Ginger Unplugged

I want to be Watson. Like, really. And no one understands (except perhaps my mother and how pathetic is that). So here's my logic. The Short Answer: He can shoot anything, anywhere. It's a fact--shooting stuff is just cool. He gets to go on dozens of adventures without the stress of everything (or oftentimes anything) depending on him. He still gets family and friends of which Sherlock has neither (outside of Watson). He has his own distinguished medical career, so if he shoots someone accidentally he can just fix them up.  He gets to be the writer. Shooting, adventure, friends, family, doctor-ness, and writing. What's not to love about being Watson? Honestly. The Long Answer: I don't know when I first read The Hound of the Baskervilles but I will admit to being disappointed. Severely disappointed. I also remember reading it again some years later, because surely I must have missed something. I was so bored, I'm not even sure I finished it that s...

A caring friend bought me a book a while ago called something like How to Cope, Now That You Have Children Smarter Than You . Okay, that's not really the title but that's what the title really means. At least, I think it does. I'll ask one of my kids and report back... Anyway. I'm embarrassed that I haven't made it all the way through yet but I did start taking the book's suggestions immediately. Suggestion #1: "Thank your children in advance for good behavior." The reasoning goes that it shows your good faith in them and inspires them to follow through with what you asked. Easy, right? This is how it looked at our house. Me: Thank you, Princess, for putting your shoes away. Princess: Uh, I haven't taken my shoes off yet, Mom. (Looks at me like I've dropped a few IQ points.) Me: Yes well, I'm thanking you in advance. Princess: Okaaaaaaay...? Try number two: Me: Thanks, Crash for taking out the trash. Crash: I didn't ...

I always thought my kids would whine things like, "But Mom! Everybody's doing it!" And, "Just this once!" My kids? No. They whine, "But Mom! The moon phase is perfect for it!" And you know what? I have to give in. I've been preparing for the other whines for a decade. With the moonphase argument...I got nothing.

Tom Clancy once said, "Every person you meet is another opportunity to learn." He said it like it was a good thing, but after my latest camping experience I've just had a crash course in people--and it wasn't my favorite. We pulled into camp to find a boyscout troop taking up one of the areas and three single guys taking up all the rest. My dad quickly made friends with RON who said we could share his fire pit. JOE said we were good to pull in as well. Unfortunately, we didn't check with LARRY as he wasn't even in our immediate vicinity. Had I known about LEO, we may never have pulled in at all. Before we'd been there long, Larry (the guy we didn't check with) had turned up his eclectic oldies-country-jazz-big band music as loud as he could without blowing a speaker, then waited for me to go fight with him about it. Honestly, some of it wasn't bad, but I swear he was trying to find all his B-sides. I was really nice as I told him my "s...

Crash: The earth will be in the same place it was when I was born in one month and twelve days. Me: You mean on your birthday? Crash: Yeah but "birthday" is a dumb name for it. Every day is a day. Only one day a year is when the earth is in the right spot for my birthday. Me: Okay, well, we'll be wishing you a Happy Birth-the-earth-is-in-the-same-spot-relative-to-the-sun-as-it-was-the-day-you-were-born-day when you turn twelve then. Crash: Thanks, Mom. It's so nice you understand me. Okay, I made that last line up. I don't really understand him and he knows it. But I try.

Crash got the following fortune the last time we dared eat out with the entire family: Your light heart will help you through trials. "Whatever!" he said. Then dumped soy sauce all over his shirt while goofing off. For some reason this embarrassed him immensely and he felt really bad about it. We all assured him it wasn't that bad and no one would notice (yes, we were lying). He decided to tuck his shirt in clear to his chest thinking this would somehow help him exit the restaurant inconspicuously. The rest of us laughed so hard everyone noticed, but Crash didn't care anymore. He was laughing too. So we all honor our fortune cookies a little more now and reverence the beautiful truth: Your light heart will help you through trials.

It sounds like screaming singing.

Like all Moms I hate the phrase, "Mom! What should I do?" I usually claim I can think of lots of things and start giving them work around the house until they magically come up with something to do on their own. Trouble is, they're so well trained now, most of the housework I actually want them to do (those things besides painting the bathrooms or pruning the roses) is actually done. So I got out a list Butterfly's online school sent me for the summer. "40 Things To Do The Next Time You Are Bored!" I told Crash--surprisingly the most bored of my children--that when he asked me for something to do I'd make him pick a number and he'd have to do whatever the list said. He quickly chose #27. "Order a pizza." I accused him of cheating and hid the list but to prove I wasn't kidding, I ordered him a pizza. Paybacks were today when he chose #4. "Bead some bracelets and sell them for charity." The bracelets turned into toe rings ...

My dear friend Pat Esden (also a wonderful author) awarded me...a Stylish Blogger award. Thanks, Pat! I'm so flattered. I highly recommend Pat's fun and fantastical writing blog where she always makes me think. You can check it out here: Pat Esden . She is well worth following. Even the late, great Pearl S. Buck is one of her fans. Along with the award comes a few responsibilities. 1. Thank and link to the person who nominated you. 2. Share seven random facts about yourself. 3. Pass the award along to five blogging buddies. 4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them. So here are 7 lesser known facts about moi. 1. Car chases. I have been in three. Two of these were with police and the other one ended in a crash--at least that's what the guy chasing me claimed. I didn't feel bad for him. (Thanks for the skills, Dad.) 2. I hate (despise, loathe, abhor) telling people interesting things about myself on the spot. This is why I keep a list on my iPhone, which I am no...

I thought I was getting a break from putting Monkey to bed when he asked if Butterfly could do it. She lay down in bed with him, sang him a song and told him a story. I was hoping this would become a night time ritual but then he told her he was missing something. When he finally decided it was me, he cried and cried until she came and got me to lay down with him. "Tell me a story," he said. "You just had a story." "I need another one!" "Butterfly told you one." Cry, cry, whine, whine. A little known fact about me is that I hate to tell stories out loud off the cuff. Absolutely hate it. Husband, on the other hand, is very good at it. Me? That's why I write. My extemporaneous stories are hideous. Cry, cry, whine, whine. "Fine!" I said. "Once upon a time there was a little boy who cried for everyone in the family to come and lay with him and tell him a story before he went to sleep. Mom came in. Dad came in. Ever...

After our latest soccer experience with Monkey, I think I have new insight on how cheerleaders were invented. Caveman Monkey: No! No! I don't want to play. (This lasts for most of cave soccer and involves tears, whining and attempted bribery.) Cave Mom turns to Cave Butterfly in desperation: I'll give you some sugar cane if you can get him to play. Cave Buttefly's eyes light up. She then quietly begins to work on Cave Monkey. In two minutes Cave Monkey is playing while Cave Butterfly dances and sings from the sidelines before demanding her sugar cane. Voila! A reenactment of the invention of Cave Cheerleaders. I figure it wasn't too long before leaf pom-poms, flips in the air and silly costumes were necessary to coax shy Cave Monkies to get out on the field. Still. Whatever works. Cave Moms just HAD to see their sons play soccer.

My cell phone rings at 8:45 am in Walmart. Butterfly: Mom! Come home. (Sniffle, sniffle). My head hurts SO bad! Me: Oh sweetie, really? I'm so sorry. Who's in charge? Butterfly (crying): I am. Dad took Crash somewhere. Me: Oh no. So sorry! Go up to the medicine closet and...how else are you sick? Does your stomach hurt? How are your ears? Butterfly: Oh I'm not sick. Sleestack just keeps jumping on my head! Me: Um...the baby's jumping on your head? (A lady in the aisle starts smiling at this point.) Me: Okay...wait. Don't get the medicine. First, let's just have you get your head in a place where Sleestack can't jump on it. Buttefly (whimpering): Okay. Me: Better? Butterfly: Yes. Me: Now. Get a drink of water and remember the first rule of babysitting--Never let anyone jump on your head. Buttefly: Okay. Me: Call me in twenty minutes and let me know how you're feeling. I worry about the aisle-lady's sense of closure becaus...

Monkey: Everything is just "one" until you start counting.

Okay. I just couldn't take the him wiping his meal on his shirt anymore. Those are safety pins and napkins. Notice I have ALL the bases covered. My cousin wants to market this.

Crash: What shape is this? Monkey: A parallelogram. Crash: No, sorry. It's a rhombus. A special kind of parallelogram. Until I hit Junior High I'd never even heard the word "parallelogram." Let alone "rhombus." And IS a rhombus a special parallelogram? Suddenly my college degree seems so inadequate.

Turbulence in an elevator. WHAT CAUSES TURBULENCE IN AN ELEVATOR? I was forced to ask myself this question somewhere in between floors 2 and 1 of the city library. The answer being particularly urgent since I acquired a bit of GEA (General Elevator Anxiety) after someone pushed the "UP" button while I was doing graffiti in an elevator shaft. They all have little trapdoors on the top, you know. It was a teenage thing. Anyway, in the 15 seconds it took for the elevator doors to open in the correct place on the correct floor, Princess and I came up with some theories. Extremely localized weather systems. Someone should do research on this. Gremlins. Princess has recently seen that particular Twilight Zone episode. I'm so glad there wasn't a little window for us to look through. Tribbles. Same actor, different show. Similar potential to gnaw/destroy elevator machinery resulting in my death. Okay, to tell you the truth, I only came up with three options in 15 se...

Monkey: Isn't zero a number? Me: Yes. Monkey: Then why don't we count it? From now on I think I'll refer Monkey to the other kids whenever he has questions.

Mom, why can some things be pulled and not pushed? Like what? String.

All our kids' Christmas presents are bought except for Butterfly's. When I asked her what she wanted she just said, "Surprises, lots of surprises." I really had no clue what to get her. Husband wasn't going for the live hamster, I wasn't going for the robot one. What else is there? So we kept telling her all the interesting surprises she could get: rocks, underwear, nothing. Finally, she started to worry and wrote a letter to Santa. I actually don't think she believes in Santa but as soon as the kids stop believing in the tooth fairy she quits paying up. So Butterfly's hedging her bets in more ways than one. Her letter says: Christmas Dear Santa, I want (See...she's usually much more gracious than this.) A makeup kit CANDY!! Hair kit Face glasses Julrey D.S.I. (blue) Camra Spy romot car Scooter Skates Gift card for iTunes Mario Bro's Wii Princess Crowns 2 more Wii controllers Guitar Strings Trampoline Lipstick St...

Monkey's preschool teacher (who is undoubtedly THE best preschool teacher in existence) did this little interview, typed it up and gave it to me for Thanksgiving. What store would you buy a turkey from? "The turkey store, Ms. Cathy. Everyone knows that." How much do you think a turkey would cost? "Three." How would you cook a turkey, Monkey? "Get three turkeys and put them on the grill. You can eat some toast but no jelly while you are waiting for the turkey to cook." Monkey, would you put anything on the turkey to make it tasty? "Thank you for reminding me. Like 2 bottles of salt and 1 bottle of pepper." Obviously, a great chef in the making. And polite, too.