Souvenirs

GH has been gone a week for training with work. He went to Buffalo, NY, and had about as good a time as you can have when you are in class from 7 AM - 7 PM in a strange town where it's twenty degrees colder than you're used to. He brought us all back souvenirs, which I figured I would list here because it might help explain what sort of person he is and why we are together:

(1) Rally Fan cap, Buffalo Bills style: this is a baseball cap that has a rubber mask attached to the back of it. You put the cap on backwards and the mask covers your face. It is a horrifying Bills fan, red and blue warrior paint. It terrified the children and none of them would touch it. Unacceptable souvenir.

(1) Buffalo Bills football for MOS. Acceptable souvenir.

(1) Buffalo Bills teddy bear for Tiny which she threw across the room and declared "No!" Unacceptable.

(1) scenic poster of a snowy street in Buffalo, captioned "Another Day in Paradise." Intended for GG1 and GG2's room. Acceptable.

(1) coffee mug with two bison and a car on it. Caption: "Morning Rush Hour." Weird but acceptable.

(1) Pair of wacky sunglasses for Tiny. 1980s style, with the horizontal lines on the lenses. She looks like Max Headroom in them. Acceptable.

(2) Lobsters. Cooked. Brought home with an ice pack in GH's luggage. Eaten for dinner. Delicious. Acceptable.

(GH also had flowers delivered to me on Wednesday. He is thoughtful like that.)

So there you have it: GH is and always will be my dream man. He is weird and has bizarre ideas and occasionally does things that I find strange and/or downright dangerous (i.e. setting off fireworks in our enclosed storage unit and catching the curtains on fire. He filmed this whole event so there is proof.) However, I gotta love a man who will bring back such souvenirs. He don't mess around with T shirts. Oh, no rally fan caps and lobsters are his ouvre.  Good job, honey. We love you and we're glad you're home.

First Day of School

I know, I know, we're home schoolers, so there is never a first day of school. But my older girls go to Enrichment School at our church on Fridays and MOS, thank the dear Lord, goes to preschool two mornings a week at our church. I have never in all my life been so happy to write a check as I was when I registered that boy for preschool. Well, paying the little guy at the furniture store $40 to deliver and assemble the bunk beds for MOS and Tiny might be first. I'll have to think about it. Anyway, the first day of school for all the kids was a great day for me. I love the Enrichment School because it's a classroom setting with none of the pressures of a classroom setting, which is perfect for GG1 since girl cannot handle academic pressure at all. GG2 could be plopped into the middle of the turbid Amazon and do just fine, so of course she loves Enrichment School. And preschool, well, it's preschool! Fun! Coloring! Play dough! Learning to clean up and share and go potty in a different potty and eat a snack with other children and all the delightful stuff that is preschool. I know some home schoolers are anti-preschool but I am not one of 'em. I love preschool. Here's my tuition check, now take my kid for six hours a week and socialize him a bit, please. And good luck to you.

Here are a few pics from the kids' first day at school. Some of us were cooperative, some of us were not. I'll let you decide who is who.

Yes, an excellent plan. Excellent. We shall begin on the morrow.

Yeah for preschool! Yeah! Yeah! Three hours away! Three! Three! 

Her favorite part of her new outfit? Her new lunchbox. Insisted on posing with it.  

But how could I say no to that face? 

And then this one came out to have her picture made. Joy. 

Literally the only smile I could get out of her. More joy. 

Ah, but when her sister squeezed her vigorously 'round her middle, then I got a grin!

And in response, she growled like a dragon at her. Pretty typical interaction between these two. GG2 is always reaching out, soothing, talking, chatting, inquiring, and GG1 growls or spits or hisses. Can't wait to pay those therapy bills.

A Southern Wedding

My cousin, Moshe, got married in Birmingham a few weeks ago and woe betide him, his mama made him invite the whole fambly. So there we were, all staying in the same hotel, and you can only imagine the shenanigans because a) my fambly does enjoy shenanigans and b) there was an open bar at every event for this wedding as well as one in the hotel lobby, which was a short elevator ride down for all of us. We were all there, us Monkeys, as well as various parents and spouses. No one else was as clever as I, for I brought a wretchedly ill preschooler and my very own mother to care for the aforementioned preschooler. As I staggered back up to the room after a little fambly time Friday evening, my mother wrenched open the hotel room, her hair on end, unknown substances coating her clothes, and a wild look in her eyes. 

"I know," she muttered through clenched teeth, "exactly how a mushroom feels!"

"Huh?" I said, owing to my Close Encounter with the Open Bar Downstairs.

"A mushroom!" she shrieked. 

"Huh?" I said again, for the same reason as above.

"A mushroom, I know how it feels. Kept in the dark and covered in poop!" Except she didn't say poop. And those of you who know my mother know that if she uses a less-than-perfect word, she is feeling the pressure. I hugged her around the shoulders in an awkward way, not wanting to get any excrement on me, and handed her a styrofoam container.

"Here," I said, trying to sound generous and accommodating, "here's my leftover steak from the rehearsal dinner."

She took it and shook her head.

"Did you bring me a plate, knife, and fork to eat it with? Because the only thing in this hotel room is diapers and dirty wipes."

"Sheesh, Mother, I can't think of everything, "I replied, sinking down on a chair and taking off my heels. Man, my feet were killing me! Partying at the rehearsal dinner was HARD. My mother has never understood my pain.

The wedding was the next night, and it pretty much went the same way as the rehearsal dinner, except I did take two kids with me. And you know what? I don't think my mother appreciated my sacrifice at all. I brought her two pieces of wedding cake back. What more did she want? At least she could have put the garbage bags full of dirty diapers more to the side of the door so I didn't have to strain my leg muscles climbing over them to get in the hotel room. So insensitive!

The end.

The following pictures are a visual chronicle of our delightful time in Birmingham. The first group of pictures was taken inside, in a ballroom in the hotel lobby, in bad lighting, and me clutching a Long Island Iced Tea in one hand, gesturing wildly with it, telling my various fambly members how to pose. The ones where I am in the picture, I have thoughtfully handed the camera off to someone else, given my drink to my grandmother to hold, and posed myownself for pictures. Needless to say, these are not good pictures. The pictures taken at the wedding reception are also not that great, but that's because it's impossible to take panoramic images of the beautiful Birmingham skyline with a portrait lens. But man oh man, that reception was beautiful! I know I missed some people and didn't take pics of everyone, and I also took more pictures than required of other people, i.e. my sister. But I love her! She's my only sibling! Plus, she leaps in front of the camera every time it goes up to my eye, so it's only natural that I took quite a few of her.

My baby sister and our father. I cannot understand why he wasn't happier. His daughters, both of legal age, had visited the open bar in the lobby vigorously before the rehearsal dinner even started. Sheesh. What a square. 

My grandmother, Miss Moo, who was beside herself with joy to have her six grandchildren in the same room again. And she should have been prouder of the fact that only four of us visited the open bar more than say, three or five times. That's called self control, friends. 

That foxy babe to the left of Miss Moo is her youngest child, my aunt. She's a peach and always looks like a million bucks. That vixen on the right is my cousin, who you might remember from another post. She and I look just alike, remember? 

My dad and his older sister, the Mother of the Groom. My father is talking on the phone to my stepmother, no doubt tattling on me and my sister. His older sister clearly has the patience of Job. Also, she is very smart because she put all of us at a table in the back, by the bar, away from easily-offended guests on the bride's side. 

My grandmother's three precious children.  

My sister photo-bombing the picture. With any luck, this will soon become the next Squirrel Picture Bomb fad. You're welcome. 

Me and my cousin, my twin. Aren't we cute?  

Sister Bomb!  

My grandmother and her girls. Not a sober one among us. Don't believe me?  Remember who I gave my drink to while I posed for pictures? That's right, Miss Moo. Girl can throw down!

Imagine Charlie Brown's teacher's voice: "Mwop mwop mwop mwop mwop." My father was not amused. 

Here is a terrible photo of my cousin's newest baby. She is a dollop of goodness, and oh my, she is a sweet baby. She is the niece of the groom, so she got special privileges, such as a pacifier dipped in champagne. Just kidding. But that would have been fun. 

Here is the mother of that sweet baby and her older boy, who is also a wonderful child and extremely well-behaved. I kept MOS and his stomach virus well clear of this child. He is reaching across his mother for her cell phone, on which he was avidly playing Angry Birds, until his stupid cousin (me) came over and wanted a picture. I apologized for ruining his high score.

Here we are at the wedding reception. You'll notice I'm wearing a different dress. I am proud of myself because I have not purchased a dress in over four years. My mother forced me to. I also had on these really great high heels, but I forgot to take a picture of them. Trust me, they were really cool. They looked like Star Trek shoes. 

My girls love their aunt! 

My cousins from Alabama. I tell you what, that one in the middle there can cut up something fierce! My dad isn't the only one in the fambly who can get a whole crowd going. 

(l to r) Delta cousin, Delta cousin, father of my sweet baby cousin whom I adore more than is reasonable. 

And look! There he is! Cutest baby EVER! I wanted to take a picture of just him, but all these other people kept getting in the way. Move! I only want the baby!

That's all I'll post for now. It's a lot to take in, my fambly. Needless to say, we all had a large time and I am hoping that someone else gets married again real soon. But I'd like for it to be in Birmingham again, and at the same hotel, because the bartender and I developed quite a rapport. But I don't think I can convince my mother to go with me again. She's not falling for that one again.