.
Teacher: Well, she was acting all 'loosey-goosey' today, and I told her to 'please settle down, or i'll have to call your mommy'. She looked at me and said, "Oh no! Please don't call the whore!"
Me: WHAT? She called me a 'whore'???
Teacher: Yes. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what it meant, so i quickly told her that that's a naughty word, and we don't say that. Then i had to deal with the group of little girls that were standing around, asking, 'What's a 'whore'?'
Me: I have no idea where she heard that. [Honestly, i really don't. I would say 'hooker', or 'dirty leg', but never 'whore'.] I'll talk to her!

And we signed off.

I looked at Clairey. "Did you call me something bad at school today?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Did you call me a 'whore'?"
"OH...yeah."
"You did. You called me a whore?! That's a bad word."
"I didn't know!"
"But why would you say that? What do you think it means??"
"I didn't want her to call you because that would be bad and i'd get in trouble!"
"So, you called me a whore."
"Yes! I said, 'No, don't call! The whore!!"
[and here, i figure it out.]
"You mean, 'the horror'?"
"YES! Don't call--THE WHORE!"

Fred

2011-02-09T10:11:00.001-06:00

Last night, Clairey and I were in the shower and i was removing my eyelashes--I wear beauty-tube mascara--the kind that, once you get it wet, the lashes just 'slide' off. So, I was pulling off my eyelashes, and rinsing them off my fingers...

Clairey: Those look like Fred.
Me: Fred? Hmmm...is Fred a spider? [the lashes looked like spider legs]

She looked at me like I was an idiot.

Clairey: No, FRED.
Me: Who's Fred?!
Clairey: FRED, mom, FRED. You know, the stuff you sew with.

Ahh...THREAD.

No grandbabies for me

2011-01-25T15:36:00.001-06:00

SMM man came home from work early yesterday, because he didn't feel well. He has a cold. He went to bed early yesterday afternoon, and stayed there for about 19 hours or so. Then he got up, and as soon as the girls got home, he went back upstairs. So, I told the girls, "Be quiet, SMM just went back to bed."

Clairey: "BACK to bed? Is he dying?" (not sure if she was being sarcastic or not)
Me: "No, he has a cold."
Clairey: "Why don't you stay in bed when you have a cold?"
Me: "Because mommies don't get to do that."
Clairey: "I don't think i'm having kids."

I love this kid! I'll wait to explain the "man cold" to her when she's a bit older.

Alas, poor Ken...

2011-01-20T13:35:00.000-06:00

...I knew him well.

I found Ken on the floor--his dead, plastic body face-up. I think it's easy to conclude that Edward (yes, this is he of 'Twilight' fame) veered from his "deer" diet, attacked Ken, left him for dead, then decided to take a relaxing bath with his favorite rubber ducky.

I believe the Barbie girls are off shopping. Jeesh, what a mess THEY have to come home to.

And more...

2010-12-27T22:34:00.002-06:00

Claireyisms, that is...

On the way home from visiting family in Kilgore--out of the blue, she asks:

"Do we go to a 'Bapatize' church?"

Me: "What? A Baptist church? No, we go to a Lutheran church."

Clairey: "A Lutherick church? Gamma goes to a 'Katherine' church."

Me: "Yep, Gamma goes to a Catholic church."

Clairey: "I have a friend at school named Katherine. Hmmmm....I wonder if she owns the place."

Claireyisms

2010-12-10T07:56:00.000-06:00

There's this white chihuahua in our neighborhood that is constantly roaming the streets. I don't know how many times i've nearly run over that little shit, but it's been a lot. I actually had to get out of my car, and physically remove his lazy butt from the middle of the road before. He was annoying, but tolerable, until i found him pooping in my backyard. Then it was on. If he should accidentally meet the front end of my car, there will be no tears shed. The girls cheer me on.

This morning, as we were waiting for the bus, here comes Mr. Chihuahua, pitter-pattering down the street, looking for someones garbage to sample, i'm sure. I looked out the window, holding my cup of coffee, and grumbled, "Ugh...there's that chihuahua..." Clairey immediately sighed, and said, shaking her head in disgust, "...that little bastard."

Can't. Stop. Laughing.