still refusing to be a soccer mom..

What the heck is that supposed to mean anyway?... 'soccer mom'. Whatever. Cause we can be defined by the sport our kid plays or by the fact that we have to drive them somewhere in the afternoon..

I didn't even want to admit that my boys were playing soccer last fall for fear of being dubbed a...

'SOCCER MOM'

Huh? wha? who said that?? No, I'm not. My kids don't even play soccer.. They just run around on a field chasing some kids who are kicking a ball... Seriously though, they didn't really get to play soccer. The homeschool co-op takes 'making it fun' a little too far. Where's the challenge? where's the personal growth? where's all those life skills they learn from team sports?? Yeah, not so much.

That's ok, we put them in wrestling with the school district after that.. and found out that they would get their butt kicked if they ever picked a fight with anyone bigger or slightly stronger than them... Still ok though.. we also found out that Princess has a head start on it with a wicked wrestling stance.. by the time she's four, she'll be able to take any of her brothers down, we're quite sure of it. Good thing, too.. since apparently her brothers won't be able to protect her - unless you count 'distracting the attacker' as defending..

This year, I asked the kids what they wanted to do. Yes, you guessed it.. soccer and wrestling are Dad's favorites. But Monkey wants to be just like Dad, so he would have requested soccer anyway.. and Captain would have just followed along. I've always thought that Monkey would enjoy gymnastics. I even looked into enrolling him (and his brothers) a couple times while we were living in CA. We just never had the time or the money to do it - and the other 2 boys would have just been 'along for the ride' for the sake of simplifying schedules. Yeah, it wasn't big ears or cro-magnon like facial structure that earned him the nick-name Monkey, but rather the fact that he was climbing on top of the dining room table (before he could even crawl on all fours) at 9 months old.

Recently, some friends of ours enrolled their kids (you know.. our friends' kids are our kids' friends) in gymnastics. . Monkey thought that was 'rad'. So, pair that with the fact that he'd caught a glimpse of the Olympic gymnastics and it kind of sealed the deal for him.

Me: What do you want to do this fall?
M: Gynnastits.

So we had a talk about the fact that it costs money for him to do that and that if it's 'hard' that doesn't mean he can stop going (became an issue with wrestling.. though more with his older brother than him). He's got heart.. and a good dose of perseverance, so I think he's got a good chance. And, yes, he said he still wants to wrestle this year.. so we're quietly hoping that the gymnastics will give him more of an 'edge'.. helping improve his strength, flexibility, and body control. Maybe he'll do more than flop like a fish this year. Then again, maybe he won't.

Me: You sure about that?
M: Yup.
Me: You know.. it's kind of hard. You going to be ok with that?
M: Yup.
Me: and if it gets hard?
M: I'll keep doing it.
Me: ..because?
M: ..if I don't Daddy will cut my legs off and I'll have to walk around on little stumps and everyone will call me stumpy.
Me: um... no.

And Booger is 4 so...

Me: What do you want to do?
B: Gynnastits.
Me: ok.. and if it gets hard?
B: I keep doin it.
Me: ..because??
B: I don wanna be stumpee??

Um.. yeah. Anyway, so my pirate-obsessed Captain would be off sailing the 7 seas if he could, pillaging and plundering all the way.. but since that's not an option..

Me: What activity do you want to do this fall?
C: I want to dance.

Very much like me and my father, my oldest has a love for all things dramatic. He loves to sing, dance, and act. He spends lots of time choreographing his favorite songs and has even been known to engage his siblings in his conquests and direct them. (Honestly, I think directing is what he's best at..) Sadly, he kind of lacks a natural propensity for rhythm and coordination.. but he's got heart (not so big on the perseverance part though).

Me: Really? and if you think it's hard?
C: I'll keep doing it.
Me: Why?
C: Because I want to get good at it, and it's fun. I want to show my teacher my moves and..
Me: You realize that if you go to dance class, they'll want to teach you, not watch you, right?
C: Oh.. Ok. Can I do the Scottish dancing?
Me: You mean Irish dancing?
C: What's that?

This is not my child. Son, in this house, it's Irish dancing. Get it right. You're Irish Mexican. Not Scottish Mexican. Oy. So Highland Dance it is (turns out they do Scottish and Irish dances in the class I found.. so he's off the hook this time). Thank God for grandparents who are supportive of personal enrichment (I didn't tell grandpa that he called it 'Scottish' dancing.. that would be an ever so grievous mistake..), who will help lighten the load by giving Captain some dance lessons for his upcoming birthday.

So, I will officially be carting my kids around town in my mini-van. And, if you call me a 'soccer mom' I'll sick my 2yo on you. Trust me, you do not want that!

voulez-vous danser avec moi??

So I'm bored..

Last night, as I'm occasionally wont to do, I was sitting around reviewing my French vocabulary in my mind. I know, I'm a geek. Said vocabulary is constantly shrinking and I know that if I don't at least mentally review it now and then, it will disappear completely.

I love foreign languages.

I love them so much that I daily annoy the crap out of my kids by talking to them in random languages and going long periods of time donning weird accents.

"Mommyyyy... Pleeeease talk normal now!!"

They're no fun.

So whenever I start thinking en Francais, I think of Ace of Base. I can't help it. Perhaps it's because I loved Ace of Base and The Sign was still fairly new when I took my first year of French? Who knows.. So, it took some searching.. but I managed to find this. Hilarious.

Enjoy.




I also couldn't resist adding The Sign to my Rhapsody.. Now I can, once again, dance around my living room like a fool and annoy my children even more!! Muahahahahaa!!

The Amazing Wiz-Kitty

J rolled out of bed at some horrible unmentionable hour this morning and while contemplating how to end world hunger and stop global warming he stumbled across the hall to the bathroom.. only tripping on 235 toys along the way. Yes, my husband is so brilliantly awesome that his first thoughts in the morning revolve around how he'll spend the day saving the world.. hey, it makes up for the fact that by some time in early afternoon (usually after his work out..) they turn to plots of world domination.

So he groggily steps up to the piss-pot for his morning tinkle, carefully takes aim in his early morning visual haze, and lets loose.. seconds later..

*thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-thump.... splash*

Stunned, he watches as BabyCat comes stampeding into the bathroom and launches himself straight between J's legs, through the stream of urine, and into the toilet.. while J is still going. He quickly realizes that said kitten can not get himself out of the toilet (should have just flushed him.. darn, no more tiny claws scaling my leg!). Still confused by the whole incident, J scoops the kitten out of the toilet and turns on the shower. No, BabyCat does not enjoy cold showers. Oops. J turns the hot water on so as to avoid a case of feline hypothermia and finishes rinsing him off. He then spent a good portion of his morning rubbing him with a towel to get him dry and warm again, wondering what on earth this tiny creature found so appealing about him taking an early morning wiz.. Was it the splashing sound? The manly smell of J's urine - perhaps it awoke the inner lion's desire to dominate? Does he prefer toilets to litter pans and really needed to go (oh, how I wish)? Or did he just really want to have an early morning swim? We may never know..