Before I even start, I know what you are about to think – I can read minds in advance, among my other talents and skills. I know I have been writing about my own kids a lot lately. Before you throw a toy truck at my head for doing it again, you need to know that Wesley is like a little comedienne, only he isn’t even trying to be funny. I think lots of kids are like that but I hit the jackpot with this guy. He provides a lot of potential writing material.
We were out last night and decided to have dinner at a little café in Elk City. And by café, I don’t mean romantic little restaurant with lots of charm and ambiance – I mean little restaurant with mounted animal heads on the wall and a salad bar chock full of iceberg lettuce. And no background music at all, which means you can hear every little sound in there. But the food is good and there aren’t a whole lot of choices, so…
When we walked in it was pretty empty, only about three other tables had customers at them. We were led to the corner (they always put us in the corner – what is it about a frazzled couple with two young boys that makes them think we should be in the corner?!?). On the way to our table, we went past an older couple and I noticed with fear that the man had an eye patch. Not fear because I have a phobia of eye patches but because of what was going to happen next.
Sure enough, when we got to the table, the chatter started and quickly turned into conversation about eye patches. Or maybe I should type it like it was spoken – EYE PATCHES. Because the volume of my son was more like the volume you would need to carry on a conversation during a Metallica concert. And with no background music at all, we were sort of stuck.
I whispered to my son ,”We don’t talk about other people’s eye patches – it could hurt their feelings.” But it was answered like this: “WHY CAN’T WE TALK ABOUT HIS EYE PATCH? IS HE A PIRATE? CAN I BE A PIRATE FOR HALLOWEEN?” I finally let him eat the little packets of jelly on the table with a knife – it was the only trick I had to offer. The eye patch was quickly forgotten.
Poor eye patch guy.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
don't try this at home
Bryan has been working a different kind of schedule lately. He has been gone for a week at a time, leaving me to be a single mom to our two youngsters. It is tiring. So last night, I collapsed into bed and noticed that I was feeling a little light-headed (probably from some serious chemical deficiency like potassium or chocolate). I thought, “Great, I’ll probably pass out in my sleep and Wesley won’t be able to wake me up in the morning.” And then I started thinking about what would happen if Wesley really couldn’t wake me up for some reason. I tried to imagine exactly what would happen and my little vision ended with Wesley wandering in the street until some neighbor found him…
Well, that whole experience made me realize that we have never discussed what to do if Mommy trips on a toy car, breaking all her limbs, and passes out from the pain. It’s not like the old days when we were taught to “dial 911.” It isn’t that easy anymore. I mean, I can’t even find my own stinking cell phone half the time – how would I expect my three year old to find it in an emergency?
I started the lesson by asking Wesley what he would do if Mommy couldn’t walk or talk and needed help. He just stared at me blankly – I could see that there were some ideas in his mind – ideas like climb up on the forbidden top bunk and play with the blender…so I tried to steer him in the right direction. I told him that he would need to call the police. Then I got my cell phone and gave him a lesson in how to dial 911 and hit “send.” It was complicated by the facts that he doesn’t know the number “9” yet and that he doesn’t really know which button is “send.” And that you can’t actually practice it or you call the police for real. Hmmmm.
I also tried to impress upon him the importance of NOT dialing this unless there is really an emergency. I told him if he called the number and there wasn’t an emergency, the police would come to our house. Telling him this was a bad idea. Three year old boys WANT the police to come to their house – the only thing better than the police at your house is a pet elephant that can tap dance. Which led to this conversation:
Wes: I need to use your phone a minute.
Me: Why?
Wes: I am going to call the police.
Me: Wes, remember, we don’t call them unless there is a real emergency.
Wes: I am going to tell them some bad news. That once a house was on fire somewhere. And that Wyatt hit me this morning with a block. It’s an emergency, Mommy.
Three and a half might have been too young for this lesson. Suddenly the vision of Wesley wandering in the street and a neighbor finding him doesn’t seem so bad.
Well, that whole experience made me realize that we have never discussed what to do if Mommy trips on a toy car, breaking all her limbs, and passes out from the pain. It’s not like the old days when we were taught to “dial 911.” It isn’t that easy anymore. I mean, I can’t even find my own stinking cell phone half the time – how would I expect my three year old to find it in an emergency?
I started the lesson by asking Wesley what he would do if Mommy couldn’t walk or talk and needed help. He just stared at me blankly – I could see that there were some ideas in his mind – ideas like climb up on the forbidden top bunk and play with the blender…so I tried to steer him in the right direction. I told him that he would need to call the police. Then I got my cell phone and gave him a lesson in how to dial 911 and hit “send.” It was complicated by the facts that he doesn’t know the number “9” yet and that he doesn’t really know which button is “send.” And that you can’t actually practice it or you call the police for real. Hmmmm.
I also tried to impress upon him the importance of NOT dialing this unless there is really an emergency. I told him if he called the number and there wasn’t an emergency, the police would come to our house. Telling him this was a bad idea. Three year old boys WANT the police to come to their house – the only thing better than the police at your house is a pet elephant that can tap dance. Which led to this conversation:
Wes: I need to use your phone a minute.
Me: Why?
Wes: I am going to call the police.
Me: Wes, remember, we don’t call them unless there is a real emergency.
Wes: I am going to tell them some bad news. That once a house was on fire somewhere. And that Wyatt hit me this morning with a block. It’s an emergency, Mommy.
Three and a half might have been too young for this lesson. Suddenly the vision of Wesley wandering in the street and a neighbor finding him doesn’t seem so bad.
Friday, April 16, 2010
an important note
Dear Man at the Fitness Center,
I would like to speak on behalf of all the users of the cardio equipment and BEG you to stop walking around without your shirt. I don’t care if you have just come from the pool or if you have been lifting weights or even singing show tunes to nursing home residents – put your shirt on! This is western Okla-stinkin-homa, buddy, not southern California. You are pale and hairy. So please, put your “I heart BBQ” t-shirt back on before you catch a chill.
Your friend,
Sweaty lady on the elliptical machine
I would like to speak on behalf of all the users of the cardio equipment and BEG you to stop walking around without your shirt. I don’t care if you have just come from the pool or if you have been lifting weights or even singing show tunes to nursing home residents – put your shirt on! This is western Okla-stinkin-homa, buddy, not southern California. You are pale and hairy. So please, put your “I heart BBQ” t-shirt back on before you catch a chill.
Your friend,
Sweaty lady on the elliptical machine
Thursday, April 15, 2010
rip it off!
It’s been awhile since I’ve written and it feels sort of like ripping off a band-aid – I just need to do it fast and not think about it. And it will probably leave a little patch of hairless skin afterwards.
Since it has been so long, I feel as if I need to update you on the cast of usual characters. So here goes:
Bryan has quit his teaching job and now works in the oil field again. It’s the same kind of job he had a year and a half ago – the kind of job that makes money. He is still the same guy with perhaps a little less hair on his head. Don’t tell him I said that.
Wesley is three years old, going on thirty. The other day we were driving and the radio was on sort of in the background and he exclaimed, “I haven’t heard this song in years!” He only eats grilled cheese, which makes him a grilledcheese-atarian. Not even chicken nuggets. It’s very un-American and irritating. He is outgrowing a lot of his fears so now we can drive through the automatic car wash without listening to him sob. That is nice.
Wyatt will be two in June. His hobbies include crying for no reason, hitting people with random objects, and climbing things. He is trying to get a good jump on the terrible twos, apparently. Unlike his brother, he will eat pretty much anything, including mouthfuls of dirt. He is terrified of all animals, especially the neighbor’s dogs. He has his daddy wrapped around his sticky little finger.
I finally sold enough of our personal belongings on ebay to purchase a nice camera. This purchase made me instantly into a professional photographer. Or at least I could be one for Halloween. The first couple months that I had the camera, I pretty much took a lot of crappy pictures for free because I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’m getting better. Now I only take crappy pictures some of the time. I still have the home daycare. I love it with the same fondness that one might love a lingering case of hemorrhoids.
There now, that didn’t hurt a bit.
Since it has been so long, I feel as if I need to update you on the cast of usual characters. So here goes:
Bryan has quit his teaching job and now works in the oil field again. It’s the same kind of job he had a year and a half ago – the kind of job that makes money. He is still the same guy with perhaps a little less hair on his head. Don’t tell him I said that.
Wesley is three years old, going on thirty. The other day we were driving and the radio was on sort of in the background and he exclaimed, “I haven’t heard this song in years!” He only eats grilled cheese, which makes him a grilledcheese-atarian. Not even chicken nuggets. It’s very un-American and irritating. He is outgrowing a lot of his fears so now we can drive through the automatic car wash without listening to him sob. That is nice.
Wyatt will be two in June. His hobbies include crying for no reason, hitting people with random objects, and climbing things. He is trying to get a good jump on the terrible twos, apparently. Unlike his brother, he will eat pretty much anything, including mouthfuls of dirt. He is terrified of all animals, especially the neighbor’s dogs. He has his daddy wrapped around his sticky little finger.
I finally sold enough of our personal belongings on ebay to purchase a nice camera. This purchase made me instantly into a professional photographer. Or at least I could be one for Halloween. The first couple months that I had the camera, I pretty much took a lot of crappy pictures for free because I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’m getting better. Now I only take crappy pictures some of the time. I still have the home daycare. I love it with the same fondness that one might love a lingering case of hemorrhoids.
There now, that didn’t hurt a bit.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Okiemom is back on the prowl
Cough, cough. (That's from all the dust that just flew out of my keyboard when I opened it to type.) Well, in case you didn't notice, I have been on a little blog-cation for a few months but I am making my reappearance. Some of you have even mentioned my absence. This warms my spleen - makes me feel like if I really disappeared, someone might come check on me before my body had time to COMPLETELY decompose. Thanks, friends. I promise to be back in full swing soon.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
what are you tryin to say, kid?
Yesterday I was outside with the kids and we were discussing a very important topic – the superhero, Underdog.
“Underdog is a good guy and he saves people and he can fly because he has a cape!” one little girl told me.
So I asked the girls, “Does that mean that if I had a cape, I could fly?”
The little girls looked at me and then at eachother and then one told me hesitantly, “Maybe, but you would need a really big cape.”
“Underdog is a good guy and he saves people and he can fly because he has a cape!” one little girl told me.
So I asked the girls, “Does that mean that if I had a cape, I could fly?”
The little girls looked at me and then at eachother and then one told me hesitantly, “Maybe, but you would need a really big cape.”
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
letter to the chief
Dear President Obama,
I’ve been watching the news a lot lately and have noticed that we seem to be having a bit of a “recession.” Have you seen the news coverage on it? Well, I am not sure how you plan on monitoring it and how all of you fellas in Washington plan to decide when it is officially over, but I have a little idea for you to think about.
This morning I was sitting in the living room, playing with some of my “friends” and I felt something odd. It was a little breezy. I looked down and there, looking back at me, was my underwear. A giant hole had worn through my jeans. Perhaps this is because I only have two pair and I have to wash and wear them both so often. But here is the problem: my family’s $40 a month clothing budget has already been spent! It seems that my 15 month old son didn’t get the memo about hard economic times and has had the audacity to KEEP GROWING so I’ve already spent the $40 on pants for him. This leaves me at a loss about what to do now: do I make myself a nice pair of winter cut-offs or do I just go down to one pair of jeans? What would Michelle do?
My husband and I are pretty average people. We both went to college. We have two kids and might even think about working on having the average 2.3 once this economy turns around. My husband is a high school science teacher. He used to work in the oil field and had a great paying job, which enabled me to stay home. The oil field jobs have mostly “dried up” since January of this year. So now he works as a teacher in Oklahoma, the 47th state in the nation for teacher pay, and I have a home daycare to try and make ends meet. It’s a stretch for us every single month.
Here’s my idea for you: since Bryan and I are a pretty “average” American family (aside from the fact that we are actually married and neither of our kids were born out of wedlock – you will have to excuse that!), perhaps we can help you gauge when this current economic downturn is over.
We will look for clues in our lives that tell us things are better. For instance, when I can go to the gas station and fill my car, it will be a good sign. Right now I have to put $5 or $10 at a time to make sure we have enough for the rest of the bills. Do you have to do that in the presidential limousine? That must be so embarrassing to have to stop so often if you do! I can also let you know when the cost of groceries stops steadily rising. And when I can afford to stop cutting Wesley’s hair myself (the pictures of my first attempt are pretty amusing, though) and when I can stop saving all those little free packets of ketchup to use at our house. I can get you a complete list of “good signs” in a couple days.
Anyway, I hope we can help you out. And once we get this one taken care of, we can help you with the education system. You, Bryan, and I ought to be able to hammer that one out in no time flat.
Sincerely,
Laura Phillips
I’ve been watching the news a lot lately and have noticed that we seem to be having a bit of a “recession.” Have you seen the news coverage on it? Well, I am not sure how you plan on monitoring it and how all of you fellas in Washington plan to decide when it is officially over, but I have a little idea for you to think about.
This morning I was sitting in the living room, playing with some of my “friends” and I felt something odd. It was a little breezy. I looked down and there, looking back at me, was my underwear. A giant hole had worn through my jeans. Perhaps this is because I only have two pair and I have to wash and wear them both so often. But here is the problem: my family’s $40 a month clothing budget has already been spent! It seems that my 15 month old son didn’t get the memo about hard economic times and has had the audacity to KEEP GROWING so I’ve already spent the $40 on pants for him. This leaves me at a loss about what to do now: do I make myself a nice pair of winter cut-offs or do I just go down to one pair of jeans? What would Michelle do?
My husband and I are pretty average people. We both went to college. We have two kids and might even think about working on having the average 2.3 once this economy turns around. My husband is a high school science teacher. He used to work in the oil field and had a great paying job, which enabled me to stay home. The oil field jobs have mostly “dried up” since January of this year. So now he works as a teacher in Oklahoma, the 47th state in the nation for teacher pay, and I have a home daycare to try and make ends meet. It’s a stretch for us every single month.
Here’s my idea for you: since Bryan and I are a pretty “average” American family (aside from the fact that we are actually married and neither of our kids were born out of wedlock – you will have to excuse that!), perhaps we can help you gauge when this current economic downturn is over.
We will look for clues in our lives that tell us things are better. For instance, when I can go to the gas station and fill my car, it will be a good sign. Right now I have to put $5 or $10 at a time to make sure we have enough for the rest of the bills. Do you have to do that in the presidential limousine? That must be so embarrassing to have to stop so often if you do! I can also let you know when the cost of groceries stops steadily rising. And when I can afford to stop cutting Wesley’s hair myself (the pictures of my first attempt are pretty amusing, though) and when I can stop saving all those little free packets of ketchup to use at our house. I can get you a complete list of “good signs” in a couple days.
Anyway, I hope we can help you out. And once we get this one taken care of, we can help you with the education system. You, Bryan, and I ought to be able to hammer that one out in no time flat.
Sincerely,
Laura Phillips
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