Our Mudroom Smells Like Stinky Feet

Just so you know, yes we are fully cognizant of the odor that assaults your senses when you walk in our back door.  Or our front door. A summer of Crocs, flip flops, and sweaty tennis shoes = that stale locker room stench I had to endure every day for my job way back in my days of teaching PE and coaching.

Yuck.

Sorry.

So Everyone Is Aware

I was working on a post last week and John asked if I was writing about how awesome he is.  "Yes. Of course I am." was my reply, which was not true.  Yes, he is awesome. No, I was not actively making a public declaration.

I am making one now.  John Laird is awesome.

If it's possible (and I'm not sure it is), he would be even MORE awesome if he would wear this shirt I saw on the playground today:

 

 He said he would not.

We'll see.

Don't Quit The Day Job, Lady.

The Trips filled out one of those super-cute questionnaires about me at school a while back, in what was supposed to be a "Kids say the darnedest things" exercise.  I ended up nearly devastated.  Not because they all listed me as being in my 80's (really, who cares).  No, it's that none of them thought I was funny.  I know I'm not hilarious, not even close.  That title belongs to my sister and a couple other people I've met along the way in my years of existence.

So apparently I am some sort of ogre.  Not funny and certainly not cute, at least in the eyes of three of my children.  Okay, okay, I look nice when I go to weddings and birthday parties, which was three times last year. 

John tried to be The Hero and pulled each kid aside and told them to LIE and tell me I was funny.  Here's how it went down:

I overhear John whispering to Johnny "Go tell Mommy she's funny".

Johnny: "Hey Mommy."

Me: "Yes, Johnny?"

Johnny: "She's funny."

Me: "Who's funny?"

Johnny:  {Shoulder shrug}  "I don't know."  Walks away.

Cue Gracie, who does the Gracie swagger to the kitchen.

Gracie:  "Hey Mommy. You're funny."  Then, over her shoulder as she walks away: "But you're really not."

Me: "Thanks, Gracie."

NEXT!

Lizzy: "Hey  Mommy.  Daddy told me to tell you you're funny."  Walks away.

Me: "Thanks, Lizzy."

It's fairly obvious I have some work to do on my stand-up.

An example of the offensive opinions from the peanut gallery.

By the way, they are RARELY told to eat all their dinner.

Indoctrination

I took the kids to the high school track awhile ago to run the crazy out of them.  They're always asking question after question after question about the place anyway, and since we had absolutely nothing {free}to do, it seemed like a reasonable idea to pile everyone into the car and pop over to check it out.  I hadn't seen the new field anyway, so I figured it would be a winner.  It was.

Of course they HAD to run the track (they didn't know it was the only option), which led to "Running On The Track 101".  It was one of the few times they have ever been slightly fascinated with what was coming out of my mouth.  Annie didn't care to stay in her lane.  Everyone else was thrilled to have something that was all theirs.

Yes, I know it isn't the true 100m start.  It was hot, they had already passed it, and I was already flirting with irritating them.  So we compromised to try our first "Runners to your mark" stance.  They thought they were they were so speedy-quick.  Kidlets, Momma won't make you run, but maybe you could humor me for a season or two? Please?

Can't go to a stadium without jumping and rolling and cartwheeling in the end zone.  It's so super-cool. They thought, and still believe, they are super-cool. 

Got to get 'em hooked while they're young. :)

Two Steps Forward, One Giant Step Back

One of the kids was clearly not using her sweet little head tonight and "asked" me to be quiet.  To give her a wee bit of credit she did ask in a polite voice and she did say "please".  However, this is obviously a question that is not to be tolerated.  A question a child should never, unless in an emergency situation, ask an adult, at least in this house. 

This incident falls into the "giant step forward" category because everyone else but Annie had an "Oh, Snap!" moment, stopped what they were doing, whipped their heads around, eyes and ears wide open to see how badly Mommy was going to lose it.  It's nice to know that somewhere, tucked away in their internal files, they know that some comments are disrespectful to adults. So...hooray?

But then, within 5 minutes of a little victory, I stumbled across this:

Apparently, it is excruciatingly difficult to toss dirty clothes in a basket I positioned in the un-classiest yet most-convenient location. They almost had to put more effort in order to miss.

We'll get there.