You Might be Watching the Olympics Too Much When. . .

My three year old found some sports trading cards. He was showing them to me and asking me who they were. He held one up and announced, "This is Michael Phelps!" I did not know he knew about Michael Phelps. I did not know he was paying attention to the TV.

No more Seinfeld reruns with him in the room.

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The Most Dreaded Words

Everybody knows that Christmas is about keeping the Santa Secret and pleasing your children. Therefore, the most dreaded words are uttered on Christmas Eve. "I changed my mind, I want a [pony, scooter, bike, Red Rider BB gun]" A close second place winner is, "Can I have a New Year's Eve party?" Then, "Me, too?"

Too Sick to be Sick

I am sick. Really and truly sick. I even took a sick day and felt no guilt whatsoever that maybe I wasn't sick enough to have a "sick day." Because I am. My 5 year old was sick, too so I took him to the doctor. I refuse to acknowledge that I'm sick because I don't get sick. So with absolute glee, my little boy climbed up onto the table, stuck out his tongue and conversed with the doctor. I heard something about cloudy ears and antibiotics and then I just turned it off. It hurts when sound reaches my eardrums. We drove back home, I turned on the television, brought in the dog, and let the babysitting begin. I crawled back into bed and swam somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. The kids came home from school. I might have acknowledged them. I made chicken noodle soup from scratch. I couldn't even think. My husband caught me in a sway and asked what he could do. I grunted some terse instructi...

What We Eat

Check out the good looking crew. Just to clarify. I'm the pretty one. There's a little mountain resort in Northern Utah that is invaded every July by this group of people. We are an intimidating bunch. 5 years ago my brother brought his Nepalese bride to the United States. She lived in a country where she had no expectation to ever drive a car. She bought her food daily from the market and ate it. She taught English, although her accent was so strong when she arrived I questioned her grasp of the language. We tried to be friendly and accepting. We ended up scaring the daylights out of her. She thought we were crazy. Her words, not mine. Although I think she tolerated me a little better than the others because I had the brand new fair-haired baby that she continued to steal. She wanted a blond haired, blue eyed baby and wondered what her chances were now that she married an American. We take turns cooking for the family dinners. ...

A Musing Mother 6

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