Comments (1) To any Moms out there who need a laugh today: I beg you, take 3 minutes and 15 seconds of your time and watch this HILARIOUS video!!(I had to watch it twice to catch it all, but I laughed just as hard the second time through!)
No wonder we are so tired at the end of the day.
My second grade daughter came home from school the other day with her reading and writing homework. Part of the homework was to write three sentences about what she wants to do when she grows up…or if she doesn’t know what she personally wants to do, then what some other grownup that she knows does. Did the teacher REALLY CARE what she wrote about?? NO! Obviously, he just wanted to see three coherent sentences!!
Ah ha, but you must understand that my oldest daughter is a Drama Queen (DQ for short). And not just any kind of DQ, she is a Perfectionist DQ. She has inherited all my “best” traits.
According to family legend, this particular daughter has been sent down to curse me for the Oscar winning performance given by “moi” when I was probably about my daughter’s age and had just gotten my tonsils out. I put on quite the show of theatrics and emotion, refusing to eat or drink for days. Goodness, it was so great that even I remember it!
My one-child performance was finally brought to a grinding halt by my no-nonsense physician-father who threatened me with an IV if I didn’t start eating and drinking ASAP. And wouldn’t you know it, I was CURED. Immediately. Completely. Sore throat? What sore throat?
Anyhow, back to my daughter who is way worse than I ever was. By the way, I know that she really IS worse than me because this fact is unanimously agreed upon by all family members who were direct witnesses to my Oscar winning moment. So let’s return to her writing assignment.
She didn’t know what she wanted to be. (Sob, sob, sob) And she didn’t want to write about Daddy. (Sob sob, sob) Didn’t want to write about Auntie. (WAIL! WAIL! Sob, sob, sob) Didn’t want to write about Pop Pop. (Hand on the forehead, WAIL, WAIL, sob, sob, sob).
After a careful explanation about how her teacher was really not expecting a Pulitzer Prize-winning three sentence chef-d’oeuvre, I made the mistake of saying:
“Well, what about me? What do I do all day?”
My daughter stopped sobbing and looked at me with an expression that said that she was completely perplexed that I would ever ask such a question.
Her response:
“Nothing.”
Yes. I do NOTHING all day long. My 7 year-old daughter is finally on to me. I lie on the sofa and take naps. I take long, luxurious baths with expensive French bath salts. I drink very old Bordeaux while reclining in the sun on the back deck.
Yes. The laundry does itself. Groceries magically materialize in the fridge and the pantry. Meals make themselves. Beds make themselves. The pets feed themselves. The house tidies itself. The litter boxes scoop themselves. The car drives the children to and from school by itself. The garden weeds and waters itself. The bills pay themselves. Cat vomit magically flies off the carpet back into the cat. And of course the baby changes and disposes of her own dirty diapers (don’t all babies do that?).
Admittedly, none of what I do now is very exciting to a child, or to anyone for that matter. But I did have quite an adventurous life pre-momhood, and my daughter knows that! I had kind of thought she might want to write about having a Mom who can fly a plane for example.
But no. All that is forgotten. Mom is just the dreary boring old thing that drones on about picking up the toys and doing the homework. The automaton. The background noise. The “snow” on our no-channel TV. The Nothing.
CAUTION: YOU MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 21 TO READ THIS POST.
The other day my 7 year-old daughter went to feed the sea monkeys and yelled to me: “Hey Mom! Come here, I have to show you something really interesting!” As I approached my daughter whose eyes were riveted on the sea monkey tank, she said, “Look Mom, they’re stuck together! Why are they stuck together?”
I look, and sure enough, two sea monkeys were “stuck together.” (Please refer to the *x*-r@ted sea monkey photo - sorry it is a bit blurry but it is not easy photographing mating sea monkeys, especially with a mediocre digital camera).
I attempt to mutter some lie about how I am really not sure why they are stuck together when my daughter spots some nearly microscopic babies swimming near the bottom of the tank, which successfully divert her attention from the attached sea monkeys.
OK. We clearly have sea monkey hanky panky going on here. Wild sea monkey o*gies* are taking place in my home but I am simply not ready to be explaining to my 7 year-old why the sea monkeys are “stuck together.” Honestly, the fact that sea monkeys ever even would be “stuck together” is news to me. That shows how much I know!
But, having no life and being of a nerdy mentality I had to know more. After the kids had gone to bed and I was free to research naughty sea monkey behaviors without fear of being discovered, I started to check it all out online. Here are the Sea Monkey Facts of Life as I interpret them from what I have spent way too much time researching:
- Sea monkeys are either male or female, not hermaphrodite like worms for example.
- If no willing mate is available, then a female can reproduce without fertilization of her eggs, called parthenogenesis, “self-conception” (my Sea Monkey females seem to have plenty of willing males to help them out however).
- Males have a long traily tail and females of breeding age have a visible egg sack (I just thought they were constipated…oops).
- Males sometimes compete with each other to be favored by an eligible female (Wow! Just like human males!)
- The mating thing takes a long time (I can tell you that from my own observations) - sometimes several weeks according to this site!
- If the conditions are not really right for the hatching of the eggs (water temperature too cold for example), the eggs can live on indefinitely without hatching. They will hatch when the optimum conditions occur.
- The eggs can actually sometimes hatch inside the female in which case the female gives birth to the babies at the bottom of the tank. (Can she have an epidural?)
Want more sea monkey dirt? Then check out these informative sites:
Sea Monkey Geek
Sea Monkey Worship Page
Sea Monkey Mania
Official Sea Monkey Website
- (“Sea Monkey Reproduction” at The Official Sea Monkey Website)
Today I promise not to bore you all once again with tales of my A-list vegetables…but how about my new A-list eggs!
A-list eggs are fresh from the chicken. They come in a carton of twelve, just like grocery store eggs, but they are all different sizes, colors and even shapes!!! Not the uniform white or brown varieties that look like they were made in a factory in China, along with everything else in this world today. You can sense the happiness, exuberance, and individual personalities of the chickens that laid these A-list eggs.
The shells are rough, not smooth and porcelain-like. The thickness of the shell seems to vary from egg to egg also. Do stubborn chickens lay eggs with thicker shells?
In my opinion, the yolk is what sets a fresh egg apart from its copycat grocery store cousins. When you crack a “really happy egg” into a frying pan, the yolk stands up straight and doesn’t seem to want hide itself by melting away into everything else. It stands tall and proud. It is an egg of honor. It is an egg with good self-esteem.
When you eat a happy egg, the yolk has the consistency and texture of sweet cream fresh from the cow. It coats the tongue in a most delightful way.
Signs of egg freshness:
Overheard this evening:
5 year-old son (5): “I would like to tie 18 balloons to my winkie and float into the sky.”
My husband (Dad): “Would you really want to be dragged up into the sky by your winkie????”
5: (thoughtful)
Dad: “What if it fell off?”
5: “Well, then I wouldn’t be able to pee.”
Dad: “Well, I guess we all get dragged through life by our winkies.”
5: “If it fell off, I wouldn’t be able to think!”
I learned two things from this conversation:
1) My 5 year-old has life figured out already!
2) It is no wonder that my brain cells are dying off one by one.
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