It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to.

Today Miles turns 4. 

First I would like to say how happy I am that I didn't give birth to Miles in Montana. Yesterday a blizzard flew through the area leaving many roads closed. I can't imagine what that would be like -- in labor and stuck with nowhere to go. No thanks. I liked having the hospital just a few blocks away. 

Looking back on this year, I realize that Miles has reached a few milestones. 

• He's potty trained -- completely (even at night!). Now that was a wild ride. He still has accidents every once in awhile but that's to be expected. 
  
• He learned how to count to 15 (sometimes to 20 but he tends to skip numbers when he does). 
  
• He learned how to write the letter M and the letter O (I know, it's a circle). I see "MO" written on many pieces of paper. 
  
• His computer skills have improved to the point of reprogramming Mac OSX. He's next in line for Steve Jobs' position. 
  

Now, I get to look forward to the year of 4. Yipee. 

The Ferocious Fours. 

The Fearsome Fours.

The Frightening Fours.

Need I go on?

Happy Birthday, Miles! Welcome to Four!

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Heeeere spidey, spidey...

Miles' obsession with Spiderman has taken a whole new turn. At this point, I am unable to determine if this is for the worst or for the better.

I awoke the other day to Miles and Caitlynn freaking out over a spider on the ceiling. Caitlynn, who is afraid of any type of bug or spider, just basically shrieked at the sight of it and wanted me to kill it (nope, not gonna do it). Miles was more intrigued by it than anything. The cat, Dexter, just wanted to eat it and stared at it all morning with great delight -- Something to torture! Mind you, this was an itsy, bitsy spider, not any bigger than a penny. 

I went about my daily routine of grumbling at the kids and drinking coffee, while Miles gave me status reports on the spider. 

"It moved, mama. It's over there."

"Look! It's building a web!"

"I can't find it. Do you see it, Mama?"

Miles even offered it toys to play with, I'm sure to entice it to come down to his level. He showed it a Spiderman action figure in hopes the spider would begin to understand why Miles wants to be his friend. The spider simply moved to another part of the ceiling, as far away from him as possible. 

I can't help but think of what was going on the mind of the spider.

What is that shrill noise? Geez, kid. I'm pretty small. You're afraid of me? Let me try screaming at you -- AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! How's that for ya? I guess they can't hear me. I hope that cat keeps his distance. I don't feel like being eaten today. Why is the other kid giving up my position? I'm trying to blend in here and he's giving them my coordinates. I gotta move and fast. What? Is he offering me a toy? What use do I have with a toy car? Well, I would like to go for one joyride before I die. What's that? Is that. . . Spiderman? WTF? Spiderman? Ok, this kid is freaking me out. I can't turn him into Spiderman. I gotta get out of here. This family is too weird for me. That mom needs to do the dishes. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Since I write stories a few days in advance, I offer a follow up to this incident. The fate of the spider has been decided. A day later, the cat was able to get as close to the ceiling as possible by jumping onto a shelf. He grabbed the little spider (while Miles was watching) and brought it down to the floor, where he continued to "play" with it. The itsy, bitsy spider hung by a little web that dangled from Dexter's mouth. Before long, the cat finished him off. Miles was quite impressed by the cat and proceeded to talk about the incident for another hour or so. 

The spider is dead, Mama. 

Yep. 

Zed's dead.

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Wish List

Miles' birthday is coming up. Caitlynn took it upon herself to write down what Miles wants for his birthday. This is her list -- what she thinks Miles wants. 

• Squirt guns
  
• spiderman
  
• hulk toy
  
• toy car
  
• moon sand
  
• checkers
  
• toy robot
  
• scooby doo movie
  
• gum
  
• timer
  
• mug
  
• toy monkey

Some of these things will not make the cut. Ok. Most of these things won't make the cut.

• Gum? No way. Gum ends up everywhere and now we have carpeting. 
  
• Toy robot? Just an excuse not to pick up toys. Nope.
  
• Timer? Ok -- Caitlynn is referring to an alarm clock to help Miles wake up in the morning. Um, no. I don't wake up to an alarm clock, so the kids don't either.
  
• Moon sand? Those damn commercials! No. Sand is not allowed in the house even if it is from the moon and colored blue.
  
• Checkers? Miles doesn't know how to play. He's a bit too young. He's still learning how to play Connect 4.
  
• Mug? We have a cupboard full of mugs. I'll stick Miles' name on a mug to specialize it. Do they still sell masking tape?
  
• Squirt guns? Hmmm.... tempting. very tempting. May have to wait until summer.
• Scooby Doo Movie? Anything Scooby and Shaggy needs to be banned forever.
• Toy Monkey? Possibly. Does it throw poop?  

So, we're left with Spiderman and hulk toys. What Miles really wants are Spiderman Binoculars. I guess he wants to spy on the neighbors. Gotta get him started early.

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I want a TV show!

All those families with truckloads of kids get TV shows. The Duggars. Jon and Kate Plus 8. Table for 12 (new one on TLC). I tried to sit through Jon and Kate's show. I really tried. Their kids are cute, the couple is adorable...is it ok if I puke now? Don't watch. I promise to brush afterwards. 

But why can't I have a TV show about my family? Why can't you? What could I name my show? 

"Fore!" (get it? Four of us. Fore -- watch out or duck! Wow. So clever, I know...)

More importantly, why do people watch these shows? Why do we want to watch kids and parents living their "daily lives." I put "daily lives" in quotation marks because I'm not convinced that this is the way they actually live. I imagine more screaming and hair pulling on the part of the parents when the cameras are off. I give them this, though -- Kate sure does know how to organize her house. That's great. I'm glad she's a Type A. If it were me with all those kids, I would be amazed if they even got dressed everyday or that they had clean clothes in their closets. I'm organized to a point, but there's always clutter and a bit of chaos strewn around the house, so it will never look like InStyle Magazine. Our current clutter problem has to do with toys and stuffed animals. It's time to box up toys and give them away to kids that might actually play with them. 

So, I want my own show to illustrate how normal people live. You know -- waking up every morning after the kids have been up since 6 am watching old episodes of Scooby Doo and eating potato chips for breakfast. Or finding weird things growing under the bed. (Who put a cup of chocolate milk under the bed, anyway?) Kids jumping on the couch and on the bed. You doing the same. Losing things like keys and cell phone everyday. The constant whining over everything...

Too much reality?

Thought so. 

Oh -- and I do think the Octomom would make a great show. She would bring a nice flavor of crazy to these type of shows.

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E.T. is a fright-fest

I'm not allowed to watch scary movies. It's not a written rule around here. We have "rules of the house" etched in stone, btw. Me being banned from watching scary movies didn't make the list. Neither did "making sure the laundry is folded" but "put the toilet seat down" is number 5. Should be moved to number 1 since Miles is now potty trained. 

I digress... back to me not watching scary movies. I like scary movies -- suspenseful, thriller types that get inside your head. Silence of the Lambs. Poltergeist. The Shining. The Exorcist. Oooo... scary. (It doesn't help that Joe does a great impersonation of Hannibal Lector. Freaky. Of course he also does a NC-17 version of Yoda and Elmo. And he thinks I'm weird.)

The reason I'm not supposed to watch these types of films is because I won't be able to sleep for days. I tend to dream about movies -- any movies, actually. I dreamt about Enchanted for a few nights after seeing it. I couldn't get that damn song out of my head. 

I first noticed my issue with movies after I saw Seven in the theater -- twice. (I *heart* Brad Pitt.) After seeing the film, I was unable to eat spaghetti and the "sloth" murder kept creeping into my dreams. Pretty flippin' scary. I didn't sleep for a few weeks, much to the annoyance of my college boyfriend. No wonder we're not together anymore. He just didn't "get" me. 

The other night I tried watching I Am Legend, which I've seen before. I was daring myself to see if I could watch it again. Nope. I had to turn it off. I couldn't watch the dog die. The other movie I play chicken with is 28 Days Later. Yikes! I lose every time at my own game. Joe thinks I'm nuts. Yeah, I probably am.

All this leads me to Miss Caitlynn who has it stuck in her head that E.T. is scary. For some reason the movie has been showing on cable and Miles really wants to watch it. Caitlynn screams with holy terror at the sight of E.T. even though we tell her -- "It's ok. He's nice." It doesn't matter. E.T. to Caitlynn is the equivalent to a zombie. Maybe if he tried Botox, he'd be less scary. Just a thought. 

I was 6 years old when E.T. hit the theaters and I remember going to see it. I also remember seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark (the one with the snakes) and I was totally freaked out by that movie. But E.T.? No way. I loved it and wanted to watch it all the time. Reeses Peeses are still my favorite candy. 

Caitlynn is just gonna have to get over this one. E.T. is here to stay. She should dare herself to watch it.

I wonder if I can get Miles to watch Psycho with me. I need the support. Do you think I can sleep in his bed if I get scared? 

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Fun with rope

Kids are weird beings. 

I could just end there and not go on. Or I could elaborate and say -- my kids are weird beings. 

On our drive from Chicago to Montana, my two little offspring (monsters) occupied themselves with a wad of chewing gum. The fascination with the gum lasted for a few hours. It was stretched and pulled like taffy, wrapped around their fingers, and stuck to their lips and faces. Quite gross, I must say, but it kept them quiet. 

It doesn't take much to entertain Caitlynn and Miles. In fact, many household items are used as toys around here -- rubber bands, paperclips, post-it notes, tape, and their all-time favorite, empty boxes. However, after seeing Miles leap for joy over a nylon rope, I'd say that empty boxes are number 2 on the list for him.

Miles grabbed this piece of rope out of our shed and proceeded to play with it all weekend. I didn't think too much about it until I noticed how much he used the rope. How is this fun? How can a rope be so entertaining (we're talking hours of play here, folks)? Hmmm...let's see...

He tied himself to the table.
He tied Caitlynn to the table. 
He and Caitlynn tied themselves together and tried running through the yard.
He tied the chairs to the table.
He tried to jump rope.
He tied himself to a chair.
He teased the cat with it.
He and Caitlynn played tug-o-war.
He used it to rescue Spiderman from the depths of the carpet (I'm not gonna leave you!)

See? Hours of fun with rope. 

Next up -- tacks. 

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We got rid of her...

The life of a 7-year-old girl is full of Barbies, pink, and ribbons. And sleepovers. We've had a couple sleepovers here which freaks Joe out. Are they always this noisy? What are they giggling about?

For the first time, however, Caitlynn went to a sleepover at someone else's house. I'm sure she had a blast with her new BFF. I'm sure they giggled and made lots of noise and played with dolls. 

It was a welcome break for both Miles and I. Caitlynn and Miles have been fighting a lot lately over everything -- TV, computer, toys, the cat (poor Dexter stuck in the middle of two lunatic kids). It was the first time that we had Miles alone for an evening. I didn't realize he was so intuitive and could count to 15. Wow. I should pay more attention. 

But I got a break from my daughter, too, which is something I desperately needed. She's been very clingy lately and I can't seem to shake her from my leg. Her high maintenance personality is shining through brightly. I pity her future boyfriends. 

So we got rid of her for a night. Now she's back -- clinging to me like superglue, fighting with Miles over what show to watch on TV, and forcing the cat to sit on her lap. 

Welcome home, Caty. We missed you.

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Clara and Sam: Two Barbies I'd like you to meet

In honor of National Barbie Day, we decided to highlight the handicapped Barbies that may find their way into your homes. Today, we are speaking to Clara and Sam, both of which suffer from loss of leg syndrome. 

M: Hello Clara and Sam. I'm glad you could meet with me today. How are you?

Clara: I'm well, for the most part. It's tough not having both legs.

Sam: I've been better. I just took some Valium to calm my nerves. Does that light have to be so bright? Is Miles hanging around here? 

M: I know it must be hard to be handicapped among the other Barbies -- I think there are 12 in you colony -- that are whole or in one piece. The Barbie Girl song keeps playing in my head. Make it stop! 

*ahem*

Clara: Yes, it is tough, especially for me. I'm often left out of day trips to the spa and outings to the mall. I think they're embarrassed by me. 

M: Who?

Clara: The other Barbies. They don't want to carry me on their backs or even drag me by my hair through the mall. Not unless they're mad at me for some reason. I didn't go out with Ken, like everyone seems to think. He's a little scared of me. Big wuss.

M: Is fighting common?

Clara: All the time. Pretty competitive here. Plus there's only one Ken and only so many clothes. 

Sam: I get in more fights than Clara because I can wear pants. The others don't think I'm worthy of pants since I only have one full leg. They think it looks bad. So I take all the skirts. I'm not liked very much. 

M: Barbies are all about image.

Clara: Unfortunately yes. I'm still beautiful but the others just see me as legless. 

Sam: I agree with Clara. Those bitches. 

M: How did you get your injuries? I assume you weren't born this way.

Clara: I think we both suffered from the same menace -- Miles. He pulled out our legs and threw them across the room. The reattachment surgery didn't work so well. 

Sam: One Barbie doesn't have a head because of Miles. Is he here? I know he's around here somewhere. (nervous fidgeting) The headless Barbie has been shunned by the colony. I feel bad for her but she is kind of creepy in a Sleepy Hollow sort of way. I heard she's seeking revenge on Miles. 

M: Before Miles gets back in here, I'll ask one more question. I can see that you're nervous, Sam. 

Sam: He freaks me out. I mean, look at Clara. I don't want to be totally legless. It's disgusting. 

Did I say that out loud? Oh.

M: Ok. What would you like to say to all the other young Barbies out there who may one day face an older or younger brother that will pull them apart?

Clara: Well, there isn't much you can do in that situation. Be brave, I guess. 

Sam: Hope your owners read up on how to put Humpty back together again. I saw that Spiderman suffered from injuries as well from him [Miles]. Something should be done about that kid. 

So, there you have it. The dark side of being a Barbie. Watch out girls for dogs and boys who are hell-bent on pulling out your limbs. 

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Target should ban us...

As a follow up to my previous story about our adventures in Target, I have another incident to tell everyone.

First let me start by saying that my kids are not spoiled. We don't buy them everything they beg for. If we did, we'd be poor, very very poor. The kids know this. They also know that I have an uncanny knack for tuning them out when they start screaming or throwing massive temper tantrums. This annoys them even more (especially Caitlynn). 

Second, I don't know what makes them act like freak shows in stores. I'm not sitting outside the store telling them, "Ok. When we go through the doors, you are no longer human but more like beasts in search for prey. Act as crazy as possible." Like I want to put myself through this torture. 

But once they enter Target (or Walmart), it's like all the manners they've been taught mysteriously disappear - POOF! -- and they turn into rabid animals. It's at that point when my children are no longer mine. I cannot claim a child who is willing to throw himself in the middle of an aisle kicking and screaming over a Spiderman outfit. As he writhes on the dirty, nasty floor, he ceases to be related to me. Do you know this child? No, do you?  

When this happens, I walk the other way. I say, "Goodbye, Miles. Nice knowing ya. I'm going home." At the time of this particular incident, Caitlynn looked at me and asked, "Are you really going to leave him?" I thought for a moment. He was really pissing me off, so I thought for a long moment and said, "We're going to pretend to leave and see what he does." So we walked around the corner where he couldn't see us. As predicted, he got scared and started calling out for me. By then I had counted to 10 (more like 100), taken a few deep (so deep my doctor would be proud) breaths, and garnered enough courage to go claim him. Yes, he was mine all along. Imagine that.

He calmed down, too. Long enough to get to car and whine the whole way home about how I didn't buy him the Spiderman outfit. 

Good thing the radio can be turned up really loud. 

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Lucky Charms

Even though I'm not Irish, Joe has some in his blood and now my kids are a nice blend of Scottish, Irish, Czech, French, Welsh, and German (first four belong to Joe). 

Awesome. 

But today, we're all Irish.

Happy St. Patty's Day!

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Seriously?

Are moms really this bored? Do we have to fret over every flippin thing? Seriously? At the end of the day, does it really matter? 

Did people (moms in particular) really think that Nickelodeon would really make Dora into a tramp? Come on people (moms). Like they would make Dora into a Bratz doll. It just astounds me that people would actually think this. I'm not the biggest fan of Dora but I would never think that the creators behind her cartoon would make her into a tramp or a slut. 

Now, her creators have to go on the defensive. If we trusted them to bring us the Dora for 3-5 year-olds, then we should trust them to bring us a tween Dora for the 6-8 year olds. 

Maybe it's just me, but I don't fret over stuff like this. I don't like the Bratz dolls and refuse to buy them for Caitlynn but I let her play with Barbies. Why? Well, I played with Barbies at her age and honestly don't see any problem with them. 

I guess I'm not one of those moms that gets all up-in-arms over petty crap and yes, this uproar over tween Dora is petty. I, on the other hand, worry about the bigger picture when it comes to my children -- 

Am I raising them to be free-thinking independent adults? 

Do they understand what a sense of purpose is?

Do they care about others?

Do they care about the environment?

Will they be able to solve problems?

Do they know what spirituality is?

Do they understand right from wrong?

Fretting over the TV shows, movies, and characters just gets in the way of the bigger picture. Take a chill pill. Settle down. Dora will be fine. And if you don't like the new Dora then don't watch the show or buy the dolls. Simple. Ignore it, like I do with the Bratz dolls. 

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Miles Quote of the Day

"I'm out of control."

I guess I'll make this his theme song. Out of Control by U2.

Everyone needs a theme song. Today mine is Some Days are Better than Others to go along with a U2 theme.

Happy Sunday!

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Welcome to America

I wish I had words of advice for my oldest brother who just adopted a girl from China. Of course, my advice should be written as "advice" since I'm not an expert (or a doctor) on parenting. However, if you want, you can call me Dr. Marcy. I like to sound official, like I've actually accomplished something.

Ever since my brother and sister-in-law returned home from China with their pre-teen daughter, I've been racking my brain over what I want to tell them. I realize that the whole situation they are experiencing is a far cry from how I've raised my kids. I've had mine since birth and they speak my language. I can't comprehend what it must feel like to bring home a tween girl who speaks a completely different language. For that, I offer them all the best. 

That being said, I did compile a list things that I might try to do to alleviate the mood and the struggles:

• Sing some silly songs in front of her. Suggestion? Try "Don't Worry be Happy." 
  
• Give her a box to play with (oh wait, that only works with my kids and they're weird)
  
• Tap into your inner child. I know it's in there somewhere. 
  
• Tell her a knock, knock joke. (This might help if her English was better -- scratch that)
  
• Let her decorate your walls with crayon and marker. This is fun no matter what age you are. 
  
• Go bowling -- family pastime. 
• Play miniature golf.  

These are merely suggestions. I guess the best piece of "advice" is to laugh as much as possible. Seriously. Laugh. Just start laughing at nothing and everything. It's contagious. 

I'm laughing right now. 

At nothing.

Ah, I feel so much better now. 

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TAGGED: 6 Useless Things About Me

Thanks to Michael --- I just got tagged.

The rules are:

1) Put the link of the person who tagged you on your blog.
2) Write the rules.
3) Mention 6 things or habits of no real importance about you.
4) Tag 6 persons adding their links directly.
5) Alert the persons that you tagged them.

I love useless tidbits. 

1. I had eggs for breakfast.
   
2. My feet are cold.
   
3. I watched The Daily Show last night and found it tough to watch even though I agree with Jon Stewart.
   
4. I went to the dentist the other day and got some bad news. 
   
5. I sleep in until 8:00 or 8:30 every morning.
   
6. I don't like mushrooms. 
   

Now this the part where I tag people. I'm not good at playing by the rules. I tag anyone that wants to play along...

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Things that go bump in the night

We have a serious issue with Caitlynn not wanting to sleep in her own bed every night. Frankly, it's been an issue ever since she was a toddler. She's never really liked sleep and has never slept for more than 7 or 8 hours at night (except for when she's been sick). Since Miles was born, she has shared a room with him. It actually helps out, especially now. He's willing to sleep in the same room with her just so she won't cry and blubber before bedtime. He is such a compromiser, that Miles of mine. 

The rest of us like sleep. Joe wasn't much of a sleeper either until his Multiple Sclerosis made him extremely tired at night. Now he's sleeps more soundly than I do. 

So, the other night as I was negotiating sleep time with Caitlynn, I asked her to give me 5 reasons why she hates sleeping by herself. Here are Caitlynn's reasons and my responses -- pretty close to what I told her.

1. I'm a afraid of the dark. But you sleep with a little light on.
   
2. Miles talks about vampires. Not all the time. He hasn't mentioned vampires in a couple of weeks.
   
3. I get nightmares. Think about butterflies.
   
4. My legs hurt. Are they broken?
   
5. Miles talks too much. Ignore him. I do.

I feel like I should give Caitlynn a list of reasons why I shouldn't sleep with her:

1. I'm not married to you.
   
2. You talk in your sleep.
   
3. You toss and turn.
   
4. My pinky toe hurts.
   
5. Miles talks about vampires. (what?!)
   

Happy Friday the 13th. 

Miles is free to discuss vampires all day today and Caitlynn will still have to sleep in her own bed.

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Did I ever tell you the time...

when I took Miles and Caitlynn to Target with me and they were acting like recently released zoo animals? 

No? 

Ok. So, quite a few months back I was forced against my will to take the kids to Target for a quick shopping trip. Quick for us usually turns into a 4 hour ordeal. I pity anyone that has to go shopping with us. Might as well block out 10 hours from your day. You'll need a couple hours before hand to prepare yourself, 4 hours in the store, and then time afterwards to unwind from the experience. No wonder I developed a tick.

Anyhoo...

So, the kids and I were in the store. They were crazy that day. Some days they aren't too bad but then there are the days where I wish I had tranquilizers for them (or me, whichever). After we got done running through the store, it was time to checkout. The checkout person was a young man (I'm guessing early 20s). He patiently rang up our items: toothpaste, Spiderman undies for Miles (really, for Joe), and junk food (they conned me into it). As he was bagging our things, Miles decided to climb all over the red checkout counter. I'm sitting there saying -- "No." "Get down." "I said, get your little butt down. Now." "Hello. Miles. Talking to you. GET DOWN." The young guy just kept looking at me along with the 3 ladies behind us. 

I was kind of embarrassed but not really. Screw it. Miles is 3. He had reached his limit in the store.

So, instead of saying, "I'm sorry" to the checkout guy. I simply looked at him and said,

"Do you want to babysit?"

He didn't know what to say. The ladies behind me started laughing. 

I continued, "They really aren't this bad at home. I pay well."

He just looked at me and slowly shook his head with a frightened look on his face. 

With that, I left. Kids in tow. 

So much for getting help at Target.

 

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I wear my sunglasses at night

Every so often I like to ask the kids what they want to be when they grow up. Miles doesn't know what he wants to be except for maybe a fry cook like Spongebob. Dare to dream, Miles. 

Caitlynn on the other hand is always willing to let me know her aspirations. So far she has wanted to be a doctor, a princess, a teacher, and a cook. Not too bad. I'm rather pleased with this list. That is, until I asked her the question again.  The verdict? An actress. Caitlynn dreams of becoming an actress. 

Oh boy.

She's got the look down, that's for sure. She's great at drama and overreacting to things. She likes to make home movies and have her picture taken. Sounds to me like little miss can't be wrong is well on her way to becoming the next . . . um . . . (not Miley) . . . this is too hard (not Madonna -- and I love Madge) . . . er . . . Meryl? Angelina? Julia? No, this isn't right. No actress today is like my Caitlynn.

Just call her Caty. 

Future Oscar winner.

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Father of the Children

Meet Joe, the father of my children. He's the master mind behind some of the greatest ideas of the 21st century like buying blow dart guns to calm down the kids (or shut them up). Like you've never thought of it before. Whatever.

Most of the time Joe's ideas (or the random things he says) go in one ear and out the other - my ears, that is. I have a bad habit of tuning out everything, including my husband and kids. I do this when I'm cooking, reading, writing, listening to some awesome music, folding clothes, cleaning up, watching Lost, washing the windows, clipping my toenails, sitting, eating, etc. You get the picture. Joe has grown accustomed to me tuning him out and he's always prepared to repeat his one-sided conversation to me. I often hear, "I knew you weren't listening." Yes, he's right. I wasn't listening. Did I hear something?

Until . . . I heard him mention a new punishment for the kids. On this blog, I've written about the various punishments we could start instituting around here, but won't ever do. I'm not that mean of a mom. 

Joe was tickling the kids and they were getting really wound up and it was right before bedtime. (Why do they act like caged monkeys set free right before bedtime? Why is it that kids have to run around, make a bunch of noise, and destroy the living room before falling down to go to sleep. And why does Joe have to help them accomplish this act?) As I was reading some great and wonderful blogs, I noticed the ruckus and shot Joe "the look." In order to lighten my mood and to see if I was going to pay attention to him, he says, "I'm going to string the kids up by their toes. Think that will work?" To which I replied, "Sure, go ahead."

Wait! Whoa! What?!

String the kids up by their toes? 

We have string?

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Parlez vous Français?

Maybe it's funnier in French. Let me see. Hold on...

Not really, but I like the voices better. 

You want to watch it with English subtitles? Ok. Let's try that. 

Oh, now I get the jokes. Still not funny. 

Before you start screaming at the computer -- WHAT IS SHE TALKING ABOUT?! -- I'll explain. 

Miles wants to watch his DVDs dubbed in French with English subtitles. Why? I don't know why. Don't ask me. I can't figure it out. He's still learning English, doesn't know how to read in any language, and knows the Spanish that Dora has taught him. French? Oy. 

I like French and I speak a tiny bit myself. However, I don't know enough to go to Paris and ask, "Do you know where I can get a cheeseburger?" Do they serve cheeseburgers in France? They should. Great with Pinot Noir. 

Seeing Miles play around with the DVD settings on the computer (and TV) reminded me of when I bought my first DVD player, way back in 1998. I bought a great Sony 5-disc DVD player (worked perfectly until last year). Along with it, I received coupons for 5 free DVDs at Suncoast Video (probably not around any longer). One of the movies I purchased was Goodfellas. I love mobster movies, with this being one of my favorites. After I got home and set up the player, I decided to watch my movie. I watched it in English first but after going through the menu, I changed it to French.

My observation: De Niro sounds really funny speaking French. (Ok -- I'm not that dense. I know it isn't him. Right?) Actually it was just odd to hear the movie in French. It didn't have the same swagger to it and it was almost comical. After that experience, I chose not to watch movies dubbed in any language. If it's a foreign film, I'd rather read the English subtitles.

Back to Miles. Miles prefers Jimmy Neutron to be dubbed in French. 

No matter what language they speak, it's still an annoying cartoon. Maybe Miles is trying to see if it's better in another language. 

He'll probably try Japanese next. 

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Making the Band

My kids are not big music fans, which is a huge bummer for me. Joe and I love music. Each time I want to crank it up, I get pleas from Caitlynn and Miles to turn it down. Party poopers. 

I saw this on Hektiklyfe's blog and thought I would play along for the sake of annoying my kids. 

1. Go to wikipedia. Click on the Random Article link in the navigation pane on the left hand side. The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band. No do overs.

2. Go to Random quotations. The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3. Go to flickr. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Use a photo editor like Paint.net which is free, to put it all together.

5. Post it with the title, "Making The Band" and TAG the friends you want to join in.

I'm not tagging anyone. If you want to play, go ahead. Otherwise... here's my album:

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MILES!

DO NOT PEE OFF THE PORCH! I repeat... DO. NOT. PEE. OFF. THE. PORCH!

We had an agreement, you and I, mother to son, that you would pee in the toilet if I allowed you to wear just your undies around the house. It was a good agreement. You were able to be free from the shackles of clothing and I didn't have to wash as many loads of laundry. You are very close, young man, to ruining our pact. 

I'm not happy with you right now. Yeah, I know I giggled a bit when I heard that you peed off the porch. Impressed with yourself? Happy that it was warm enough here to wear shorts? Good weather is not an excuse to pull your pants down and relieve yourself. However, when I caught you the second time, I was a little less than pleased.  

Who taught you this? Daddy? I don't recall ever seeing him pee of the porch. The last time he peed outside was prior to meeting me (back when Daddy was a little less civilized). Unless he's reverting his is Army days (which I highly doubt), you did not learn it from him. 

The neighbor's dog? He's allowed to pee outside. He's a dog for crying out loud. Dogs pee outside. Humans, when a perfectly good and functioning toilet is nearby, pee inside. Our toilet works. Just used it. It's wondering why you insist on peeing off the porch instead of decorating the bathroom with streaks of yellow.

So, Miles do you understand now? Peeing off the porch is unacceptable behavior in our household. Ignore the neighbors. They're weird. Pay attention to me, you mom. I don't care that Bobby's mommy next door allow him to "go" outside. You, my son, will not be whipping it out and "going" anywhere you please. 

Thanks for listening, Miles. I hope we don't need to address this again...

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Lost in Translation

"What?"

That's what people often say to Miles. "What did you say?" He often speaks as if he has marbles in his mouth. Maybe he does. Let me look. Nope, no marbles. Marshmallows, yes but no marbles. 

Hello, I'm the official translator for Miles. I'll will be here to interpret what he's about to say. Let's get started.

Miles?

"I want lkwieof liekhiaxf. K?"

Oh. Ok. Um... well, Miles' birthday is coming up and he's requesting a Red Ryder BB Gun. No, wait...that's Ralphie. Sorry, wrong kid. Rather, Miles wants a Spiderman cake to commemorate his big day. 

Is there anything else, Mr. Miles?

"I want mieksow woeklje wqpvovs. And oinwelmf woi;fasn. Vroom!"

Timmy fell down the well?

No... I need a minute here... Quiet, please.

Got it. Miles would like a Nintendo DS and a car, an Audi R8. Wow. That's pretty expensive. We can probably swing the Nintendo DS but the car might have to wait for a long, long (really, really long) time. You should ask Caitlynn when you reach your 21st birthday. She wants to be an actress. I'm sure she'll be making millions by then. 

Is that all?

"Yes."

Great. Thanks for being so clear. 

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