John loves Chris; Jack loves banana bread

There are way too many children in my house for me to post anything substantive. Just click HERE for pictures and wait patiently until they leave and I become normal again.

Oh, and pray.

Puppets & Other Normal Everyday Things

Nanny made this puppet!
Originally uploaded by Kimmy Crack Corn

Well. Let's see. Nanny and Grampy are visiting. Chris is here too. I accepted a job at NSCC and we're not going to Turkey. Amy's coming next week. We had Ginger Soy Chicken for dinner (on a bed of lettuce with a side of sticky rice).

Nothing much else to say. Everything is normal Normal NORMAL! Just the way we like it.

More to come after I finish this online teaching mess ...

The End

by Kimmy

A Much Less Exciting Week (in a good way)

Oh yes. I'll take stomach bugs and post-shampoo fun with a fine-tooth comb anyday over broken windows and police/librarian reports. This week has brought puking (his word) and the incessant repetition of the word (phrase?) "poo-poo." And that is just fine.

On the Language Acquisition Front there has been a new development. Are you ready for this?

Drumroll ...

PRESENT PERFECT PROGRESSIVE!!!!!!!!!!!

For example:

• "I've been mowing the grass."

• "That deer's been standing in the front yard without a mama."

• "I've been hanging upside down."

• Dad's been jackhammering in the garage."

• I've been puking over the side [of the recliner]."

(Note: This is after he had already puked (past perfect with medial adverb) several times.

He hasn't quite learned yet about the differences between "since" and "for" (usually those are used with the tense described above), but hey! just the triple-word verb phrase is advanced enough for me. He's progressing nicely with his presently perfect linguistic developments.

Tell me that you picked up on that pun. Can you call that a pun? You can probably call it a lot of other things too ... particularly things related to the author.

NOTE: If you are only interested in my child, then you can stop reading now.

So, mostly I've been teaching grammar to kids who are headed for nervous breakdowns before their freshman year of college. There are days when I think about sending them emails that say something nasty like, "Why don't you diagram this command-form sentence: Go outside and play." But I don't. Because Lord knows that their parents would probably fly down here and take me to court. Poor little Troy from Connecticut (ahem) called and left a message the other night saying that I had posted his essay in the workshop (for peer editing) with all the wrong paragraph breaks and that he thought this may have affected the questions I posed for the class to answer ... particularly the one about the placement of his thesis statement ... and could I please "remedy the problem at my earliest convenience?" So I tried to remedy it as best I could, but I couldn't delete the posting ... I could only re-post another copy of his essay with the CORRECT paragraph breaks (and the same question about the thesis, because that question had absolutely nothing to do with HIM but rather with the curriculum requirements). So I emailed him to explain that I had remedied my little heart out despite my inability to delete the original. And he replied with the very helpful information that I should write to the JHU/CTY customer service desk and that they could help me with that technical problem right away. There is a two-word adjective for children like this, but my mama brought me up better than to post it out loud on the World Wide Web. If you can guess, I'll volunteer to help you with all the verb conjugations and sentence diagramming dilemmas in your life.

And speaking of my skills ...

I just discovered that you can post "Will trade X for Y" ads on Craigslist. I'm thinking of posting something like "Will trade English grammar lessons for any of the following: pedicures, childcare, kitchen mopping, spider-web removal, dishwasher fixing, or information regarding acquiring a work visa in Turkey."

And on that note ... as some of you already know ... we are planning a major adventure for the fall which involves selling our car, storing our furniture, and temporarily moving to Istanbul where I have acquired a job at Bilgi University. There. The announcement.

But the progress is slow as it involves two countries' governments and this is doing a number on my fragile mental health. Luckily, I am medicated.

So, that's all. Tah-tah.

Happy 5th

I'm a day late. Oh well, at least my child is no longer locked in the windows-rolled-up car while all the patrons at our local branch library gawk as the policeman arrives -- sirens blaring -- to break the window and retrieve him.

Oh yes, I did that. It took three calls to 911, four different borrowed cell phones, 25 awful minutes, and a pipe wrench to get him out. And boy did he come out swinging. Yelled at the officer for "hurting my ears and making that big mess." Yelled! I just let him yell.

Clencher #1: There was an extra key in a magnetized box under the car which I knew about. Panic invokes forgetfullness, apparently.

Clencher #2: Before our tofu stir fry tonight (which was flavored with mamatears), he said thank you for "that policeman who hadda break the glass." Then he said, "I'm sorry I cried, Mama. It was my fault."

Now there is a broken window and a broken heart and only one of those is covered by insurance. Send cucumbers and tea bags, because my poor eyelids may never be the same.

But all is well and he got two Capri Suns, some new crayons, and a horse picture out of the deal. I got twenty-six gray hairs, some wrinkles, and the scare of a lifetime. Not to diminish The Goose's experience, but mostly he was concerned about our inability to clean it up in a timely manner ("Where's the shop vac? Let's call Dadda.") and the loud noise of glass breaking. The librarians lauded him as "brave" and "heroic" as they were writing up their report alongside the policeman. And him sitting there sucking down that high fructose corn syrup, wearing the muddiest rain boots you have ever seen in the middle of a drought.

In other news ... we had a nice visit with Macy & Grandaddy last weekend:

We went to the aquarium and had lots of puppet shows.

The puppet shows were encouraged by Macy, who, as a young mother of a Me, was constantly begged to make various animals "talk." This is how a puppet show goes in our house:

Goose: "Let's have a puppet show. I'm the Puppet Ear."

Adult: "OK, what are the rules?"

Goose: "No crying. No walking around. No escalators. No phones."

He then proceeds to take the one and only puppet (a pink bunny rabbit from Steinmart) and dances it around for approximately 7.6 seconds while going "da da da da da dah." Then you're supposed to clap. And it starts all over. Fun! I've got to remember to videotape it. But since I cannot even remember how to find VERY IMPORTANT KEYS HIDDEN FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF UNLOCKING THE CAR, I can't advise any breath holding.

I need sleep. And a new brain and some eyelids while you're at it.

Happy Independence.

Just go ahead ...

and give me the Mother of the Year award: His mouth is full of broccoli.

Thank you, thank you.

Short post tonight on account of the visit of the Maternal Grandparents and the incessant needs of the pre-teen grammar tyrants. This past week, one of them sent me an email with the word "variegated" in it. I only thought that word could be applied to Lantana, a native Hawaiian plant that landscapers in the southeast love because you can't kill it and it doubles in size every day. It's like a combo ground cover and showcase flowerbed perennial (you know, like those kind they put in front of large apartment complexes or business entrances). Mostly yellow, the buds are made up of conglomerations of miniature sunbursts. Sometimes, however, they can be orange AND yellow (i.e., variegated). Apparently, so can subordinate clauses.

Anywho.

Other reasons I should be MotY:

Here he is learning to use a knife and fork to cut his chicken and bok choy burritio [sic]. Somehow I got the Mexican Dinner Night ingredients confused with those flagged for Asian Night and we ended up with tortillas filled with chicken and chopped bok choy. And it was good, y'all. Add to the list of retirement options: Culinary School.

And now, the third and final reason that I should at least be nominated for MotY ...

Forget about the Muscle Man, and please look down at his food ... the bowl is full of Black Bean & Tomato Spaghetti with a side of steamed broccoli (see first photo on this page) and grilled catfish. WHOLE. WHEAT. SPAGHETTI. I made it with leftover black beans from the aforementioned burritio night.

Sometimes you have good ideas about food combinations. Sometimes you don't. But dadgummit I know how to use a pot of leftover slow-cooked, cumin-infused black beans.

Thank you again.

Iyi geceler.

(That's Turkish for "good night.")

All Hail to Parma-John!

For more, click here: Flickr!

I update Flickr weekly with pictures, in case you've forgotten.

When the Paternals "dropped by" (from Milwaukee) and Other Tales

I love Nanny's twisted-up kiss and the Goose's expression. This one's a keeper.

Another cute one:

(Notice, dear reader, the lovely black dishwasher in the background, which hasn't worked in two years but has lately decided to engage in a charming little ritual wherein a terrific sulfurous odor wafts from the area just before your feet get soaked from the flooding. Not that I would ever complain about a free house!)

And of course there's Grampy:

And one thing the Paternal Grandfather learned on this visit was all about chigger season. Today I went to Target with the express purpose of purchasing the strongest chemical on the market in order to protect my family. Some people keep guns. We keep deet (and guns). It’s really too bad that you can’t just shoot a chigger (or a chigger colony). I definitely believe that the founding fathers would’ve considered that to be part of my 2nd amendment rights. The horrendous beasts have caused John to look like he has the chicken pox and sometimes I have to excuse myself from class to go to the restroom and scratch. Because you know where chiggers get.

Somebody just called Delilah to report that she has seven teenagers living in the same house with her and her 3rd husband. Y’all pray for them.

I am teaching again (online) for the Center for Talented Youth at the Johns Hopkins University ... an enrichment program for ubersmarty middle schoolers from the Northeast (e.g., Connecticut, Home of Frenchy aka Wannabedean – so typical). There are also some Californians and – this semester – someone in Taiwan. It’s not clear that he’s Taiwanese though … his mom emailed me to say that although they're currently in Taipei, they will be in India next week, so please note the time difference (presumably, in case I need to call her about any pressing issues with her son’s analysis of prepositions functioning as adverbials of time/place/reason, and why they are so common). I always get such a kick out of this job. My primary place of employment cuts back our contact hours in the summer, so I’m doing this to keep my income relatively stable so that John can attend preschool and I can still buy ridiculous amounts of eye make-up and Burt’s Bees colored lip gloss. Don’t tell Dave.

What's that? You want to know about the other members of the family … well, besides the chorus of scratching, The Husband has become increasingly allergic to something in the air here and is on steroids, and The Goose has become obsessed with Hansel & Gretel. Try explaining the concept of oral tradition (folk tales) to an authorial-obsessed 2.75 year old ... "Who is wrote this book, Mama?" I have created a monster. And nevermind the part of the story where, as The Goose says, “the little girl push the big girl in a oven and the big girl put out smoke.” What do we make of that? What does HE make of that? I don’t know, but we saw it live (with puppets) at our supercool downtown library where there is a PUPPET THEATER (complete with fancy lights and curtains and real smoke and marionettes and hand puppets and bunraku experts and everything). We are also interested in The Stonecutter, which is currently playing in said theater. Here we are in all of our authorless glory:

And one other tidbit about the Hansel and Gretel phase. When I was first considering taking him to the puppet show several weeks ago, I called the library to inquire about why it was listed as "School Age Event" on their website. The librarian who answered said this: "Well, it's Hansel and Gretel, so there are children in peril. I think you can judge for yourself about the extent to which this sort of scenario might affect your own child." Touché! And considering that he overlooked the horrific mother, the theme of child abandonment, and the issue of "the big girl" (aka The Witch) wanting to eat Hansel, I'd say he's not an overly sensitive child. But all words spoken or written shall, at some future time, be eaten, so let's leave it at that.

In other news ...

Things are GROWING!

Zinnias and basil:

Sunflowers:

And coneflowers (echinacea):

I'm not sure why fertilizer is ever needed since composting is SO easy and effective, but don't even get me started on agriculture. I'm reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by, my favorite, Barbara Kingsolver. 'Bout time she got back to work.

And now I must go and do some more analysis of grammar exercises too difficult for the average college freshman, but clearly cake for a certain set of 13 year olds.

As The Goose says (ship or no ship) ...

BON VOYAGE!