Honky song

lost in translation
must pay better attention
corrupting my kids

I was sitting on the sofa, using my Tide pen to go to town on a mysterious brown splotch that had just appeared on my white shirt, when I heard, "It’s a penguin honky song!" in a high pitched voice.

"Huh?" I thought, as I continued to scribble and scrub away at the spot, not looking up.

"A honk, honk honky song!"

Finally, I looked up. "What are you watching?" I asked the wee one, pretending that it wasn’t actually my job to know these things.

"It’s Diego," he said happily. Then, singing along, "It’s a honk, honk honky song!"

"Honk-ing," I said. "I think it’s a honk-ing song."

But it sure sounded like a penguin honky song.

That Diego. He’s a troublemaker.

the early bird catches…. an empty wallet?

back-to-school shopping
all we need is wheelbarrow
and lottery win

Y’all. Holy shit. We just got back from buying the wee one’s school supplies for Kindergarten. School starts 8/27 so we’re a little early, but I ordinarily love school supply shopping and we were itching to get all the stuff.

I seriously think we just bought supplies for half the class. Think I’m exaggerating? Here’s the list, straight from the school’s website:


(all supplies preferably NOT
Roseart brand)
1 – plastic supply box
1 – clipboard (letter size)
3 – composition books (No spirals)
2 – packages #2 pencils (sharpened)
4 – boxes 16 count crayons (basic colors only-NO Roseart)
4 – 8 oz. bottles Elmer’s white school glue (NOT COLORED)
1 – backpack (large enough to hold a 1" binder)
1 – box 200 count tissue
1 – pkg. pink erasers (no pencil toppers)
1 – pair child Fisker
brand scissors (no plastic scissors)
2 – boxes Crayola basic color markers
1 – package 6 count dry erase EXPO markers (medium point)
3 – containers of liquid soap
2 – packages seasonal/fun
2 – red pocket folders (no brads)
1 – Kindergarten rest mat and towel
1 – yellow highlighter

Girls only:

1 –
package plain paper plates
1 – box Ziploc
plastic bags (gallon or jumbo size)

1 – box Ziploc bags (quart or
snack size)
1 – package plain paper lunch bags
(white, if possible)
1 – box wipes

That is a LOT of stuff. Especially when you’re at Target and you grab a different school’s list to see what those kids need, and those kids have 1/4 of the stuff to bring. Not only that, but this list seems designed to inflict irritation.

Clipboard? That’s going to take a special trip to an office supply store, because Target doesn’t have them.

A set of 6 dry erase markers? There are only sets of 4. Or 10. Or 12.

16 count crayons? $2.49. 24 count crayons? .20.

8oz glue? $1.57. 4oz glue? .15.

1 box of 200ct Kleenexes? I could only find boxes of 120ct or 180ct.

JEEZ. It was very vexing trying to buy these supplies, because nothing matched the list. And the things that did match the list were a lot more expensive than the things that were close, but not exactly right. Sigh.

So I’m going to be that mom. The one who supplies her kid with the right amount of stuff, but in various and sundry quantities.

I understand that teachers have specific reasons they ask for the supplies they do. And probably much of those reasons hinge on knowing that the school can’t afford to provide a lot of the things we take for granted – like crayons. I know a lot of times teachers end up spending a lot of their own money on things they shouldn’t have to. And that’s probably why we’re being asked to provide so. much. stuff.

And yet, I wish the things on the list weren’t such a pain in the ass. White lunch bags? The hell? I know they make better puppets, but no one sells them. Or if they do, they’re like 1,000 times more expensive.

Ah well. I grouse and complain and admit to being a little prickly about my kid having to bring four times more shit to school than most of the other kids in the district, but it was still fun to go get everything. I still remember the fat Snoopy pencils I had rattling around in my backpack on my very first day of school. And so we’ll pile all of this crap into a wheelbarrow for the first day and the wee one will show up grinning and scared and excited in shiny new clothes, with a sparkling new backpack, emanating that smell of newly sharpened pencils.

I can’t believe he’s starting school in just less than a month.

That should give me just enough time to track down the ever elusive clipboard.

The big 0-5

has it been five years?
sweet baby now my sweet boy
except for his feet

The wee one is 5 today! Technically, he’s not 5 until just after 7pm, but I’ll spot him the few extra hours. I know it’s cliche, but MAN I can’t believe how fast time has gone by. I remember when he was born, looking down at him and thinking, "you’ll be in kindergarten before I know it, won’t you?" and sure enough, here we are.

But first we have a summer of Aqua Raiders Legos and Playmobil pirate ships and swimming in the community pool and time outs for not listening and so much more.

How did he get so big?

Happy birthday, wee one!


wee one-a-palooza

just so many things
perfect storm of craziness
will he recover?

Preschool graduation? Check.

Dance recital? Check.

Birthday party? On target for tomorrow.

Airplane ride to visit grandparents? Coming up in three days.

Could any more exciting things happen to an almost five-year-old in such a short period of time? No WONDER he’s been a beast the past two days. A happy, spoiled, super cute beast.

I’d be living more in the moment right now if I hadn’t spent the last four days coughing so hard I’m pretty sure I made one of my ovaries explode. Ouch. Two trips to urgent care have brought no relief and a referral for an ultrasound that I can’t get until Monday. In the meantime I will continue to feel like my girly organs are being ripped out of my body every time I cough. And I will bake a birthday cake. And pack for our trip. And try not to pass out. Did I say ouch? Ouch.

I have my fangs in you, baby

why we don’t talk religion
or word origins

The other day, while I was driving the wee one home from school, he asked me what fangs are. Here’s how the conversation rapidly went down hill…

[me, beginning the conversation genially] "Fangs? You mean like teeth?"

[the wee one, frustration setting in early due to what I call Tired Post School Temper Trouble or TPSTT] "No, FANGS, mommy. The things you have IN people."

[me, trying to stay genial] "Like ‘sink your fangs into’ something? Sometimes people say that when they mean to take a bite out of something."

[the wee one, bubbling over with TPSTT] "NO, MOMMY! Like we learned at school! Fangs. FANGS!"

[me, getting irritated that he’s irritated] "OK. You shouting it at at me over and over? That doesn’t make me understand you any easier, alright?

[the wee one, sighing dramatically] "I’m just talking about fangs. The kind of fangs that purple stands for."

[me] ????

[he continues, as if talking to the most pitiful, dumb creature on the planet] "At school, Mrs. Linda says that purple stands for fangs. And that we have fangs in God."

[me, ding ding ding!] "You mean faith? We have faith in God?"

[the wee one, thrilled I finally understand him, gets excited] "So we’re like vampires for God?"

[me, giving up] "Yes. We’re like vampires for God."

This is what I get for sending him to a quasi-religious preschool.

Little did we know…

telling future, past
it all seems kinds creepy
and expensive too

The other day, I was totally stressed with the move and the wee one and I were tooling around town, running errands, and I just had to stop the car and take a few deep breaths. Traffic was terrible, the wee one wouldn’t hush and I thought I was going to have a panic attack or something.

So, I stopped the car. After my deep breaths, I noticed we were in the parking lot of this psychic I’ve been driving past for years. I thought, what the hell, let’s go inside. Why not? The sign says walk-ins welcome.

The wee one and I walked in and instead of the velvety, musty, incense-filled movie set I was expecting, we were met with the grime, dirty baseboards and faintly tinged beer smell that I should have expected. At this point we should have just walked out, but we had been noticed by the uber-skinny, giant-eyed lady sitting in a ratty barca lounger, watching Montel on a staticky old TV.

She asked if we wanted our palms read or a tarot reading or what. I wanted to say we were just there to use the phone, but something compelled me to say "palms" and so we sat at a round table, not unlike the kitchen table I saw at a garage sale a few weeks ago and thought, "I bet that table weighs a thousand pounds."

The wee one and I each took a chair – at this point he was chattering on and on about Star Wars and light sabers and ninjas and something called a "power kick" and he barely noticed when the lady reached out and grabbed his hand.

Her brow wrinkled, her eyes closed, and she traced her fingers all around his palm as he giggled and squirmed and tried to pull away. She held on fast, though, and after a few moments she said, "This young man will always enjoy peanut butter."


"You will have to watch his consumption of bacon."

I laughed. "He’s only eaten bacon once and that was last night. He liked it, but I doubt he’ll eat it again. He doesn’t eat a lot of different fooo—"

She held out her other hand to motion for me to shut up. "He likes music." she said abruptly.

And she was right. He’s always loved music. From the time he was in the womb, to now when he hums the Indiana Jones soundtrack to lull himself to sleep. But all kids like peanut butter and music, right? Was I getting my money’s worth here?

Then she asked a weird question.

"Has he ever mentioned Priscilla?"

I was ready to balk but then I remembered that he had actually mentioned a Priscilla a few times. When he was tiny and just learning to talk he talked about how he "wuved pwisilla" and I never really knew what he was talking about. I always thought it was a sesame street thing. I had forgotten about this until our "psychic" mentioned it. In fact, just the other night he was sleeping and yelled something about "Priscilla and the baby" but I didn’t think much of it.

"Yes," I said, feeling just the beginnings of a hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck zing.

She continued to feel his palm and study his face. I wanted to get us out of there. I’d only gone in and agreed to this whole thing because I thought I would be the one having a reading. I didn’t want to freak out the wee one. He seemed to be having a blast, though.

She mumbled something about Memphis and the sun and a dead twin and that’s when I stood up. "No dead twins here," I said quickly as I grabbed the wee one and we hustled towards the door.

"I would suggest a past life regression!" she shouted after us as we hurried out. When we reached the doorway, the wee one stopped and turned towards her.

"You make me happy." he said strangely. "You make my dreams clear." She smiled and I wigged. I grabbed his arm to drag him out the door.

"You know now that Vegas was a bad idea!" she shouted after us.

"I’ve never been to Vegas!" I shouted back.

"Say no to drugs!" the wee one yelled back as I wrestled him into his booster seat.

"Good-bye, Elvis," the lady said from the doorway just loud enough for only me to hear her.

Once we were in the car and spinning out of the gravel parking lot the wee one asked if we could listen to the "little less conversation" song.


And also completely untrue. Happy April Fools Day!