What does C-L-U-E-L-E-S-S spell?

When I lived in Texas one of my friends had 2 little boys and lived nearby. Every now and then I'd see her pulling her older son away from older kids and would say she didn't want him hanging out with them. They weren't bad kids, and she knew they weren't---she just didn't want her 7 year old hanging out with 11 year old kids.

I didn't think much of it, and definitely didn't think I would have the same problem, almost 10x's worse.

Bo's favorite people are all older than him. Today he sighed dreamily over his pancakes and said, "I wish I was Joe." When I asked him why, his only real answer was---because he is 7.

I've tried different approaches to keep him away from older kids (I'm talking 9, 10, 11---even 12) but nothing has been effective. The Pokemon craze unites all kinds and I'm determined to ride this annoying and persistent Pokemon train until it's done. Last night J was daydreaming of a Pokemon-less existence and said, "Hey I know! Let's just ban Pokemon cards altogether!" For a moment I felt free again, but I had to remind J that we can't just go around making up rules because things are annoying to us. And since we don't have any moral opposition to the cards, we just have to let it go.

J objected. He says that he is morally opposed to being annoyed.

But this isn't another Pokemon post.

One of the issues my friend had with her son being around older kids, is the exposure to things over his head. I have that issue. Big time.

Yesterday Bo referred to his "nuts" and had NO idea what he was saying. Of course---when I told him what he was saying, that made it 10 times funnier for him.

Here's today's problem: (With a little background) Often when we are driving around Bo will spell out the names of various Pokemon cards for pronunciation. I have gotten very used to hearing, "What does T-a-n-g-e-l-a spell mom?" A lot.

Also, a few weeks ago Bo was waving his middle finger around and someone told him that meant something bad. One of those things that bugs me about him hanging out with older kids. So, later that night he asked me what it meant. I would not tell him the word, but I did tell him that it meant something very rude and it's probably best that he not do it. You know, flip people off and whatnot.

He didn't seem too concerned to not know the word. I was hesitant to have him hear it, even in a teaching setting, because my children have been on a year long kick of yelling out every "bad word" they can think of whenever they feel like being obnoxious. "Fohwt" is as bad as it's ever gotten around here.

SO.

Just now, I was sitting at the computer getting all my stuff together to pay bills. As I'm gearing up for the magic of paying bills, my brain registers Bo's voice. He's again spelling something. I absentmindedly say, "sound it out first, then I will help you" and as I say that, I realize it's not a Pokemon day, so I turn around to bust him and just in time, get to see my sweet little five year old with his tiny little middle finger struggling to stay up by itself amidst those other little fingers that want to stand up too and just in time to hear him say, "Fuhhhhh....."

Yes, he sounded it out just right.

And then noted, "Hmmm, the 'c' must be silent because I only made one 'kuh' sound and there's two 'kuh' letters in f____."

I told him that he'd sounded it out right and asked him where he'd learned how to spell it. It was an older boy. He told him this older (good kid) was allowed to say every bad word except that one. Uhhhhhhhhhh. Yeah.

I told him that it was a word he could never say, it's the worst word you can possibly say and that saying a word like that at school would get him kicked out of school. That's how he knows it's serious. I use the threat of expulsion on my 5 year old who hasn't even started kindergarten. I am that good at parenting.

I feel like the dropping of the f bomb is taken care of.

But I still have the dilemma of Bo always hanging out with older kids. One of the kids is 12 and when he knocks on my door and asks to play with a five year old, I just can't help but feel sorry for him. I don't want to be yet another person who rejects these kids, and clearly some of them are not well-accepted by their peers---or their parents for that matter.

I have tried just letting them in my home so I can supervise them---but that's not easy for me. I don't really have time to hang out with a bunch of kids in the basement while they obsess over critters with names most of them can't even pronounce. Not to mention the mental stamina for that kind of torture.

And now I'm going to publish and now the world will know what a vulgar people we are here in Iowa.

Chi-town

***EDITED TO ADD ONE PICTURE THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CHICAGO***

If I'm being honest here, which I try to do for the most part on this blog, I'll have to admit openly that I did not take my camera.

I knew that out of the 8 of us that went, Avee and I would be the only two that didn't have a camera. And if there's one thing I know how to do---it's mooch. And I'll admit this too: I mooched photos. I said, "Oh here, take a shot of this" the whole time. And pretty much, every picture I wanted taken was taken. But now I have to actively work at getting them from everyone, onto my computer. There's really only one that I really want to show you.

I had a great time. My first day there after getting overwhelmed by traffic and finding places and a long check-in and then driving the car far away to park for less than $50 a day---I was sure that this touristy, sight-seeing business was not my scene.

But I had a great time with my family and friend. I took only Avee with me. I was pretty concerned about leaving Danyo because he and I--well, we're sort of attached to each other. He did great. J marveled in the simplicity and delightfulness that is spending a day with Danyo. And that was good.

Even though I got home at 7:10 pm last night, Danyo was already asleep for the night. It was VERY hard for me to let him stay asleep. I wanted my arms around that squishy little guy. This morning he had nothing but disdain for me. It was tragically hilarious. He laid on J's shoulder like they were peas and carrots and looked at me like I was some nasty lumpy sauce that shouldn't adulterate perfectly acceptable vegetables like peas and carrots.

Then I said, "Diggy, diggy, diggy" and he laughed and called me mommy and offered up all his precious slobber to me. We're best friends again.

We stayed at an amazingly beautiful hotel. My friend who went with us actually summarized it well on her blog. You can go see what I did over there.

We saw Wicked on Saturday. I have been very excited to see it and my expectations were very high. It exceeded every last expectation I had---by a mile. I loved every single millisecond of that show. The woman next to me---not so much. I think my hearty guffaws bothered her. And a couple of times I bellowed out, "THAT WAS AWESOME!" which isn't really all that socially acceptable. But I was completely caught up in the show. I highly recommend anyone who has a chance to see it---see it. If it's in Chicago, we had great orchestra seats, so i can't be entirely sure---but it looked like pretty much any seat in the theater would be good.

I want to go 100 more times. Anyone have $2000 they want to donate to the cause?

As I mentioned, Avee went with me and she was a champion traveler. She wanted to be held a lot, but I can totally relate, so I didn't really think of that as a negative thing. We used the El and the buses for everything and everytime we went on a bus, Avee wanted to swing from the hand grip thingy-ma-bobs that they have for people who have to stand up. I finally let her on our last bus. It was pretty funny. I don't think anyone else thought it was.

We still have visitors and we're a little piled up on each other. 4 teenagers, one tween, my sister, her 18 month old, and of course, the usual clan of Nobodies that hang out here.

I feel like there's a zillion other things I'm supposed to write or that I wanted to write, but it's 11:41 pm and none of them are coming to me.

That 'l do little Nobody, that 'l do.

This picture: Fills me with happiness and makes me laugh everytime I see it. This is Avee with one of her bffs at a Pioneer Day festivity the night before we left for Chicago. They did this on their own. I was not a part of any of it.

Catch You Sometime Next Week

My three beautiful nieces from England are here.

They brought a lovely friend with them.

My Sister and her baby came.

Leaving early for Chicago tomorrow.

WICKED in 3 days.

Haven't packed yet.

It's Midnight.

G'night.

Go Nobody, It's Your Birthday

Technically, it's my birthday.

I should be in bed, but every once in a while I go on a crazy link-clicking joyride and stay up way too late. I used to do it a lot when J traveled. Now I do it like, once every 3 months.

I think my husband is planning to bring me breakfast in bed for my birthday. I'm pretty sure it's a surprise he's planned, and then for some insane reason, thought was safe to tell our 5 year old.

Bo lasted about 6 seconds and was saying things like, "You're having a surprise tomorrow. In the morning. While you are still in bed." I figured if my 5 year old knew about it, it was breakfast.

Then tonight, after he was supposed to be in bed, he came downstairs on official business, announcing long before his face appeared, "Mom, Dad, I have something I need to talk to both of you about."

He came and asked me what I wanted for breakfast. I should have just said cereal. But I said hash browns. Because that's my favorite breakfast food. Which is saying something, because really, I don't care for breakfast foods. But I'll be honest, any food in bed is going to be enjoyed, thoroughly.

Next he whispered loudly to J, "Mom likes hash browns, let's make her hash browns not Honey Bunches of Oats." At which point, Avee's ears perked up and she bellowed "I want Honey Munches of Boats! I'm soooooooooo hungry! I can pour the milk myself!!!"

J said quietly, "I can't do hash browns Bo." And Bo came two feet over to me and broke the news. "What's yo' next favorite thing fo' breakfast, mom?" I told him, Honey Munches of Boats. He was able to go back to bed with a happy heart.

Poor J. He almost genuinely surprised me.



When I was younger and people would forget how old they were, I always thought it was a joke. A dumb joke at that.

I forget how old I am all. the. time. Sometimes I have to do the math from the year I was born. Part of the reason is I have friends with so many different ages, and part of the reason is because I lie sometimes, and part of the reason is because I sadly can't be self-absorbed and only care about myself and think my birthday should be a national holiday, like I used to.

I made the mistake of telling Bo how old I was once. And J made the mistake of teaching him to count once. So now, no matter what, I have this loud little conscience reminding me and everyone within 20 feet how old I am. When he's not around, I'm 29. When he is---I'm turning 33. Sigh. I still feel 23. Until I look in a mirror...

When I turned 31 I posted 31 things I'd learned. When I turned 32 I had a newborn and couldn't form complete sentences. Now, I'm celebrating my 3rd palindromic birthday, and I feel like I should do something to commemorate it. I might have to come back and do that later. On account of being pretty tired, and pretty nonsensical right now. Even for my own low standards.

New, Improved, & With Pictures

A few things have happened since I last blogged f'real.

Shortly after the computer died, J had a birthday.

And we celebrated this day 6 years ago:

Part of that celebration involved acknowledging (and complaining, on my part) that neither of us look anything like that any more. One of our less tactful friends said when noticing a picture of us on our wedding day, "WHOA! How old were you when you got married." In that question, it was implied, "J, were you 12?" and "Nobody, did you eat the young Angela of newly wedded bliss?"

He is not allowed in our home anymore.

We celebrated the 4th of July with friends and good food.

Bo's hair grew wild and unruly and I was forced to buzz it. He was not happy about any of it, from the accidental use of the word "buzz" to the accidental knicking of his neck with the razor because he was being such a booger and I just felt like knicking him. At least that's what he thought.

I had a little fun. It was my personal paycheck for all the work of cutting his massive head of hair.

He freaked out about the short 'do and was set on spending the rest of his life in his bedroom away from everyone who would mock and scoff his ridiculously short hair that looks like every other 5 year old in the Midwest. I was okay with letting that happen. But, being the extraordinary
mother that I am, I remembered a picture I had just run across the day before whilst cleaning (more proof that I'm extraordinary, and that my computer was broken) where he had the

exact same hairdo. And he was smiling. So, I got the picture and a hand mirror and caught him mid-seizure fit, and showed him the picture and his reflection. He took one look, grabbed his pokemon cards, wiped his snot on my sleeve and tore downstairs and out the door.

Now Avee on the other hand. Her hair was perfectly fine. Only, she just looked so sweaty one day. And no matter how many times a day I comb her hair, she always looks scraggly and uncombed. Unless I took the time to put stuff in it. Which isn't very often. And often borderline ridiculous. But it's mostly because she has curly hair. Uneven hair. And two different places where she's cut her own hair.

So, I sat down to give her hair a trim. Maybe just even it out. Maybe go a little shorter for a cute little bob.

An hour later....







And little D? Well he's as cute and as attached to my kneecaps as ever. I don't get that about him, but he's persistent in showing his love and need for my calves and ankles. He also learned a new skill. I can't help feeling like I've got a prodigy on my hands. A very happy prodigy.

I've got back, er, I'm back...

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

And I've missed you so.

And I've just frittered my night away on the computer. My husband is so kind and patient to let me have this brief affair with the computer.

I've been so productive without the computer.

Omar, your blog won't let me comment.

S, I'll call you tomorrow.

Tori, thank you for your not so silent vigil.

I was just about to start taking donations for a new computer. :)

See you tomorrow!

I yain't lyin'

Hi guys.

I really am still out of a commission.

This hasn't been a test of the emergency, "Who Misses Nobody" system. Although, that would have been nice.

I'm bumming rides on the internet highway off of neighbors and friends. It's not pretty.

I'll be back soon, and probably with even less to say.

Avee's latest phrase is "Well, it's funny to me" which she says after I tell her it's not funny to pretend she's going to pee on people.

I kid you not. Oh yeah, and a tourette's-like tendency for the phrase, "kickyerbutt-meeeeee!" I don't know what it means, she says that Spiderman says it. Possibly only in her world though.
She is being well-trained in all things lady-like.

Bo's obsession with Pokemon has multiplied 46 times since I last wrote. At this point, he speaks of all things Pokemon, to the nth power. He can't help himself. I have told him that under no circumstances will I purchase Pokemon cards, I choose to use our money on things like Ben and Jerry's and yarn.

He has never been willing to spend his own money.

But today he was lifted up by the spirit of Pokemon and came flying into the house after a long and engaging discussion with the neighbor kids about their Pokemon purchases and yelled,
"MOM--get a five out of my money jar, I'm gonna go buy some Pokemon cards!"

So I got his five, handed him the keys to the car, and asked him to grab some no-more-tears shampoo for himself while he was there.

The end.
I miss you all.