A game of guess who

Guess who has squinty eyes, big chompers and says Paw Paw?

This girl.

Guess who's almost 60 years old and had the audacity to be offended that that girl didn't say Gamma as well?

My mom.

That's right. My mom was miffed because despite the fact that the two spent the entire day together yesterday, Mary Clare would only say Paw Paw.

Whatever, lady. Join the club. You won't be getting any sympathy from me. I'm just the nameless woman who gave birth to your granddaughter.

Brennan's bests

Brennan has quite a personality on him. He comes by this honestly. I mean, his mom, right? And then there's his dad, who is rather shameless when it comes to getting a laugh.

So while I'm not surprised by Brennan's current quirks, I am nonetheless delighted by them. And so I'm pleased to bring you Brennan's bests, the summer edition:

• When they're in the car, he tells Sherri "be careful mom" when she's driving. But he doesn't make a peep when Brian is driving.


• Holly is "MY Holly", and he chastises Sherri and Brian when they pet "MY Holly."


• After telling Sherri and Brian that "MY Holly is MY friend," she asked if Hunter was his friend as well. No response. So she asked again. Still no response. Poor Hunter.


• Brennan is constantly on the lookout for tractors, cows, horses and trains while they're in the car. Once he finds them, he tells Sherri, "Okay, let's find more, mom."

• The other night B threw a raging five-minute fit before bedtime. Not one of his best moments, but clearly, these things happen. What made the situation funny -- in hindsight and because I'm not his mom -- was that he requested a "boo-boo aid" for his head. So Sherri complied, despite the fact that there is no boo-boo behind that Band-Aid. However, Sherri surmised that after the show he put on, there was a strong chance he did have one heck of a headache.


• Brennan is totally tuned into babies -- anyone younger than him being a baby -- and points them out to Sherri with great excitement. I think this is a good thing.


• When asked, he consistently responds that he is going to have a baby sister. My mom thinks this is a great thing.

That B. You can't help but love him.

Sharing is good

I need to share.

It's nothing inappropriate. Or elaborate. Just a smattering of random things I've been thinking or doing these days. Separately, they would probably be more appropriate for a Facebook or Twitter post (if I Twittered, that is), but frankly, I'm too chicken. I would much rather be judged by my 12 blog readers versus my 222 Facebook friends. Plus there are no character limits here, and we all know I do like my words.

So here you go. This is your punishment for reading my blog. Take that, you dirty dozen.

It's Like Glee in My Car
That Michael Buble song, "Haven't Met You Yet"? It makes me do jazz hands. Especially right around the 3:05 part. I blame the horns leading into it. Brass makes me giddy.

Anyway, the jazz hands are like a reflex. A really bad reflex that gets me laughed at by teenagers in the car next to me. So that happened. And it's as awesome as you would think.



Better Thyself, Already
Today I used the word cacophony in some copy. I love it. I love that I knew the definition, knew how to spell it and knew that it was the exact word I needed for that particular sentence. That's my job, people. What I don't love is that when it comes to me writing emails and blog posts, or even talking, the words you are most likely to hear are:

• so
• anyway
• totally
• whatever
• yeah
• however
• hey
  

And those are just the ones that I can say without making my mom mad. Which brings me to my next point.

Bring out the Life Buoy
When did I get such a potty mouth? Or maybe I should ask, when did I become aware that I have such a potty mouth? Seriously, I drop the F-bomb like it's my job, and more often I do it at work. Because that's appropriate. I say s-h-i-t far more than necessary, and I most certainly do not use damn as a verb. What is wrong with me? I need to get my shit* together fast or who knows what is going to come out of Mary Clare's mouth**. Because there is no way I can blame this one on Chip. (Now, if she points at the bottle of Maker's Mark and says "mo, mo" that's all on him.)

*I hope you'll agree with me that sometimes a curse word just says it best.
**I personally think it's funny when kids curse. Just not my kid.

The A Word
Chip dropped the A word on me yesterday. And I'm not talking about alimony. Well, close, but the still-married version of alimony.

ALLOWANCE

You see, I'm not such a good saver. If it's automatically deducted from my account, I'm golden. And I'm pretty good if I have a goal, like a new car or something. But even then I have to play tricks on myself and "deduct" a car payment from my checkbook every month.

Well, we got the new car in December. But I'm not the one making the car payments. Or continuing to "deduct" the amount from my checkbook. No, no, I'm just spending all willy-nilly, and that Chip guy never says anything about it. He just raises his two-story eyebrows and gives me a weary smile.

No dire circumstances of any sort, but clearly I need to be stopped. Before there are dire circumstances. Or dreams not realized because I have four pairs of white pants. So I think the car payments will now be coming out of my account. And that's good. It was my idea, actually. Anything to avoid the dreaded allowance.

And, Scene
You're free to go. Until next time, my dears.

Tyranosauraus Chip

Brennan is very into dinosaurs these days. I don't know that he actually has any dinosaurs, but he sure does talk about them a lot. And worries about them getting him. Or Holly. But not so much Hunter.

So, yes. Dinosaurs. Big part of B's life right now. So you can imagine my concern when he woke up this morning and told Sherri, "Mommy, Uncle Chip has dinosaurs."

I'm not sure where Chip's stashing them, but it could explain why Mary Clare has been shrieking so much lately.

Resigned to his fate

Oh, Buddy. Poor, sweet Buddy. The love and bane of his sister's existence, all rolled up into one furry, patient package.

She loves him. She hates him. She kisses him. She slaps him. She climbs on him. She won't go near him. She shares Cheerios. She hoards Cheerios. Come here, come here, come here. Get away, get away, get away!

The guy cannot catch a break. And now that Mary Clare has added shrieking to her bag of tricks, it's a wonder Senor Buddy hasn't packed his pinata, thrown on his sombrero and hightailed it back across the border.

Buddy has every reason in the world to bite her. But he doesn't. But if he could talk, I'm certain he would toss off a curt "you're not the boss of me," swish his tail and tippy-tap his way out of the room.

I'm telling you, the men in this house? They're saints. Saints.

He's the best

You all know I think Chip's the best.

Clearly, Mary Clare agrees with me on this one.

Could there be a better daddy? She thinks not.

Happy father's day to my wonderful husband, and to those two dads of ours who also happen to be not only great fathers, but an excellent Gramps and a fantastic Paw Paw to our little girl.

They had fun

They had fun. Oh, did they have fun.

While the adults unpacked boxes, built fences, cleaned the house, shopped for furniture and cooked up a storm, Brennan kept an eye on things. And Mary Clare kept an eye on Brennan. If he was there, so was she. And if he was going somewhere, you better believe she wasn't going to be left behind.

Same goes for baking cookies with Grandma. This was Mary Clare's first foray into what is usually a Brennan-only activity, but he graciously allowed her to bake cookies with "MY Grandma." She stuck her little finger into every single one, ate the dough and dropped a dish of blue sprinkles on the floor, so there's a strong chance she won't be giving a repeat performance anytime soon. I think both Brennan and Grandma could use the break.

More photos of the baking fun and a few of the Jones' new house to come.

UPDATE 6.24.10: The photos of the new house and the baking bash are posted. Enjoy.

Purchased and packed

I mean, really, who am I to deny a pregnant woman her cravings?

Three for $5 at Dierberg's. Dierberg's! Major score for not having to visit an actual gas station to get Sherri her favorite potato chips. Oh, and how about that price? Clearly, I'll spare no expense when it comes to keeping my sister happy.

Reason #268 why my sister is funny without meaning to be

This upcoming weekend Chip is taking off to exotic Neosho, Mo., for a golf weekend with his Pike buddies. Since Buddy, Mary Clare and I don't take kindly to being deserted, we're heading to KC with my parents to visit the Joneses.

I'm very excited about our trip. One, I cannot wait to see the Jones' new house and stroll about their lush acreage. Two, I miss Brennan, who is talking a blue streak and recently started putting his rubber ducks in time out for fighting during bath time. Third, tagging along with my parents means I don't have to single parent it this weekend, which, let's be honest, is the whole reason I'm going in the first place.

So, I'm talking to my sister yesterday about the weekend, and I ask if there's anything she wants me to bring from St. Louis. You know, Andria's steak sauce, Ted Drewe's frozen custard, specialty groceries from Viviano's ... that sort of thing.

Sherri: No, I think I'm good.
Me: Are you sure?
Sherri: Well, if you get by a gas station, I would like some Old Vienna Red Hot Riplets.
Me: Some what?
Sherri: Old. Vienna. Red. Hot. Riplets. You know, potato chips.
Me: Wait. I thought you had crippling heart burn?
Sherri: Whatever. I'll have heartburn no matter what I eat. Just bring them.

Water woman

Last weekend we strolled up to Tower Grove Park so Mary Clare could try out the fountain and pop jets for the first time. It was a holiday weekend and hotter than all get out, so the place was a zoo.

Mary Clare silently took in the scene. Buddy gazed longingly at the water. Chip and I stared nervously at the chaotic scene. And all the concrete.

I know, I know. We often needlessly worry. But still, there were a lot of bigger kids tearing around on a lot of unforgiving concrete. Oh, and the most water activity Mary Clare had seen recently was in the bath tub, which she just so happened to hate for a few weeks in May. So, first-time parent neuroses aside, I think we had reasonable cause for concern.

Of course, Mary Clare failed to pick up on our concern. Upon being released from her stroller, she charged the pop jets, sliced her little hands through the water, stomped the puddles and dodged the big kids like a pro. It wasn't long before she trotted over to the main fountain, and promptly stuck her little head under the avalanche of water. She emerged, rubbed the water out of her eyes and screamed. In delight.

My word, did she ever have fun. Running, stomping, squealing and getting completely soaked. We heard a lot of "Look at that baby!" and a few "If that little girl can stick her head in the water, so can you." Mary Clare was oblivious to it all, darting under the water and chasing down the shooting water jets before they went away. Occasionally she would turn around and make sure we were still nearby, but I'm pretty sure that's just because she wanted a ride home.

Click here for more shots of the water woman at work.

It's a slippery slope

I know I don't really need any new clothes. I know this. And Mary Clare, she of the 25 summer dresses, most certainly does not need new clothes. Even Chip is stocked up on his business shirts. And Buddy has eight dog collars. Eight. So, really, it makes perfect sense that I've reined in my online shopping habit over the past few months.

However.

I really miss coming home to packages on the front porch. Even though I knew what was in the packages. Even though I (okay, we) paid for the items in the packages. Even though I most certainly didn't need the stuff.

But still. The packages were fun. So shiny and new.

And really, today is one of those days when I would have most loved to come home to a new pair of shoes. Shoes for any of us, really. Flip flops, even. Flip flops would have been great.

But that's dangerous talk. Crazy talk. So I'll just picture my mom shaking her head at me as she says, "It's a good deal, but only if you need it. And there's a big difference between want and need."

But still. New things are so nice. Especially when work is yucky.