Prayer

Parent Bedtime Prayer

Now I lay her down to sleep,
I pray she will not make a peep,
But close her eyes and rest her head,
And, just this once, remain in bed.

But if, instead, she stays awake,
I pray thee, Lord, my head not ache;
And when I hear a pitter-patter,
Lord, help me not to be mad at her.

Amen


~ borrowed from a friends scrapbook

Old School

Back to old school fun for Lyric Tuesday -- House of Pain's "Jump Around". Obviously these lyrics aren't grand or meaningful, but I just love the fact that everyone who hears this song suddenly begins to wiggle in their seat and can barely stop themselves from jumping around.



Jump Around, by House of Pain

Pack it up, pack it in
Let me begin
I came to win
Battle me thats a sin
I wont tear the sack up
Punk youd better back up
Try and play the role and the whole crew will act up
Get up, stand up, come on!
Come on, throw your hands up
If you've got the feeling jump across the ceiling
Muggs is a funk fest, someones talking junk
Yo, Ill bust em in the eye
And then Ill take the punks home
Feel it, funk it
Amps in the trunk
And I got more rhymes than theres cops that are dunking Donuts shop
Sure nuff I got props from the kids on the hill
Plus my mom and my pops

Chorus

I came to get down (2x)
So get out your seats and jump around
Jump around (3x)
Jump up jump up and get down.
Jump (18x)

I'll serve your ass like john macenroe
If your girl steps up, Im smacking the hoe
Word to your moms I came to drop bombs
I got more rhymes than the bibles got psalms
And just like the prodigal son Ive returned
Anyone stepping to me youll get burned
Cause I got lyrics and you aint got none
So if you come to battle bring a shotgun
But if you do youre a fool, cause I duel to the death
Try and step to me youll take your last breath
I gots the skill, come get your fill
Cause when I shoot ta give, I shoot to kill

Chorus

Im the cream of the crop, I rise to the top
I never eat a pig cause a pig is a cop
Or better yet a terminator
Like arnold schwarzenegger
Trying to play me out like as if my name was sega
But I aint going out like no punk bitch
Get used to one style and you know I might switch
It up up and around, then buck buck you down
Put out your head then you wake up in the dawn of the dead
Im coming to get ya, coming to get ya
Spitting out lyrics homie Ill wet ya

Chorus

Jump (32x)

Yo, this is dedicated
To joe, da flava, dakota
Grag yo bozac, punk

Branches of the Tree

On Labor Day, we had a big family picnic / BBQ at my cousin Rachel's because my Uncle Scott & Aunt Marie were in town visiting from Florida. Although not all of our family could make it (my Auntie Mary Jo & Uncle Keith and kids were missing, as well as my Auntie Barb & Uncle Bill and my sisters, Molly, Katie & Hubby Jim. I am sure I am forgetting others too). Below are several shots of our family.

Three of the five sibilings -- Auntie Lynda, Uncle Scott, and my Mommy

My Aunts, Uncles & spouses with my generation of cousins

My generation of cousins, some spouses and our children

All of the cousins children (on my side of the family).

Can you believe that only FIVE cousins made this many children?! Let's see if I can do the math right. I believe that between the five of us we have SEVENTEEN children (one of my daughters is not pictured).

Sleep Deprived

For the record, you know that you are really tired and sleep-deprived when you go to the bathroom mid-morning and realize, you put your underwear on INSIDE OUT that morning, while you were cross eyed and stumbled about trying to pretend to be coherent.

Nice. Real nice!

Potential Weapons

Hubby was recently given an award to celebrate his five-year anniversary with his employer. It's a fabulously thoughtful gesture for his employer to bestow this crystal thing on him in the middle of a special all-staff meeting. However, as you will notice -- the srystal thing is potentially dangerous to small children. I see the potential for the wee ones to fall and impale themselves on it.

Or, of course, there is alwyas the possibility of being blinded by it's shiny appearance.

Oh! Wait!

That would never happen because it would be full of tiny, dirty fingerprints in our house.

Needless to say, Husband chose to keep the award at work.

You Don't Say

Sometimes children say the funniest or most innocently profound things. Or often, in my case, my children say the most inappropriate things, which in hind sight can be amusing -- or not. For example...
Out of the blue, my two year old walked up to me, big his pudgy little hands on either side of my cheeks and said, "I was a baby in your tummy. When I was really big, I fell out."

* * * * *

While at one of my nine-year old daughter's baseball games, my sister offered to take my three-year old daughter, Little Boo, to the park rec building to go to the bathroom. When they entered the bathroom, Boo ran ahead and locked Auntie out of the bathroom stall. Boo was yelling, "Me do it myself! I can do it." Auntie waited outside the bathroom stall and tried to casually peer through the door crack.

A few seconds later Auntie heard Boo yell, "Awwww! NUTS! It's in my underwear."

Auntie said, "It's okay. Just come out here."

Boo started yelping, "Come in! Come in! Peas help."

Auntie said, "Honey, I can't. You locked it."

Boo started wailing louder. "Yes, you can come in. Just push it open. I said it's okay. Peas come in. Just push it open NOW!" It took Auntie a while to convince Boo that she couldn't bust down the stall door and that Boo actually had to get off the toilet to unlock the door for her.

* * * * *

A friend's five-year old son recently had the following conversation with his mom:

E went through a phase when he was younger where he would ask me questions about how the baby gets in “there” on almost a daily basis. I started out very vague (but no lies) and finally got exhausted with all the questions so I gave him the “correct” terms, i.e. egg & sperm, and he seemed satisfied then that I was giving him the whole story. Not sure why he started asking again but good God!

The other night, after reading our nightly bedtime story at the cabin, E asked me, “How does the egg & that other thing make a baby?” (He had seen his new cousin 5 week old baby Isabel that day.)

I said, “You mean the sperm?”

He said, “Yes, that thing.”

I said, “Well, you know how our dog Willie digs down into the sand on the beach when it is hot out so he can lie down in the cool sand? No one taught him how to do that. He just knew how."

Explanation sounds good so far so I continued and said, "The sperm & the egg, when they get together, just know how to make a baby. They have the right tools to make the baby, not like hammers though.”

E says, “Oh. I didn’t think they have hammers; I thought they had wrenches.”

* * * * *

Driving along in the car with my 2-year old son, 4-year old daughter and 9-year old daughter. The children are all screaming and fighting and hissing and spitting and basically attempting to annihilate each other in whatever way is humanly possible while strapped into the proper car seats.

The shrieking banshee, formerly known as my 4-year old daughter, keeps screaming, "Where are we going? Are we there yet?"

I sigh LOUDLY. I have already told her twelve bajillion times in the past 30 seconds where we are going.

Thankfully my 2-year old son jumps in and yells at the top of his healthy lungs: "We're going crazy and Mommy says I AM DRIVING!!!"

Alrighty then. I guess the little parrot must have heard that one too many times...

Dirt

Maybe you've always wanted to create some artwork for your living space, but never had the talent. Maybe you like to imagine you are a treasure hunter, discovering clues along the way like your favorite childhood movie, The Goonies. Or, maybe you just like getting dirty. Well I have good news. You can do all of these things with Roland Tiangco's new poster.

Check out this and other rockin' designs on Fubiz.

http://smolderingeyes.blogspot.com/2009/09/get-your-hands-dirty.html