The Lyrics to Momsense (to the William Tell Overture) (No, really!)
October 1, 2007
By popular demand, here are the lyrics to Momsense by Anita Renfroe. (She has a DVD. Order it. Love it. Live it. Really.) Ask, my wonderful readers, and you shall receive. Enjoy. Memorize. There will be a test.
Complete lyrics after the jump! Because? It takes up the entire page. That woman sings a lot of words in a short amount of time. (I guess that means we say a lot in a day.) My respect for her has increased ten-fold.
Anita, I heart you! Be my BFF? Write me back in homeroom!
[Update: The lyrics are from an official source now and are correct, but be cool and if you use them, give credit to Anita Renfroe and send people to her site. She did all the hard work with this amazing video. Not me.]
I found this online tonight and knew it was a Must Share Moment. *Note: Just get through the Potato Salad song and you will be amazedshocked horrified at the mad skillz these women have. And before anyone asks, I am TOTALLY calling the part of “Wagon Girl!” Now, if only I can get two more people to join me in taking this on the road.
Why my son has banned me from meeting his teachers
September 12, 2007
Last night we had open house for the teen. The students can go, but it is basically for the parents to see the classrooms, meet the teachers and hear what is expected of the kids that year. Since the boy was sick that day, he stayed home. In each class the teacher would ask about him. I got used to the usually response.
“He’s fine. Doing much better. He should be here tomorrow.”
Of course all of that was spoken in my very best Stepford, smiling way. (Have to make a good impression after all.)
Then we met his Theatre teacher and things went downhill. As with every other class, we walked in and introduced ourselves. I expected the same banter I had the previous 5 classes. But no.
She shakes my hand and says, “How’s your mom?”
I replied, “Fine…well…only…ummm… just.. a little bit dead.”
Complete with the hand gesture for “a little bit.” (I can’t make this stuff up.)
I looked at my husband. His mouth was agape with horror.
Flustered and horrified, I frantically slithered to the back of the classroom and sat down. My husband sat down in front of me and turned to look at me.
“What?” I hissed at him.
” ‘Fine? Just a little bit dead?‘ Are you kidding me?”
“She threw me off guard. That is not a normal question. Either you know my situation or you just don’t ask because that is not normal open house conversation. She was supposed to ask about the boy!” I snarled back at him. “What was I supposed to say?”
“Well, just about anything would have been better than that!” Then he turned around shaking his head at his poor pathetic wife.
So, I did what anyone sitting in a junior high classroom who wants to become invisible does. I sank as low in my chair as I could and began to pick at my nail polish just praying the bell would ring soon so I could bolt out of there before anyone noticed me.
I certainly hope she didn’t say anything important because I definitely didn’t hear a word of it.
My bigger mistake came when I relayed the story to the teen.
“Mom! Now she is going to think my mom is completely crazy!”
I gave him my very best ‘Well, DUH‘ look.
[Updated to add: It is okay to laugh at this! I think the teacher had me confused with another parent who probably had a mom who was sick. And trust me when I say, my Mom would think it is hysterical that I answered that way. I think it is funny. The things I say. This is why I am not allowed in public often.]
I love Nintendo. I love the people I have met who work with and/or for Nintendo.
I am thinking of getting a tattoo on my lower back that can peek out of my low rise jeans that says, “I heart Nintendo” for all the world to see. Except that I don’t wear low rise jeans. And tattoos hurt. But I totally would endure the pain for them. Because? I heart Nintendo and my friends associated with them who love me enough to help me help them let me love Nintendo.
Maybe I can write it in Sanskrit (you know, to be different) that says “I heart Nintendo.” Anyone know Sanskrit?
Is there a Chinese symbol like peace, and hope and love for “Nintendo” that is in existence? Because? That is the most beautifully written language ever. I could totally get that! (Anyone know Chinese tattoo art?)
Six ways to make your teen want to eat off his own face
August 14, 2007
As the days of summer dwindle down to a close, we have been filling them with “fun” and “exciting” things to do to make up for the “nothingness” and “boring” things that filled our (longer than normal for us) summer. Many of which make my teen roll his eyes to such an extreme they truly might stick that way. A few of which include the following.
1. Insisting on naming a GPS after a 70 year-old hooker. And then never stopping with the jokes when we are in the car listening to her tell us where to go. (More than once, she, too, was told where to go when her directions are not so accurate. I have no sense of direction, Matilda! You must be accurate with these things!)
2. Singing off key, off pitch and way out of control with the karaoke feature of Boogie. While gyrating around the room and singing my very best (also known as most horrific) rendition of “You’re the One That I Want” from Grease. He actually said that eating his own face would be less painful. (But yet he stayed and watched. Probably in horror. But he stayed.)
3. Getting my funky on while driving. No, I amend that to getting my funky on while driving and listening to Radio Disney while Hannah Montana was singing. ( “Moooooooom! You are not in an invisible car. People can see you!” To which I replied, “I don’t know them. I don’t care!” Then proceeding to get my funky on. With more funk.)
4. Taking all three kids to see the Simpsons Movie and eagerly proclaiming, “I want to see that!” and then “Ohhhh, I really want to see that one!” to just about every movie preview that was shown. THEN I had the nerve to laugh at the funny parts of the movie. OUT. LOUD. People heard me! So rude of me. I know. Oh, and then singing the Spider Pig song All. Day. Long.
5. Watching a scene in Wild Hogs and then picking up and continually using the phrase, “Because sometimes you just have to slap the bull!” and taking a quick shot at his arm. He was not amused. I laughed until I snorted. More than once. (That one will last a while.)
6. Planning with much glee and probably a lit bit too enthusiastically a High School Musical II viewing party. With singing. And dancing. And much anticipation. (He is horrified. Which, as you know, makes it all the more fun.)
So, see, I am being productive as the summer winds down. I am making my son long to be in school to avoid the humiliation that is his MOM. (Little is he aware that I will be volunteering in the school and will be bringing my fun brand of crazy there, too!)
I had this sent to me by a friend of mine (who might not want to be named but she knows who she is) and thought it was awesome enough to share with you. I know for sure I have probably said most if not all of these things. I know for sure I heard these things! What about you? Sound familiar?
Enjoy!
“Everything a mom says in 24 hours condensed to 2 minutes and 55 seconds and sung to the William Tell Overture. Every mom does this same “song - just probably not quite this fast.”
Edited to add for those of you who have asked: The singer is Anita Renfroe. Amazing woman. The lyrics to this are here.
Webcrash 2007–The night the entire Internet crashed worldwide
July 18, 2007
The whole Internet crashing? At the same time? Worldwide? Oh, the horrors! We must immediately elect a Secretary Of Internet Safety and Security (and Backup!)
And be sure to read the ticker across the bottom. Some very informative information can be found in the tickers.
Best line (besides “I feel like ctl-alt-del myself!”) would have to be with press secretary Tony Snow admitting to no Internet back mode. “…we deeply regret that a back up of the Internet does not exist at this time.” but “…we had always meant to get around to making one…”
Oh sure, they laugh about it now, but who is going to be laughing when Al Gore is too busy with Global Warming to fix the blasted thing if it does ever crash?!
Ahhh, summertime. That time when you should allow your kids to rest, yet enrich their minds. OR if you live with me, a time to stay up late, eat junk food and play games when we are not out in the sun and fun. (Seeing as there has been very little sun, we are doing a lot more inside “fun” here.) And what is the power game of choice? Wii! (And, no, I do not work for them, am not being paid by them and am gaining nothing by telling you how much I enjoy the Wii we have. Just in case someone decides they want to get all up in my grill about it. I’m just saying, I like it. Mikey likey!)
Here is the Queen of Our Wii holding court.
I have to admit, there are times I kick the kids off to play myself. I have fun with the Wii Sports and the Wii Play. In fact, here are some pictures of the whole family playing at the beach when it was either raining or everyone was too sunburned to go back out into the blazing Florida sun. Do you Wii? What is your favorite game?
I am just going to link to the WiiFit in action. I TRIED to embed it, but it keeps screwing up my template. Hello? WordPress? Not making me happy. Anyway, here is the link: Wii Fit at E3.
I think I am in love with a new game coming out soon. I learned about it from E3 and found this video of it from the conference at Gametrailers. I am so going to get my hands on this one: Wii Fit. Check out that yoga, baby. Now that will be worth all of the YouTube payback videos that my sons post of me. Because trust me when I say both of my boys will love getting even that way. Take a look for yourself and tell me what you think. I think it is going to be a lot of Fit Fun!
I am not a great sleeper. No. I must amend that. I am not a great nighttime sleeper. I am either working and get so into it that I don’t realize it is 3:47am and I need to be in bed. Or I start playing WoW because my children (aka: little gamer pushers) begged me to do one last quest with them. As I see the sun rise, I ground them all for making me stay up all night. Because, you know, it is all their fault. I am just the tired parent.
Then there are those nights that I try to go to bed like a person not imitating a vampire and read or do something soothing. I was almost there on Monday night. Sleepy. Listening to my soothing, calm sounds on my Zune. I am just about to start making out with Mr. Sandman. Then, without warning Ozzy Osbourne sceams, “ALL ABOARD!” (The beginning of the song Crazy Train for those of you not in the know.) After soiling myself, throwing the demon possessed Zune across the room, hitting the floor to crawl under my bed, and then checking to make sure my heart was in fact still embedded in my chest, I brushed myself off and stared angrily at my bed. Forget sleepy and soothing. Even Mr. Sandman ditched my make-out attempts. I was officially awake.
I wandered into my family room where (of course) my teen was still awake. I mumbled something along the lines of, “What are you still doing awake?” but I think it came out more like, “Crazy Train. Tired. No making out with Mr. Sandman. Tired, so tired.” I attempted to read for a while then went back to bed.
The next day the teen asked me if everything was okay.
“Of course. Why?”
“You seem tired. Really tired. A lot lately.”
“A little. I wouldn’t say a lot. Why do you say there is a lot of tired? That makes it sound bad or extreme. I am fine. Why are you so all up in my grill? I need more coffee. Why are you accusing me of being so tired?”
“I found your cell phone in the refrigerator this morning.”
“What? That? The milk was expecting a call.”
Perhaps I need to look into some better bedtime and sleep routines. I cannot afford for the milk to keep up this cell phone affair.
When grocery shopping makes your teen need therapy
June 29, 2007
There are just SO many ways to torment a teenager when you take him to the grocery store. After a long day of being cooped up inside as it rained the rain of a thousand ark builders dreams, I realized that the kids had begun to gnaw on the furniture for sustenance and I should probably go buy some food. The teen actually offered to go with me. In my defense I had been bored and doing work things all day. I was in need of some…levity.
It all started when we went in the wrong doors. I mean, I cannot shop if I go in the wrong side of the store. There is an order to these things, people. Of course, this brought on the eye roll of all eye rolls from the teen.
“You seriously cannot start on this side of the store?”
“No! Do you wipe yourself BEFORE you go to the bathroom? I think not! You do things in order. “
I think he saw trouble coming then but chose to push on with me.
Once we reached the donut section (mmmmmmm donuts) he asked if he could have one. Of course I responded as any good, mature and well balance mother would:
“Ohhhh! I want one! I want one! Can I have a donut? I want chocolate. No, cream filled. No. No. I want glazed. No. I think I do want cream filled. Can I? Can I?” All the while clapping in glee.
That got me a “Motherrrrrr” (But he did grin/hide-a-laugh over it.)
Then we got to the area that houses the crunchy goodness of the chips. I stood and looked. And looked.
“What the hell? Where are the X-13D’s? I wanted to buy more X-13D’s and they don’t have any. Nacho cheese is so yesterday. This is so unfair!” *foot stomp*
“Mom, just get the Jalapeño Chips. They have kick.”
“I hate those. You are just trying to kill me. Meanie. I liked the whole mystery behind the X-13D chips. They intrigued me. No CHIPS.”
About this point Brandon wonders whether making a run for it is wise or not. Somehow he decides against it. (Silly boy.)
At the cereal aisle we are looking at the actually healthy stuff when I see that Fruit Loops has a cool little flash light thingie in it. I grab the box and shout, “DIBS! I get the toy! Mine!” At that point he looks as if he wants to self combust to get out of this situation.
“Mom. Seriously. This is not how we act in the store.” Of course that sets me off in a whole new fit of giggles.
“You’re just jealous I get the flashlight,” I mock.
He makes it with me all the way to the frozen foods when I challenged him to a race down the aisle to find the best frozen junk to pass off for dinner and the loser has to cook it when he asks for the keys to the van. In fact, he actually goes to grab them out of my pocket.
“No he didn’t you”, you say. Oh yes he did!
So I grabbed the keys and shoved them into my bra. Safe territory.
This was pretty much how the rest of the grocery store trip went along. He began to taunt me.
“I’m going to eat your donut. I’m going to eat your donut.”
By the time we got to the van he was waving my donut at me. Oh, no. You don’t tease about chocolate anything with me.
Then these words rang out and echoed across the parking lot: “DUDE. DUDE. DON’T YOU DARE EAT MY FRIGGIN’ DONUT!”
I think we may shop at another store for a week or two. Just in case. But truth be told, I doubt my teen will offer to go with me again for quite a while.
On the bright side, the other grocery store has a Starbucks in it! Oh, yeah, baby. Hop me up on caffeine FIRST and then let me loose. Great plans that can go terribly awry.
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